Marrying a Warhound (Cassian) novel Chapter 9

Someone wanted me dead?

I didn’t drink it.

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Instead, I stared at the swirling surface of the tea, heart hammering, and suddenly, everything around me felt too still. Too quiet. I set the cup down slowly, carefully, as if it might explode. Then I turned toward the door, mind racing.

Who was that girl?

Where was the regular maid who had helped me before? And why was she wearing Cassian’s crest? Did he want me dead after all? No, that can’t be. That’s impossible. He had seen my ability. Does he find it useless after all?

However, before I could process everything, the door opened again, and the girl walked in.

“My Lady… I apologize,” She gave me a shallow bow. “I forgot… but the young lord also wanted me to give you something,” she said with an innocent smile as she locked the door behind her. “The Lord wanted you to have this too,” she said, voice as sweet as honey. Her fingers slipped into the pocket of her apron.

And I didn’t see the blade until it gleamed.

Something primal kicked in. I stumbled back just as steel arced through the air where my throat had been. The slash missed by inches, but not by accident. She wasn’t rushing. She was playing.

I crashed against the couch, breath slamming out of me. “What are you doing?!” I gasped.

Her smile twisted. “Finishing what should’ve been done before you signed.”

Then she lunged,

The knife came at me again, this time aimed low. She was aiming for my gut. I pivoted just enough to feel the fabric of my tunic tear, a hot sting flashing across my side, I cried out, grabbed the nearest thing, a small stool, and flung it at her.

It hit her shoulder, enough to stagger her but not stop her. She hissed, more beast than girl, and came again. Faster. Like a wolf without a scent to track, just a single command: kill.

I dove toward the edge of the table. My hand closed around the silver tray she brought in, and I swung it with all the force I could muster. It smacked her temple with a metallic crack. She

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Chapter 9

stumbled sideways, but only for a heartbeat.

:

Where are the guards? I wonder. What about the servants?

Then she roared.

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The sound made my skin crawl. This was not the sound of a servant omega! This was not the sound a girl could make!

She wasn’t normal.

“Help!” I tried to scream as I ducked another blow and rolled toward the far wall, breathing hard. Pain pulsed from my side, wet warmth soaking through the fabric. She had cut me deep.

But I’d trained for this. I didn’t have a wolf, but I had spent years in the pack’s shadow rings, forced to keep up with my peers. Learning to fight wasn’t optional when you were surrounded by predators.

She slashed again, this time down my forearm. I blocked with my elbow, but the knife still grazed me. Another burn. Another wound.

I kicked her square in the stomach, and she reeled back but not far. I tried to run. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me back, forcing me to the ground. I twisted and drove my elbow into her ribs. She snarled, then raked the blade across my shoulder.

Blood splattered the floor.

She paused, panting, waiting for me to crumple. But I didn’t.

Because the gash, like the others, was already sealing. Her eyes widened, just for a second. “You…”

My healing. She hadn’t expected that.

She came at me harder, more desperate, the knife flashing again and again. My arms, my thighs, my stomach, cut after cut bloomed red. But each time, the wounds began to knit together. Slower than usual, but still enough to keep me alive.

“Why won’t you die?” she shrieked, her face twisted with fury, eyes wide with something beyond hatred, fear. She wasn’t just trying to kill me anymore. She needed to.

Because she’d seen it.

The wounds and the blood and the impossible way they closed.

She had seen my secret.

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Chapter 9

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“You’re a witch,” she spat, voice trembling now. “An abomination. That’s what you are.”

She raised the blade again with a scream and lunged. I threw myself sideways, but not fast enough, her knife plunged into my side and hit something vital. I felt the burn, the split of skin, the crack of something deep, but I didn’t die.

Not even close.

I gasped, choked, and writhed, the agony blinding. But even as she yanked the knife out, already, I felt the slow pulse of my body pulling itself back together. The searing pain dulled to a throb, and blood that should’ve spilled endlessly began to clot.

“No,” she whispered, stepping back like she’d just seen me rise from the grave. “No, no, no— this wasn’t supposed to happen!”

She turned toward the door as if to flee. As if to tell someone.

My limbs shook as I scrambled to my feet, vision swimming. My body was healing, but it still hurt. My muscles screamed with every breath. Still, I grabbed the fallen silver tray again and flung it at her back.

“Because I can’t,” I spat, surging forward and tackled her.

I landed on top of her, both of us gasping, chests heaving as our limbs tangled in a desperate fight for dominance. Her hands clawed for my throat, fingers curling with viciousness. I

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Somehow, impossibly, she was back on her feet, eyes wide with fury, teeth bared like a feral animal. She lunged at me one final time, arms outstretched, shrieking.

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