My Fated Alpha's Cruel Game (Elena and Marcus) novel Chapter 361

Chapter 361: Chapter 361 War Revealed

Elena’s POV

"No," I said firmly.

"They’re targeting our concentration of forces."

"Exactly."

We had compressed our position in the valley. We had increased our visibility. We had become a target.

"They want us to break apart," Kian observed.

"And if we do that," I replied, "we lose our formation."

The third faction launched another assault, and this time one of their commanders became visible on the ridge line, standing taller than the rest, his bearing commanding even amid the chaos.

I squinted, trying to focus through the distance and the moving bodies.

Not Malcom.

Not one of his lieutenants.

A different presence entirely.

A different rhythm to his movements.

The commander threw back his head and released a piercing howl that sliced through the valley like a knife, and the attacking wolves responded immediately, their movements shifting from chaotic to coordinated.

There.

That was not wild behavior.

That was leadership.

Malcom noticed it as well.

His face grew grim.

"I recognize that call," he said quietly.

My heartbeat steadied.

"Who is it," I demanded.

He did not respond right away.

The northern defensive line wavered under renewed assault, and Northwood Ridge’s Alpha shouted an order that pulled it back into position, but the pressure was real now, visible and urgent.

"Malcom," I said again.

His jaw clenched.

"Benedict Graves," he said at last.

The name struck me like a physical blow.

Benedict.

Former warlord of the southern coalition.

Banished years ago after his failed attempt at territorial expansion.

Ruthless.

Power-hungry.

Dishonored.

I remembered the council’s decision.

I remembered Malcom advocating for exile rather than execution.

You let him live.

Malcom’s gaze shifted toward me, and he could see I had made the connection.

"He was not supposed to recover," Malcom said.

"But he did recover," I replied.

And he had waited.

He had waited for division.

He had waited for vulnerability.

He had waited for alliance.

He had waited for confrontation between the established leader and the challenger.

Then he had attacked.

Another wave crashed against the northern line, and this time the sound of collision carried the weight of injury and exhaustion, not just movement.

"We have wounded," a captain called out.

The words cut through the air.

Our defensive position could not hold forever.

"We need to decide," Kian said sharply beside me.

He was correct.

We could not maintain a static defense under pressure from three directions.

I turned toward Malcom.

"If I release your forces, you fight under my authority," I said.

His eyes grew sharp.

"You would risk that," he said.

"This is not about risk," I replied. "This is about staying alive."

The bond between us pulsed low and steady.

We did not have time for debates about strategy.

Benedict was not testing us.

Benedict was moving in for the kill.

Another signal flare streaked across the sky, this one red instead of white.

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