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Home / MM Romance / To Marry a Monster / Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

All Chapters of To Marry a Monster: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

100 Chapters

41

"The tactical evaluation at the Blood Moon Reunion Gala is tomorrow, Chika, and skipping combat drill to loiter outside the perimeter gates is how executioners get marked for a purge," I told myself, checking my wrist-comm as the midnight chimes rang across the neutral district.I hauled my weapon crate out of the secondary armory, lingering an hour past the usual shift change just to ensure my blade calibration was flawless. My tactical transport was late. I stood under the flickering neon sign of a syndicate safehouse, scanning the shadows, when a heavily armored, matte-black cruiser screeched to a halt right in front of my boots.The reinforced glass slithered down, revealing Ronan Blackwell’s scarred, freezing profile. "Get inside the cabin, Whitmore.""The Blackwell Pack doesn't dictate my operational routes, Ronan," I spat, gripping the hilt of my trench knife as the cold air rolled off his frame. "State your business or clear the lane.""I told you to get in," Ronan growled, hi

42

"If you think another round of this bootleg silver-whiskey is going to purge the image of Chika’s cold face from your brain, you’re losing your instincts, Ronan," I snarled at my own reflection, sweeping an arm across the table to shatter three more glass bottles against the stone floor of the Blackwell Pack's high-tier armory lounge.The burning liquor was supposedly a stimulant, but it only made my thoughts obsessively loop back to how completely dead Chika Whitmore’s eyes had looked during our crossroads standoff earlier today. A single rotation of the planet ago, his loyalty to our operational cell was absolute. Now? The ink on his treaty marriage to the Afolayan Dominion wasn't even dry, and he was treating me like a low-tier border intruder. Had the past three seasons of running joint enforcement operations across the neutral zone been nothing but a calculated lie from the Whitmore Bloodline? Or had he never possessed a shred of pack loyalty to begin with?The questions tore thr

43

"The tactical fallout between you and Ronan Blackwell is going to get this entire sector flagged by the syndicate council, Chika," my vanguard lieutenant muttered, her pulse erratic as she slammed a fresh magazine into her sidearm. "I shouldn't have been talking up the Blackwell Pack's enforcement record right before you initiated the blade drill."I finished locking the stabilizer pins on my tactical gauntlet, letting out a dry, humorless laugh. "Drop it, Lieutenant. The alliance fractured before the winter solstice. I'm not wasting ammunition worrying about a rogue border scout."My officer clearly assumed I was masking my internal stress with battlefield bravado. She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a harsh whisper. "The rumors from the neutral zone say Ronan is nothing but a reckless butcher anyway. Breaking the blood truce at Moonveil Grand Hall was the loudest warning we could have received. You're better off running frontline operations under the Afolayan banner. Just look

44

Take these hydration canisters and tactical fuel packs, team, and clear out to the perimeter staging bays immediately," Lucien announced, his dominant Alpha baritone echoing smoothly across the concrete arena floor as he gestured toward the newly arrived black-market supply crates.Our unit commander looked completely ecstatic, instantly recognizing the immense leverage these premium military supplies gave us with the television syndicate's media controllers. He quickly barked orders to the remaining personnel, herding them down the iron ramps toward the loading docks to secure the haul before anyone could register our true border defensive numbers. Within two minutes, the entire tactical crew had dispersed into the lower corridors, leaving absolutely no one behind on the high platform except for Sienna Okafor and Ronan Blackwell, who remained anchored like statues against the reinforced railing.Lucien completely ignored their glares, his powerful hand clamping firmly around my forea

45

"I’ve lost track of how many hourly guard rotations have passed since the wolfsbane taser knocked my system offline," I rasped into the absolute blackness of the bunker, forcing my stiffening fingers to clench and release against the cold concrete floor.My inner wolf was clawing at my ribs, frantic and blind from the lack of light, but as I dragged my boots across the perimeter of my confinement, I confirmed the bastards hadn't shackled my ankles yet. I slammed a heavy kick into the dark space, hoping to snap a copper line or locate an iron grate, but my boot only struck reinforced steel and hollow air.My mind was operating at maximum capacity, mapping out why Joanna Foster would initiate a full syndicate kidnapping against the Whitmore Bloodline just to freeze our territory deployment. The dry heat in the cellar was burning through my throat like a desert wind, stripping the moisture from my tongue until the rhythmic echo of heavy combat boots scraping down the corridor shattered t

46

"You think this piece of metal makes you an Alpha, Lucien?" Joanna snarled, her submissive facade completely evaporating as she realized we were entirely isolated in the high-security suite. Her scent spiked with a desperate, toxic arrogance, her features twisting into an ugly mask of pure contempt. "Chika! Chika! Your entire network is bleeding, and you can only see that worthless Whitmore soldier. You practically worship his boots! I am going to tear his sector apart and erase him from the syndicate mapping!"I watched her from the shadows of the corridor, my fingers brushing against the grip of my tactical blade as Lucien fixed his golden eyes on her, his posture radiating a frozen, dead calm. "So it was your extraction unit that executed the ambush at the border checkpoints, wasn't it?"Joanna threw her head back, a sharp, unhinged laugh echoing off the concrete walls. "What if my mercenaries pulled the trigger, Lucien? Look at yourself. Do you honestly believe you're still the ap

47

"Secure the airlock and prepare the trauma bay for immediate containment," Lucien roared, his dominant Alpha frequencies vibrating through the interior of the transport helicopter as the blacked-out aircraft pushed its rotors to maximum velocity, tearing through the storm clouds toward the Afolayan Dominion’s private tactical medical facility.Peyton had already intercepted the regional transmission networks, scrubbed the digital footprint of our emergency inbound trajectory, and neutralized the local law enforcement boards before our skids even touched the rooftop landing pad. The moment the pressurized bay doors slid open, a specialized combat-surgical team wheeled my transport gurney straight into the high-security operating sector. Peyton executed a rapid biochemical scan at the threshold, confirming that the neurotoxins in my bloodstream were dropping below critical combat-lethal levels, which allowed Lucien to pivot his mechanized unit back toward the loading elevator."Where ar

48

You remain as unyielding as an old alpha wolf carcass, Lucien," Brook sneered, leaning his massive frame against the doorframe of the safe house, his predatory scent spiking with absolute mockery. "I never pegged the supreme commander of the Afolayan Dominion to possess a single ounce of sentimentality, let alone develop such a pathetic, deep-seated attachment to an enforcer like Chika Whitmore."I kept my eyes fixed on the tactical map resting against my knees, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of a direct glance. "Instead of wasting your operational hours speculating on my private contract and sector relationships, Brook, you should hurry into the neutral zone and secure yourself a bloodline mate before the high council strips your rank entirely."Brook shifted his gaze toward my position on the medical cot, letting out a sharp, guttural snort through his teeth. "Well, my vanguard units are waiting at the primary sector headquarters for a tactical brief. I must vacate this grid

49

"Didn't your communication network explicitly threaten to launch a total lineage sever from the central estate just to force my armor container back across these borders?" I demanded, my golden eyes locked onto my birth matriarch with an absolute, unyielding calm.Helena Whitmore swallowed hard, her pupils contracting as her eyes dropped instantly down toward her polished leather combat boots. Her tactical threat had been a calculated bluff to haul my deployment team back into her personal sector, assuming her maternal rank granted her an absolute priority override on my network. Yet the freezing weight of my aura made it brutally clear that she no longer possessed the sovereign authority to dictate my parameters.Failing to breach my defenses, Helena shifted her entire payload of toxic rage directly onto Chika, pointing a manicured claw toward his chest uniform. "This systemic insubordination is entirely a product of your infiltration! You are a low-tier street soldier deployed by th

50

"Did your underlying crime syndicate grant absolute clearance for this bizarre stunt, Foster? Or must my office patch through a line to your cartel boss to verify exactly whose tactical directive commanded your insertion into my stronghold?" I demanded, my hands resting on the arms of my mechanized unit as I tracked Chika's fluctuating vitals.Judy shook her head with a flawless show of submissive discipline, her scent locked down tight. "My unit executed this navigation entirely on its own parameter, Enforcer Whitmore."I maintained an absolute, frozen silence, refusing to drop a single hint of my tactical calculations. Lifting an eyebrow, I directed my golden eyes up to Chika's face, deliberately signaling that his office held the ultimate authority to dictate the resolution of this operational breach. Recognizing the power dynamic, Judy executed a rapid, theatrical maneuver, dropping her knees hard onto the polished tile directly before Chika's boots. "My sole mission is to balance

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