To Marry A Monster (by Brey Mitchell) novel Chapter 221

Chapter 221

William’s POV

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“Lady Celeste.” William offered a shallow bow the moment her carriage rolled into view, though his eyes didn’t stay on her for long. They shifted, immediately, to the second carriage behind her. The one with heavier guards, tighter spacing, and a northern formation that didn’t look like a welcome party at all.

So it was true.

Even here, at Nightfall’s border, the consort rode separately from her own sister.

William kept his face smooth, but something sharp curled inside him. Celeste had always been loud when she wanted something, but this time she had brought an entire blade line with her, and those blades belonged to the North.

Celeste inclined her head, then lifted her voice, so the people gathered behind William could hear it clearly. “Everyone,” she announced, spreading her arms as if she were presenting a prize. “Let us welcome the consort of the North.”

The murmurs swelled at once. Nightfall guards straightened, and the representatives from neighboring packs leaned forward, eager and hungry, pretending their interest was polite. Even the wounded pride of the pack seemed to rise with the sound of that title.

Then the carriage door opened.

A woman in black and red stepped down first, and William recognized her at once even before she fully turned her face toward the crowd. Lieutenant Grace. She moved like someone who didn’t care who was watching, because she had already decided what she would do if anyone tried anything foolish.

William’s jaw tightened.

Grace reached up, hand braced on the carriage frame, and spoke into the darkness inside as if issuing a report rather than announcing an arrival.

William felt the irritation spike again when the figure inside shifted.

Atasha was there. He could tell by the small movement of pale fabric, by the way the crowd seemed to hold its breath without meaning to. The moment she appeared, people leaned in as if they could smell her value through wood.

William thought, for a bitter second, that she truly meant to step out before Celeste, before her own blood, as if she had forgotten who “treated her best” when she was still Nightfall’s burden.

Then, an arrow screamed through the air.

It cut past Celeste so close it stirred her cloak, then slammed into the ground directly in front of William’s boots with enough force to kick up dirt and splinters.

William jerked back on instinct, his heart punching hard against his ribs.

For a heartbeat, the world froze in disbelief.

Then a howl ripped through the treeline, and the border erupted into panic.

“Protect the lady!” William roared, voice snapping the moment apart.

Men immediately surged forward with their blades out. Shields raised in a tight circle, instinctively turning toward the carriage where Atasha still hadn’t stepped down.

Another arrow followed, then another, and this time they came in a pattern, not random shots but a spread meant to herd.

18:17 Tue, Dec 16 GDD

Chapter 921

nap, and split attention.

William’s eyes narrowed as shadows moved between the trunks head. Figures ran low and fast, too coordinated to be desperate bandits, and too eager to be ordinary pack enemies. They hit the open ground in a wave, weapons flashing, mouths already stretched into snarls.

Demon Fangs!

Perfect timing. William thought grimly, even as the first attacker Junged at a Nightfall guard and ripped his throat open with claws half–formed.

But suddenly, the first arrow, the one stuck in the ground, began to hiss.

William’s eyes widened as black smoke started leaking from the shaft, curling upward like something alive, thickening fast and spreading low across the earth. It rolled over boots and crawled toward ankles, climbing, swallowing the space between fighters.

Poison.

Demon Fangs loved poison almost as much as they loved chaos.

William’s teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. He had expected an attack, yes, but not this kind of commitment. Not this many. Not poison released openly in front of witnesses from other packs, as if the Demon Fangs were willing to burn every bridge just to get their hands on the consort.

It seemed he had underestimated their persistence.

Or their desperation.

“Hold the line!” William shouted, drawing his sword as he moved into the smoke.

The air scratched his throat immediately. His eyes watered. It stung, not like ordinary smoke, but like something that wanted inside his lungs. He pulled his collar up over his mouth as he pushed forward, forcing his boots through the rolling black cloud.

Shapes crashed into each other around him as a Demon Fang burst out of the haze to William’s right, and for a moment, it was hard to tell if it was more wolf than man. Its shoulders were too broad, its arms wrong, fingers clawed, mouth pulled into a grin that showed teeth sharpened beyond nature. Its eyes were wild, pupils blown, and black veins crawled along its neck like rot.

It lunged for William.

William met it head–on.

He pivoted, drove his blade across its torso, and felt the sword bite through flesh that didn’t heal right, flesh that fought the cut as if it hated the idea of dying. The Demon Fang recoiled, then surged again with a snarl, swinging a jagged weapon that would have split William’s skull if he had hesitated.

William didn’t hesitate.

He stepped in close, jammed the hilt into the attacker’s throat to disrupt the lunge, then shoved hard and sliced upward. The blade caught under the rib, tore through, and the Demon Fang stumbled back, choking on something wet and dark.

It tried to shift more fully, like the wolf inside was panicking, trying to save itself by turning into strength.

William didn’t let it.

He drove the sword in again and twisted, then yanked it free as the Demon Fang collapsed into the mud, twitching, mouth opening and closing like it couldn’t decide whether to howl or beg.

18:17 Tue, Dec 16 G D D

Chapter 221

Around him, the border turned into a storm of bodies.

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Nightfall guards fought with trained coordination, but the smoke broke their formations. Demon Fangs darted in and out, striking where visibility was worst, dragging victims into the haze where screams cut off too quickly.

Representatives from other packs shouted orders of their own, some joining the fight, others retreating, but all of them watching with the same thought in their eyes.

So this is what happens when Atasha returns.

William coughed hard, eyes burning, and tried to pierce the smoke with his gaze.

Where were the northern lieutenants?

He had expected them to reveal themselves the moment blood ouched the ground. He had expected a brutal northern counterattack, loud enough to terrify the witnesses and thin both sides in one sweep. Instead, the smoke swallowed everything, turning the battlefield into fragments.

He caught glimpses only.

A flash of black and red near the carriage, a blade moving too fast to track, a body hitting the ground and not getting back up. A soldier’s shout in a northern accent. Then nothing but shadows again.

William’s grip tightened on his sword.

He couldn’t see Grace. He couldn’t see Atasha.

But he could hear the shift in the chaos.

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