Marrying a Warhound (Cassian) novel Chapter 179

**TITLE: Brute 179**
**Chapter 179**

**ATASHA’S POV**

“I can’t just remain here,” I murmured under my breath, my footsteps echoing in the confines of Cassian’s study. The walls felt as if they were closing in, and the air hung heavy and stagnant around me. “Cassian needs me.”

Despite the severed bond, an undeniable intuition told me that he required my presence. It was a sensation that transcended the realm of magic, rooted instead in something deeper. I could sense his pain, the struggle he was enduring, while I was left here… ensnared in this room.

Grace stood by the shelves, her posture tense and her gaze flickering nervously toward the closed door. Lucas was on the other side, a silent sentinel, his presence a stark reminder of my confinement.

Every possible escape route in this mansion was fortified. I didn’t need to verify it; Cassian had meticulously arranged it himself. Guards were positioned at every entrance, in the hallways, at the windows, and by the courtyard gate. The entire estate felt like a fortress, sealed tight.

“Why would the Demon Fangs choose this moment to strike?” I pondered aloud, my voice barely above a whisper. The question gnawed at me, relentless and insistent, until it began to throb in my temples. It couldn’t be a random occurrence. There had to be a catalyst, something that provoked their assault.

But remaining here yielded no answers. Each moment I lingered felt like another moment where Cassian faced his challenges alone.

I approached the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to glimpse the guards stationed outside. They weren’t even attempting to patrol; they stood rigidly, following his orders, specifically instructed to prevent my departure.

Frustration surged within me. “He knows I would try to follow him,” I muttered, half to myself and half to the universe, my voice laced with a mix of anger and desperation.

Grace stepped closer, her tone gentle yet firm. “My lady, he only wishes to keep you safe.”

Safe. The word hung in the air, heavy with irony. He wanted me to be safe, confined in this room while he fought and bled at the border. Safe while he endured wounds meant for me.

Safe while my presence could have made a difference.

I turned away from the window, the tightness in my chest becoming unbearable. “I don’t want safety,” I said softly, my voice barely audible. “Not like this.”

Grace lowered her eyes, uncertain whether to respond or remain silent.

But it was of little consequence. My thoughts were already racing ahead. Did Cassian truly believe that this study and a handful of guards could keep me here? He underestimated the lengths I would go for him.

Staying in this room was no longer an option.

Did he honestly expect me to adhere to every command he left behind? The mere thought made my jaw clench in frustration. I bit my lower lip, contemplating turning to Grace, pleading with her to assist me in escaping this prison.

But before I could utter a word, chaos erupted outside.

Suddenly, shouts pierced the air, accompanied by the clash of metal. The sound of boots thundering against the courtyard floor reached my ears.

Grace’s head whipped toward the door just as I rushed to the window, pushing the curtain aside to survey the scene unfolding below.

In the yard, soldiers were engaged in fierce combat, Northern guards clashing with a group I initially failed to recognize. Some were attempting to restrain an individual, while others scrambled to form a cohesive line. This was no mere patrol dispute; something significant had breached the mansion’s defenses.

My heart raced. “What is happening out there?” I breathed, more to myself than to Grace, my mind racing to comprehend the unfolding chaos.

From my vantage point, I scanned the tumult once more, desperate to identify the combatants. And then I spotted her.

Matron Yara.

She emerged from behind a cluster of armored men, her cloak billowing dramatically as she barked orders with authority. The soldiers around her moved with precision, pushing back the Northern guards step by step.

My eyes widened in shock. “A coup…” The realization slipped from my lips before I could suppress it. “Matron Yara is rebelling.”

“Grace…” I glanced at her, searching her expression. “You’re not worried.”

She didn’t deny it. “The Lord anticipated this.”

I stared at her, my mind racing. “He foresaw this? Did he know about the coup?”

Grace nodded, her expression grave. “Perhaps not every detail, but he was aware that today would force someone’s hand. Matron Yara was one of the possibilities he prepared for.”

I looked out the window once more, taking in the chaos, the clashing soldiers, the blood staining the stones.

**Chapter 179**

Cassian predicted this? A rebellion erupting within his own territory, coinciding with an attack on the borders?

My fists clenched tightly, a surge of determination igniting within me.

So this was the game he had set in motion. And now the enemy was advancing straight toward us.

Grace stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the chaos outside. “My lady, whatever unfolds next… be prepared.”

Prepared? For what, I could no longer discern. But if Cassian had anticipated this far ahead, then he had already set the pieces in motion.

And Yara was precisely where he intended her to be.

Or was she?