Marrying a Warhound (Cassian) novel Chapter 178

**TITLE: Brute 178**
**Chapter 178**

**ATASHA’S POV**

As I stepped out of the room where the Elder had been, his words echoed relentlessly in my mind. “I am neither fae nor werewolf…” The declaration felt like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest, suffocating me with its implications.

A breath escaped my lips, almost resembling a laugh, as I muttered to myself, “What lies…” The absurdity of it all was overwhelming. The stone was useless to me; I lacked a wolf within me. And yet, I possessed the uncanny ability to heal in ways that were beyond explanation, beyond comprehension.

Why was I even attempting to unravel this tangled web of my existence? Why was I on a quest to trace my lineage when I felt like a puzzle piece that simply didn’t fit anywhere?

I was weary—exhausted, in fact. Tired of the endless guessing games. Tired of the relentless speculation about who or what I was meant to be. Each time someone hinted at some peculiar aspect of my being, I pursued it as if it were the key to unlocking the mysteries of my life, as if a mere label could somehow clarify the chaos swirling around me.

Why couldn’t I simply allow myself to exist without the burden of categorization?

Why did I feel compelled to conform to the expectations of others—fey, wolf, witch, cursed, blessed, or whatever nonsensical labels people hurled my way? None of those titles ever resonated with me. None of them felt genuine. Every answer I uncovered only led to another question, and with each new inquiry, I felt myself slipping further away from the essence of who I truly was.

I rubbed my forehead, irritation bubbling up as a tightness formed there. “I’m done thinking about this,” I declared quietly, almost defiantly. “If I don’t fit anywhere, then so be it.”

The exhaustion of chasing an identity that perhaps didn’t even exist was wearing me thin. Maybe I didn’t need to align myself with any faction. Perhaps I didn’t have to decipher what made me unique. Maybe, just maybe, I was entitled to exist without needing an explanation.

For once, I longed to simply live, free from the incessant judgments of others about who I should be or what I should not be.

“Your Highness…” Grace’s voice wavered as she caught sight of my expression. She could sense the storm brewing within me, the tension that crackled in the air. “Slow down…”

“Take me to the western borders,” I commanded, my tone sharper than I intended, but I was past the point of caring. I took a determined step toward the carriage,

But Grace was quick to intervene, blocking my path with an unwavering stance, her hands raised as if to prevent me from pushing past her. Her jaw was set tight, a clear indication that she had anticipated this confrontation long before I had even spoken.

“My lady… you can’t,” she said softly, but the strain in her voice betrayed her resolve.

A frown creased my brow. “What do you mean?”

“My lady… the Lord…” Grace paused, swallowing hard, as if the weight of her next words threatened to choke her.

“What’s wrong?” I pressed, my impatience bubbling over.

Grace averted her gaze momentarily before meeting my eyes again, her expression grave. “The Lord has strictly forbidden you from leaving the mansion.”

A sharp intake of breath caught in my throat. “Why? The Demon Fangs are already attacking the border. Cassian is—” I halted, my jaw tightening involuntarily. The horrifying image flashed before my eyes: the Demon Fangs ripping through men, Cassian fighting valiantly despite the pain I had unwittingly caused him. The pain I should have borne myself.

Why would he want to keep me here?

Grace took a small step closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “My lady… it will be dangerous in the coming hours.”

“What do you mean ‘dangerous’?” I demanded, my voice rising in pitch.

Grace didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she gestured toward the hallway, her expression grim.

Footsteps echoed ominously, and Lieutenant Lucas appeared before me, bowing deeply.

“My lady,” he greeted, his tone formal yet laced with an undercurrent of urgency.

“The pain,” Lucas answered, his voice steady. “He was aware he would be injured. He understood that there was no other way to expose the traitors. He orchestrated this moment, the timing, the pressure from the council, to create a situation that would force them to reveal themselves.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Think of it as one of the ancient war strategies, where you feign weakness to draw the enemy out of hiding. A trap within the chaos.”

My jaw clenched tightly. A trap? Why had I not been informed about this? My hands trembled around the box, and Lucas noticed but continued undeterred.

“The North has grown complacent,” he continued. “Too many have forgotten what the Lord is truly capable of. Too many have doubted him, questioned him, plotted against him. This was the only way to corner them, to let them make the first move so he could strike with undeniable proof.”

I shook my head, my voice rougher than I intended. “And he believed that injuring himself was the solution?”

Lucas met my gaze unwaveringly. “Yes. Because he knew you would never allow him to use you as part of the trap. He needed you to appear weakened so that they would act. And he needed to absorb the blow himself to ensure your safety.”

My chest tightened painfully, a mix of anger, fear, and frustration swirling within me until I could no longer discern which emotion was dominant.

“So this was necessary?” I asked, though the question felt more like a plea to myself. Ever since we had arrived in the North, Cassian had shielded me from every danger, every complication, every threat that crossed our path. A part of me understood his instinct—after all, I was his mate, and protecting me was woven into the very fabric of his being.

But another part of me bristled with frustration.

Was this all I was to him? Merely someone to be kept out of harm’s way? Someone too fragile to stand beside him?

I despised how familiar that feeling was. It mirrored the very sentiments I had encountered back in my previous pack—the perception of being weak and helpless, a burden. And here I was again, shielded not because I deserved it, but because everyone assumed I was incapable of handling anything else.

Lucas nodded, his expression grave. “It has been far too long since the North has witnessed what he is truly capable of. Some have begun to believe he has softened. Tonight will change that. He planned for this. He prepared for it. He needs you safe to move freely.”

I closed my eyes momentarily, steadying my breath as the heaviness of the box in my hands seemed to grow.

Grace stepped closer, her voice a gentle whisper. “My lady… please. We must remain here until the Lord returns.”