Chapter 370 Underground Sabotage Strike
Marcus’s POV
The mention of tunnel systems hits me like a physical blow, more unsettling than any forest battle could be. Open warfare has rules and boundaries you can see, but underground infiltration is personal and lethal. I refuse to let frustration cloud my judgment as I pivot toward the southern ridge.
"Tell me about entry points," I command Malcom while we cross the main compound with urgent purpose.
"Three main access routes, two backup passages," he answers immediately. "Built for emergency evacuations during siege situations."
"You surveyed them personally."
"Correct."
"Command level clearance only."
"Absolutely."
Yet Benedict discovered them somehow.
The connection between Elena and me thrums with controlled intensity, not broken or desperate, but acutely focused on the reality that this transcends territorial posturing. This is weaponized knowledge of our internal systems.
"Lock down surface exits," I direct. "No demolition until we know their numbers."
Zora coordinates the response immediately, mixed tactical teams shifting south with disciplined efficiency rather than frantic scrambling. In underground environments, panic kills faster than weapons.
At the southern ridge access point, the soil shows disturbance but minimal heavy traffic, indicating the infiltration team moved with speed and stealth instead of forcing their way through.
"Small unit," Kian observes.
"Exactly," I confirm. "Extraction mission or infrastructure strike."
The bond pulses once, steady and arctic cold.
"Water systems or electrical grid," Malcom suggests.
Precisely.
Target critical infrastructure.
Create resource crisis.
Force strategic vulnerability.
We descend into the main tunnel with calculated spacing, not bunched together but positioned for overlapping sight lines, wet stone treacherous under our boots, air dense and frigid compared to forest terrain.
The passage carries scents of soil and ancient mineral deposits, and with each step deeper, the surface world compresses into distant memory.
"They will attempt divided movement," Zora breathes.
"Agreed."
"Passage narrows beyond the first curve."
"Then we maintain flexible positioning."
We navigate the initial turn, and the tunnel splits exactly as Malcom detailed, one route descending toward water management systems, another veering left toward legacy storage infrastructure.
"Movement," Kian whispers.
I freeze completely.
There.
Subtle scraping sound.
Not our own echo.
Active presence ahead.
"Left passage," I murmur. "Water access runs deeper."
Zora acknowledges and directs two units to secure our retreat while we advance left in measured progression.
The bond maintains steady rhythm, but compressed now, because confined combat eliminates reaction time.
At the second curve, we locate them.
Four operatives.
Minimal numbers.
Working efficiently at a reinforced pipe connection.
Sabotage operation.
They detect our approach instantly, and the engagement in restricted space becomes immediate and vicious, no room for elaborate maneuvers or extended exchanges, only close contact force and survival instinct.
I surge into the narrow opening and deliver a precise strike across the nearest attacker’s ribcage, driving him backward into stone wall, while Zora secures another in a submission hold that terminates resistance within heartbeats.
Professional training.
Not random aggression.
Benedict’s elite operatives.
"Assess the junction," I order.
Two of his wolves try retreating deeper into the channel, but our rear security closes off the corridor behind them, eliminating escape routes.
Soon, all four are neutralized.
"Status report on damage," I demand.
"Partially compromised connection," a team member reports. "Not completely breached."
They planned to collapse the pressure mechanism.
Flood lower valley water supply.
Force mass relocation.
Not direct slaughter.
System failure.
Benedict deployed forest assault as northern distraction.
Sent sabotage unit south.
Standard pressure division tactics.
"He needed us overextended to miss this operation," Malcom states quietly.
"Correct."
"And if this had succeeded."
"Water failure by dawn."
The bond maintains steady, cold pulse.
We avoid prolonged exposure.
"Sweep secondary branch," I direct.
Because multiple teams remain possible if he sent one.
We divide carefully, preserving visual contact at each junction, and reach the storage conduit to discover evidence of presence but no active operatives.
"Withdrawal completed," Kian confirms.
Exactly.
This represented the primary objective.
And we intercepted it.
We return toward surface with measured pace, escorting the captured operatives, and when we emerge into dim gray morning light, the southern perimeter feels transformed, not damaged, but intensified.
"He increased tactical sophistication," Zora notes.