Mated to My Fiancé's Alpha King Brother Chapter 90

Seraphina’s POV

The peaceful mont in the garden was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps on the gravel path. Lucas appeared around the corner of the main building, his expression grim and his usually perfect posture slightly disheveled.

"Damien," he called out, his voice carrying the urgency that ant bad news. "We need to talk. Now."

Damien imdiately shifted into his Alpha King mode, his entire deanor changing from the gentle mate who’d been listening to my theories to the commanding leader his pack needed him to be. But his hand remained on mine, a small anchor of comfort in what was clearly about to beco a difficult conversation.

"What happened?" Damien asked, rising from the bench but keeping close to his side.

Lucas’s eyes flicked to briefly. The hesitation lasted only a mont before he seed to rember that I was no longer the oga assistant who needed to be protected from pack business.

"Three more patrols hit in the past six hours," Lucas reported, his voice tight with frustration. "Sa pattern as before—coordinated strikes designed to inflict maximum casualties without engaging in prolonged combat. We’ve got eight more warriors down, and morale is starting to crack."

I felt my stomach clench with anxiety. "How bad are the injuries?" I asked, already starting to rise from the bench.

"They’re being treated," Lucas assured , though his expression softened slightly at my obvious concern. "The dical team is doing everything they can. What we need now is a strategy to stop this from happening again."

Damien ran his free hand through his hair. "Have the patrols been able to track the rogues back to their base?"

"That’s the problem," Lucas said, his frustration evident. "These aren’t random attacks. The rogues are hitting our patrols and then vanishing into the wilderness like ghosts. Our tracking teams can follow their scent for maybe half a mile before the trail goes completely cold."

"Magic?" I suggested.

"Possibly," Damien agreed grimly. "Or they’re just better at covering their tracks than we anticipated."

As I listened to them discuss patrol routes and defensive strategies, sothing began to crystallize in my mind. The pattern Lucas was describing, the careful way the rogues were operating—it reminded of sothing I’d read about during my business studies.

"What if you’re looking at this wrong?" I said suddenly, interrupting their discussion of reinforcent schedules.

Both n turned to look at with expressions of polite attention that I could tell were masking so doubt. I was still new to this whole alpha thing, still finding my footing as soone whose strategic opinions mattered. But the more I thought about it, the more convinced I beca that I was onto sothing.

"Explain," Damien said, and I could hear in his voice that he was genuinely interested in my perspective rather than just humoring .

I stood up from the bench, needing to pace as I organized my thoughts. "The rogues aren’t trying to win territory or inflict maximum casualties," I began, my mind racing as the pieces fell into place. "They’re trying to exhaust your resources."

Lucas frowned. "What do you an?"

"Think about it," I continued, my excitent growing as I saw the strategy more clearly. "Every ti they hit a patrol, you have to pull warriors from other duties to provide dical care, to investigate, to reinforce the remaining patrols. You’re spreading your forces thinner and thinner trying to cover all the vulnerable points."

Damien’s silver-blue eyes were sharp with interest now. "Go on."

"It’s exactly like what happened in the corporate raids I studied in business school," I said, beginning to pace in earnest. "When a larger company wants to acquire a smaller one, they don’t always make a direct takeover bid."

"You think the rogues are trying to destabilize our border defenses," Lucas said slowly, and I could see understanding beginning to dawn in his expression.

"I think they’re trying to make you so desperate to stop the attacks that you’ll pull warriors from other strategic positions," I corrected. "Think about it—if you keep reinforcing the border patrols, eventually you’ll have to weaken your defenses sowhere else. The capital, the pack lands, the economic centers..."

Damien had gone very still, the way he did when he was processing information that could change everything. "They’re not trying to break through our border defenses," he said quietly. "They’re trying to create an opening sowhere else entirely."

"Exactly." I felt a rush of satisfaction at having my analysis taken seriously. "The border attacks are a diversion. The real target is probably sothing completely different."

Lucas was nodding now. "It would explain why they’re so careful not to engage in prolonged combat."

"So what do we do about it?" Damien asked, and the fact that he was asking .

I took a deep breath, knowing that what I was about to propose would sound crazy, possibly even dangerous. But sotis the best way to deal with a manipulation was to turn it back on the manipulator.

"We give them what they think they want," I said carefully. "We make them believe their strategy is working."

Both n stared at in confusion, and I could practically see the objections forming in their minds.

"Hear out," I said quickly, raising my hands to forestall their protests. "What if we pulled back most of the border patrols? Made it look like the attacks had been so effective that we couldn’t maintain adequate coverage?"

"Sera," Lucas said carefully, his voice carrying the tone of soone trying not to insult a superior’s intelligence, "that would leave our borders completely vulnerable."

"No, it wouldn’t," I said, my conviction growing stronger as I thought through the details. "We pull back the obvious patrols, but we leave a small number of our best scouts hidden in strategic positions. When the rogues see what they think is an undefended border, they’ll finally make their real move."

Damien was watching with an expression I couldn’t quite read. "You want to use our border as bait."

"I want to turn their strategy against them," I corrected. "Right now, they’re controlling the engagent. They hit us when and where they choose, then disappear before we can respond effectively. But if we can trick them into revealing their true objective..."

"We could be walking into a trap," Lucas warned. "If you’re wrong about their motivations, if this really is just about taking territory, pulling back our defenses could be catastrophic."

He had a point, and I could feel so of my confidence wavering. What if I was wrong? What if my business school theories didn’t apply to supernatural military strategy? What if my suggestion got people killed?

But then I rembered the wounded warriors I’d just healed, the fear I’d seen in the eyes of the younger pack mbers, the way this constant state of siege was wearing down everyone’s morale.

"The risk is real," I acknowledged, eting Lucas’s concerned gaze directly. "But so is the risk of continuing to let them bleed us slowly. How many more patrol teams are you willing to lose while we wait for them to reveal their real plan?"

The question hung in the air between us, heavy with implications. I could see Lucas struggling with it.

Damien, however, had been unusually quiet during this exchange. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute authority.

"She’s right," he said simply.

Lucas’s head snapped toward his Alpha, surprise evident on his features. "Damien—"

"She’s right, Lucas," Damien repeated, his tone brooking no argunt. "It’s ti to change that.”