Spoiled By My Nine Beast Husbands (Emma Tibarn) novel Chapter 411

r 411 Breaking Point

Chapter 411 Breaking Point

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He pushed Calum hard because he wanted to see just how far Calum would bend for his huntress.

Marcus brought Calum over to the grill Kieran was running.

“Kieran,” he said, “go help Ms. Tibarn. Calum and I can handle this.”

Kieran gave Calum one quick look, nodded to Marcus, and headed toward Emma.

Getting to stand beside his lady–Kieran would never pass that up.

Emma was in the middle of directing Silas to flip the steaks.

Kieran approached, picked up a slab of sea beast meat, and set it onto the grill.

“Ms. Tibarn, let me take over. No one grills sea beast meat better than I do.”

“Kieran? What are you doing here?” Emma flipped the meat with a smile, puzzled.

Wasn’t he grilling with Drake a moment ago?

Kieran sat beside her, lowering his voice. “Marcus and Marshal Calum went up front. Marcus told me to assist you.”

“What?”

The second she heard Marcus had dragged Calum to the front grills, Emma nearly dropped the meat from her hands.

She snapped her gaze forward.

There stood Marcus, face carved from thunder, glowering at the beast meat Calum had just sliced, jaws clenched, ready to explode.

“Marshal, your knife skills are… truly enlightening.”

Marcus lifted a piece of meat with the tongs, and his tone turned poisonous.

“I said palm–thick steaks. That does not mean you should put on a paper–cutting demonstration. Why is this slice so thin? Are you getting old? Your teeth giving out? Afraid a real steak might be too tough for you?”

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He slapped the meat back onto the tray, contempt flickering openly in his eyes.

“Eyes closed, knife between my toes, I’d still cut better than this. A newborn cub who just learned to hold a knife would do cleaner work.”

Calum’s expression darkened to pitch black. His fingers whitened on the knife handle from how tightly he was gripping it.

Marcus pretended not to see the storm about to break. Instead, he doubled down, raking the tongs through the tray with sharp, grating clanks.

“And these shapes–some square, some long, all crooked. What is this? A geometry exhibition? How do you even manage to slice every piece so… uniquely terrible, yet consistently ugly? With skills like this, even stray therians would wrinkle their noses and kick the bowl back at you.”

He paused, raised his gaze, and the silver–gray in his eyes gleamed cold and taunting, cutting straight into Calum.

“Be honest, Marshal. Other than holding a weapon and killing, what else can those hands do? Take away nutrient packs, drop you on a barren planet. You wouldn’t even know how to start a fire. You’d end up clutching your medals and starving to death. Pathetic.”

At the back grill, Emma heard every word Marcus hurled at Calum. Her heart practically launched into her throat.

What the hell? Did Marcus swallow a live grenade? Or did he stop valuing his life?

He actually dared to provoke Calum like this.

That wasn’t a simple argument.

That was grinding the dignity of the Empire’s Marshal under his heel and twisting for emphasis.

With Calum’s temper, how could he possibly endure that?

Forget Calum. Any therian with a pulse would’ve started throwing punches already.

Emma Tibarn shot to her feet, instinct driving her forward. But her wrist was caught by a warm, steady hand.

She turned. Silas shook his head gently.

“Emy. Don’t go. Relax. They won’t fight.”

9/3

“You’re kidding, right?” Emma stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Marcus went way too far. You think Calum won’t fight back?”

Even I want to slap Marcus.

And Calum is just supposed to take it?

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