Marrying a Warhound (Cassian) novel Chapter 158

ATASHA’S POV

“Dead,” a heard someone said near me. I ignored it and continued watching.

They worked in silence at first, or maybe it only seemed that way. The world felt muffled, yet I could still hear everything, the scrape of boots on gravel, the drag of bodies through dirt, the hollow thud as steel met wood when weapons were gathered.

Then I heard another soldier muttered. “This one’s gone,too,” and another answered, “Stack him with the rest.” The cart from the outpost creaked closer, wheels grinding over stone, followed by the sharp rip of canvas being unrolled and the dull clink of chains.

I stood there, watching it all like I was behind glass. Every sound reached me, but none of it felt real. The edges of the scene blurred together, and all I could hear was that noise in my head again, drowning out everything else.

Cassian stood a few paces off, speaking to Lucas. His tone was even, the way it always was when he handed out orders. Lucas listened with his jaw set, nodding once before turning to send men into the trees to sweep for stragglers. I tracked their mouths without catching the words. The rush under my skin hadn’t faded. It sat there like a second heartbeat, steady…. and wrong.

I lifted my face. The sun was up, bright through a thin white sky. Light hit the blood on the road and turned it brown. I searched myself for something, shame, fear, anything to push against the pulse in my veins, but nothing rose.

The more I tried to force it, the hollower it felt. Something had shifted during the fight, and I couldn’t reach around it, couldn’t fix it, couldn’t heal it away. My ability didn’t touch this. That thought landed hard and stayed.

If I hadn’t fought, I would be on one of those canvas sheets right now. Grace was strong, but numbers eat skill when you give them time. I had given them none. That was the truth. I didn’t know what to do with the truth sitting next to what I had enjoyed.

His presence reached mefore his shadow did. When I opened my eyes, Cassian was there at my side, close enough that the smell o ron on me brushed the leather at his collar. He held out a folded handkerchief. The fabric was clean, white, too neat for this road.

I stared at it, then took it. Agape’s warning stepped through my head again, about Cassian, about pain, about the way his beast bled into the bond and into me. I met Cassian’s eyes and found the red leached out, leaving the old gold.

No words came. I didn’t know which ones would matter.

He waited a beat, then reached, plucked the handkerchief back from my fingers, and caught my right hand in his. Then he just held it and started wiping the blood from my palm, slow passes that pushed the tacky film into the cloth.

He turned my wrist, cleaned the smear that ran to my thumb, then traced the line of my lifeline where the blade had glanced me and already healed. His hands were warm. The motion was careful. It should have

Chapter 158

calmed me. But it didn’t. It only made the contrast sharper.

Suddenly, Lucas approached, stopped two strides away, and waited. Cassian didn’t look up.

“Report,” Cassian said.

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“Four dead, six captured.” Lucas answered. “Two archers fled west. We’re tracking. The driver will live. Grace reports no escort insignia, no coin markers. Hired hands, most likely from the West.”

I stared at him longer than I should have. There was blood drying on the edges of his collar, dust streaking the side of his jaw, but somehow he still looked composed, steady, untouched by the chaos that had just passed.

My chest tightened for reasons I couldn’t name. When his eyes met mine again, my heart skipped, just once, sharp enough that it caught me off guard. I swallowed, trying to steady myself, but the warmth crept up my neck anyway.

Was I blushing? The thought alone made it worse. I forced my gaze away, fixing it on the ground, on the dark stain spreading through the dirt. Then my mouth opened before my brain caught up. “I want to ride with you,” I said.

Cassian’s brow lifted slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face. He didn’t answer right away, and the silence that followed made my throat tighten. I could feel Grace’s eyes on me from somewhere near the carriage, but I didn’t look her way. My voice came again, steadier this time. “I want to stay with you.”

For a moment, Cassian just studied me. Then he turned and started walking toward his horse.

I blinked, unsure what had just happened. My face burned again, the heat spreading down to my chest. Was

he ignoring me? I hadn’t expected him to agree so easily, but I hadn’t expected him to walk away either. I stared after him, speechless, unsure whether to be embarrassed or annoyed.

Then I heard the scrape of leather and the creak of reins. Cassian swung up into the saddle in one smooth motion. He guided his horse toward me, the animal’s steps slow and steady on the dirt road. When he stopped in front of me, he reached down with one hand, palm open.

“Come,” he said.