Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother - Chapter 91

91: Chapter 91 91: Chapter 91 Seraphina’s POV
The command center buzzed with controlled tension as dawn broke over the eastern border.

I stood beside Damien at the central tactical display, watching dozens of red dots move across the digital map like predators circling their prey.

Each dot represented a scout position, carefully hidden among the trees and rocky outcroppings that dotted our territorial boundary.

Twenty-four hours had passed since we’d implemented my strategy, and my nerves felt stretched tighter than a bowstring.

“Still no movement from the main rogue force,” Lucas reported from his position at the communications console, his voice carrying the exhaustion we all felt after maintaining this vigil through the night.

“But our scouts are reporting increased chatter from the smaller groups.

They’re definitely taking the bait.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly grateful for the thick sweater I’d thrown on.

The command center was kept deliberately cool to prevent the electronic equipment from overheating, but the chill seemed to seep into my bones as we waited for our gamble to either pay off spectacularly or fail catastrophically.

“Second thoughts?” Damien asked quietly, his voice pitched low enough that only I could hear it.

I looked up at him, taking in the lines of stress around his silver-blue eyes, the way his jaw was clenched with barely controlled tension.

“No,” I said firmly, though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

“Alpha,” came a crackling voice through the radio, urgent but controlled.

“This is Scout Team Seven.

We’ve got movement on the northern ridge.

Large group, maybe forty rogues, approaching what they think is an undefended section.”
The entire command center went silent except for the electronic hum of equipment.

Damien moved to the radio with fluid grace, his entire demeanor shifting into the commanding presence that had made him the most powerful Alpha King in living memory.

“Copy, Scout Seven.

Maintain concealment and report when they begin crossing into our territory.”
My hands were shaking slightly as I watched the tactical display update with new information.

Forty rogues was a significant force-large enough to overwhelm a normal patrol, but small enough to retreat quickly if they encountered serious resistance.

“There,” I whispered, pointing to the screen as new contacts appeared.

“Look at the formation they’re using.”
Lucas joined us at the display, his sharp eyes analyzing the enemy movement patterns.

“They’re not spreading out for territorial occupation,” he said slowly, understanding dawning in his voice.

“They’re staying in tight formation, ready for rapid withdrawal.”
The radio crackled again.

“Alpha, this is Scout Team Three.

We have eyes on a second group moving through the western pass.

Approximately thirty rogues, same tight formation as the first.”
“And there’s the confirmation,” I murmured.

“Multiple simultaneous probes to force us to split our response.”
Damien was already moving, his tactical mind racing ahead to the next phase of our counter-strategy.

“All teams, maintain concealment until further orders.

Do not engage unless directly threatened.”
“Sir,” came the questioning voice of one of the younger officers, “shouldn’t we be moving to intercept?

If we let them penetrate deeper into our territory…”
“We let them think they’ve succeeded,” Damien said firmly.

“Everyone hold position and trust the plan.”
The next hour passed like an eternity.

I watched the red dots on our tactical display inch deeper into our territory, each movement representing rogues who thought they were exploiting our weakness.

Every instinct I had screamed at me to send our warriors after them, to stop the invasion before it could gain momentum.

“Alpha,” Scout Team Seven reported, their voice tight with barely controlled excitement.

“The northern group has reached the decoy supply depot.

They’re…

they’re not taking anything.

They’re just observing and taking notes.”
I felt a rush of vindication so intense it made me dizzy.

“They’re gathering intelligence,” I said to Damien.

“Scout Team Three reports similar activity at the western checkpoint,” Lucas added.

“Then we spring the trap.”
The next phase of our plan unfolded with military precision that made me understand why Damien commanded such fierce loyalty from his people.

Hidden explosive devices that had been carefully positioned along the rogues’ most likely retreat routes were armed and ready.

Concealed warriors moved into flanking positions that would cut off escape routes while leaving the enemy with only one apparent path to safety-a path that led directly through our kill zone.

“All teams, prepare for Operation Mousetrap,” Damien commanded through the radio.

“Remember, we want prisoners alive for interrogation.

Disable, don’t destroy.”
I watched the tactical display with fascination and growing excitement as our forces moved into position like pieces on a chessboard.

After months of reactive defense, we were finally taking control of the engagement.

“Northern group is beginning their withdrawal,” Scout Team Seven reported.

“They’re heading straight for the canyon route, just like predicted.”
“Western group is also pulling back,” confirmed Scout Team Three.

“They’re moving fast, but they’re following the path of least resistance exactly as anticipated.”
My heart was racing as I watched the coordinated retreat that would lead both rogue groups directly into our carefully prepared ambush.

Everything was proceeding exactly as I had predicted, but I couldn’t shake the fear that something would go wrong at the last second.

The radio crackled with urgent updates as both rogue groups moved deeper into our trap.

“Northern group approaching the primary kill zone…

now entering the canyon…

charges are armed and ready…”
“Western group is thirty seconds behind them,” came the second report.

“All units in position.”
“Execute Operation Mousetrap,” Damien commanded.

What followed was chaos coordinated with surgical precision.

The explosions that erupted along the canyon route were carefully calibrated to disable rather than kill-enough force to knock the rogues unconscious or inflict non-fatal injuries, but not enough to completely destroy our opportunity for intelligence gathering.

Through the command center’s speakers, we could hear the sounds of the ambush unfolding: shouted orders from our warriors, the confused cries of trapped rogues, the controlled violence of a perfectly executed tactical operation.

“Northern group is down!” Scout Team Seven reported with barely contained excitement.

“Fifteen casualties, twelve prisoners, minimal friendly fire.

The remaining rogues are surrendering.”
“Western group neutralized as well,” confirmed Scout Team Three.

“Twenty prisoners, eight casualties.

They never saw us coming.”
The command center erupted in cheers and congratulations, but all I could focus on was the relief flooding through my system.

It had worked.

“Sera,” Damien said, his voice thick with emotion that made me look up at him in surprise.

Before I could say anything, he swept me up in his arms, lifting me clean off my feet and spinning me around in a circle that made me laugh despite the tears streaming down my face.

The entire command center was watching us, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about protocol or dignity.

“You brilliant, incredible woman,” he said, setting me down but keeping his arms wrapped tightly around me.

“You did it.

You actually did it.”