Brute 106_Married to the Devil

Chapter 106 

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 ATASHA’S POV

 Just as I expected, the infirmary was in chaos. Soldiers were dragging in the wounded, some screaming, others limp and pale, their armor slick with blood. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, iron, and damp bandages. Mendez barked orders from one side, his sleeves rolled up, while Katya and Ramona rushed between beds, hands stained red as they tried to keep up.

 Grace pushed through the noise and came to my side, her face tense. “My Lady, you’re burning up,” she said, pressing a hand lightly to my forehead. “Are you certain you needed toe here? A rest would do you more good than this.”

 I didn’t answer. Instead, I closed my eyes, leaning against her arm for support. That feeling again, pressing down on me. It felt suffocating, clinging to me like a shadow. At first nce, it could be exined away as the misery of the infirmary, but I knew better. It was stronger here.

 “Take me to the back tent,” I whispered. “Where the infected were kept.”

 Grace looked at me in rm. “But… My Lady, Katya’s husband and the others recovered. They’ve already returned to fight. There shouldn’t be anyone in there.”

 “Then it’s empty. Good,” I tried to keep my voice as firm as possible. I failed. “Take me.”

 She hesitated, but finally nodded, slipping her arm around me to steady my steps. Together we crossed the chaotic infirmary, slipping past the noise and the rush, until the sounds of shouting and ttering armor faded behind us. 

 The back tent loomed ahead, its canvas edges stiff with dried blood. Grace held the p aside, her voice low. “Are you certain you want to go in?”

 “Yes,” I said, without hesitation.

 She guided me inside.

 The air hit me first. It was stale, thick with the lingering stench of rot. Even with the beds stripped bare, the smell of decay clung to the fabric and the ground beneath. The metallic tang of blood was still heavy in the air, mixing with the damp, sour stench of infection.

 I could barely keep my footing. The moment I stepped deeper into the tent, that heaviness pressed harder against my chest. Each step felt like dragging myself through mud. My knees buckled slightly, and I had to clutch the edge of one of the empty cots to stay upright.

 Grace looked at me with wide eyes, but I ignored her.

 I lowered myself onto one of the beds and shut my eyes. The pressure was strongest here. It felt like there was an invisible weight that squeezed the air from my lungs until breathing itself was a struggle. My body wanted to copse under it, but I forced myself to stay still, to focus.

 I reached outward with what strength I had left. The heaviness seeped through me, surrounding me, wrapping the tent in a suffocating presence. Every breath felt like pulling in smoke.

 Whatever was luring the beasts… it was close. Too close.

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 The thought wed at me, was it buried here? The pull was too strong, too focused. I forced my voice steady. “Grace… dig here.”

 She didn’t question me. With a curt nod, she grabbed what looked like a long spear left against the cot and drove the point into the packed earth. Each strike cut through the stale silence, breaking clumps of dirt loose.

 I stood off to the side, eyes closed, bracing against the cot for bnce. The heaviness pressed harder the deeper she dug. But there was more to it now.

 This wasn’t just suffocation, it was grief. It washed over me in waves, so raw it made my chest ache. It felt like something inside me had been torn apart, leaving only emptiness. I blinked hard as the sting of tears returned. Why sadness? Why loneliness? I expected rage, something that would rile me up the same way it lured the beasts. But instead, it hollowed me.

 “My Lady!” Grace’s sharp whisper jolted me. “I found something!”

 The spear struck with a sharp click against metal. Dropping it, Grace crouched and wed at the dirt with her hands until she pulled out a box. Caked in mud, the edges still glinted faintly beneath the grime.

 The moment my eyesnded on it, my knees buckled. The weight in the air doubled, crashing over me. I staggered back, barely catching myself on the cot frame. My pulse raced, my chest heaving as if the box itself was bleeding sorrow into me.

 Grace straightened, cradling it in both hands. She turned toward me. “My Lady, be careful-”

 “I knew you were up to something,” a voice cut through the air.

 Both of us spun toward the p. Reina stood in the entrance, arms folded, her eyes fixed on us. Two soldiers nked her, blocking the exit.

 Grace immediately snapped. “What do you think you’re doing, barging in here and not greeting the Consort properly?”

 Reina let out a short, scornfulugh. “Consort?” Her gaze slid over me like a de. “Don’t make meugh. I’ve known from the start–you’ve bewitched them all. Lord Cassian. His lieutenants. Even the healers in this ce. And now…” Her eyes dropped to the mud–stained box in Grace’s hands, narrowing with greedy suspicion. “Now I know why.”

 Grace’s face went white, then hard. “How dare you use the Consort of witchcraft?” she snapped, stepping in front of me so fast the box shifted in her arms.

 But Reina was the least of my concern as heat red behind my eyes. The headache spiked so sharp I started to shake. My could feel my skin losing its color, my knees threatened to fold. I gripped the cot edge to keep from falling.

 Reina only snorted. “Lieutenant Grace,” she said. “This woman is a witch. I recognize witchcraft when I see it. Hand it… hand her over, or you will regret it.” Her soldiers shifted their weight forward, metal whispering as their hands moved closer to spears.

 Grace’s jaw clenched. For a moment everything hung on the edge of her next breath. Then she straightened,

 8:18 Fri, Sep 19

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 pressing the mud–smeared box toward me with both hands. “How dare you,” she whispered. Her eyes shed to the soldiers as she grabbed her sword and pointed it towards Reina. “Tell your men to stand down. Back away from her now, or I will show no mercy.”

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Brute 106