My Fated Alpha's Cruel Game (Elena and Marcus) novel Chapter 366

Chapter 366: Chapter 366 Storm Cover Strikes

Elena’s POV

The storm pounds against the roof all night, sending water cascading down in heavy sheets that muffle every sound and mask every scent. The entire territory feels compressed beneath the weight of the weather, and sleep refuses to come because I know storms provide perfect cover for movement. Benedict understands this advantage better than most.

He will not repeat his previous tactics.

He will not waste energy attacking fortified positions.

He will not attempt another obvious power grab so quickly.

His strategy will change.

The mate bond vibrates softly in the darkness beside me, not anxious or disturbed, but alert in that profound way that feels like standing at the brink of an invisible cliff.

"He will focus on sabotage now," Kian murmurs into the blackness, aware that I am still awake.

"Yes."

"Infrastructure targets."

"Or information networks."

We remain silent for several moments, letting the tempest swallow the space around us.

"He might also choose something smaller," Kian continues. "More psychological."

"Agreed."

Direct confrontation failed to break us.

Now he will try wearing us down.

I get up before sunrise, moving into the bathroom and starting the shower, allowing the hot water to cascade over my shoulders while I mentally reorganize our defensive map. The border fortifications remain multilayered.

The valley blockades stay operational. Command movement protocols have been adjusted.

What vulnerabilities exist during storm conditions?

Remote agricultural sites.

Transportation corridors.

Lone watchmen.

I dress in simple dark clothing, functional and unremarkable, secure my hair in a tight braid, and head downstairs without additional guards, knowing that obvious fear would give him a propaganda victory.

The main hall carries a subdued atmosphere under the gray morning light, rain still hammering steadily beyond the windows. I move between the tables with controlled composure, speaking softly to warriors who try not to obviously watch every entrance.

Maintaining routine supports group morale.

Especially during stressful periods.

During the middle of morning training, a messenger enters the hall quietly, rainwater dripping from his shoulders, breathing steady but carrying urgency.

"Eastern supply depot," he reports. "Fire damage."

The announcement cuts through the room like a sharp edge.

"Extent of damage," I ask without hesitation.

"Limited to exterior barn structure. No injuries reported."

Limited.

Intentional.

We advance quickly toward the eastern sector with protective escort, and when we arrive at the depot, smoke continues rising in damp gray columns, rain creating steam as it contacts the smoldering timber.

The barn shows half the structure burned, not completely demolished, while the primary supply storage remains undamaged.

"They were not trying to destroy everything," Zora observes quietly while examining the destruction.

"No," I confirm.

"They were sending a message."

Exactly.

A strike at civilian infrastructure edges.

Not a slaughter.

A communication.

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