Chapter 363 The Perfect Bait
Marcus’s POV
"And you thought exile would break him."
"Yes."
It did not.
The bond thrums steady and cold between us.
"You underestimated his hunger for power," I say.
He holds my stare without wavering.
"Yes."
The confession hangs thick in the air.
"We will not make that mistake twice," I say.
"No."
Hours later, after the command room empties, I walk onto the balcony and let the cool night air ease the tension still wound tight beneath my skin. The valley stretches dark beyond the treeline, and somewhere past that distant ridge, Benedict rebuilds whatever temporary base he calls home.
"He wanted us fractured," Kian says quietly from behind me.
"Yes."
"He calculated wrong."
"Partly."
The bond flickers faintly.
"He saw our alliance," I continue. "But he also saw the price we paid."
We took losses.
Small ones, but losses nonetheless.
"He will push harder next time," Kian says.
"Yes."
The third faction did not flee in panic.
They pulled back to reassess.
Dawn comes too fast, bringing with it a messenger from the northern ridge.
"Scouts report activity beyond the ridge," he says. "Not a direct advance. Reconnaissance work."
Benedict is not running.
He is circling like a predator.
I cross to the map without delay.
"He is studying our new positions," I say.
"Yes," Zora confirms.
"He will probe our outer defenses first," Malcom adds.
The bond pulses steady and calculating.
"Then we change the pattern," I reply.
"How," Northwood Ridge’s Alpha asks.
"We ignore the ridge reconnaissance," I say. "We strengthen the east side without fanfare."
"Misdirect his attention," Kian says.
"Yes."
We spend the time recalculating patrol routes, shifting rotation schedules, and deliberately creating false patterns.
By noon, intelligence confirms that Benedict’s advance scouts tried to pull our northern forces out of position, but our eastern reinforcement intercepted a flanking maneuver before it could develop, forcing his units to withdraw too early.
"He did not anticipate deception," Zora says quietly.
"No."
"He expected direct retaliation."
"Yes."
Benedict operates through dominance and force.
He assumes immediate response.
We offer him uncertainty instead.
The bond thrums steady and determined.
But uncertainty alone will not stop him.
He will push harder soon.
By late afternoon, fresh intelligence arrives, more urgent this time.
"Benedict’s Beta spotted much closer," the messenger reports. "Directly testing our forward positions."
"He is closing distance," Kian says.
"Yes."
"He wants open confrontation."
"He wants to shatter our confidence," I reply.
Malcom examines the map with intense focus.
"He will go for a symbolic strike," he says. "Not a full assault. Something targeted."
The observation settles heavy in the room.
"What would he target," I ask.
He raises his eyes slowly.
"Command structure."
Silence slams through the space.
Not the perimeter.
Not civilian areas.
Leadership.
He wants to prove he can reach the center of power.
The bond tightens slightly, not from fear but from understanding.
"He will try for capture," Malcom continues. "Or elimination."
The room seems to shrink around us.
"He cannot penetrate this compound easily," Northwood Ridge’s Alpha says.
"No," I reply.
"But he can set an ambush during transport."
The bond hums sharper now.
We have been traveling between the valley and compound openly.
He has observed our routines.
"He will attack when leadership appears vulnerable," Zora says.
"Yes."
The truth settles like cold metal in my chest.
If Benedict wants to break our unity, he strikes at the heart.
Which means he comes for me.
I stand slowly.
"Then we do not avoid him," I say.
"Clarify," Kian says quietly.
"We do not shelter in place," I continue. "We force him to overcommit."
Malcom’s expression sharpens.
"You want him to take the bait," he says.
"Yes."
"He will not move without clear advantage."
"Then we create apparent weakness."
Heavy silence fills the space.
"That carries significant risk," Zora says.
"Yes."
The bond pulses steady and unwavering.
"Calculated exposure," I explain. "Visible transit. Minimal security. Predictable route."
"With hidden backup positioned," Kian adds.
"Yes."
Northwood Ridge’s Alpha studies me intently.
"You will use yourself as bait."
"Yes."
Because predators strike hardest when pride promises easy victory.
Duskclaw descends with tension woven through every hallway, and I walk the training grounds as twilight fades, exposed, moving between units without heavy protection, stance relaxed but purposeful.
Reconnaissance reports increased ridge activity.
Benedict is observing.
Perfect.
Let him watch.
The bond hums low and constant.
This is no longer defensive strategy.
This is psychological warfare.
Benedict believes he stalks weakened leadership.
He has not yet learned what leadership becomes under pressure.
Somewhere beyond the ridge, a sharp howl pierces the darkness again, not random, not questioning.
Deliberate.
He is closer than before.
And this time, he will not merely test us.
He will commit everything.
And when he does, he will either destroy us completely.
Or expose himself beyond recovery.
The game has evolved again.
And this time, we control when the final confrontation begins.