Sold to Bastard Alpha after My Divorce!-Chapter 219

Kael’s POV

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The walk back to the command tent was silent.

Aria’s hand was in mine. I could feel her pulse through her wrist—steady, controlled, but faster than it should be. She was thinking. Processing. Turning over what we’d just witnessed in that corridor.

Two men dead. Poisoned by their own side.

Magnus didn’t leave loose ends.

We reached the tent. I held the flap open. Aria walked through first, and I followed, letting it fall closed behind us.

The map table was still covered in markings from this morning—defensive positions, patrol routes, supply lines. All of it suddenly felt inadequate. Like we’d been playing checkers while Magnus was setting up a chess board.

And Rebecca was helping him.

The thought sat in my chest like a stone.

I moved to the table. Braced both hands on the edge. Stared down at the map without really seeing it.

Aria came to stand beside me. Close enough that our shoulders touched. She didn’t say anything. Just waited.

Smart woman.

She knew I needed a minute.

I took a breath. Let it out slow.

"Talk to me," I said finally. "Tell me what you’re thinking."

She was quiet for a moment. Then: "Rebecca doesn’t know military strategy."

I looked at her.

She was staring at the map, her expression thoughtful. Focused. That particular look she got when she was working through a problem piece by piece.

"She grew up in a powerful family," Aria continued. "She’s been around warriors her whole life. But she’s never commanded soldiers. Never planned operations. Never studied terrain or tactics or any of the things Magnus would actually need to run a guerrilla campaign."

She traced one finger along the northern border.

"So if she’s not providing military expertise—what is she providing?"

I straightened slightly. Watched her work through it.

"Information," she said. Soft but certain. "That’s what she’s good at. Reading people. Manipulating situations. Finding weaknesses and exploiting them." Her finger stopped on the camp’s position. "She doesn’t know your soldiers. She doesn’t know your defenses. She doesn’t understand how you run operations."

She looked up at me.

"But she knows *you.*"

The stone in my chest got heavier.

"She spent years watching you," Aria said. "Learning your patterns. Your habits. The way you think. The way you react under pressure." Her voice stayed steady but something flickered in her eyes. "She knows what makes you angry. What makes you reckless. What you’d do anything to protect."

She touched her stomach. Just briefly. An unconscious gesture that made something sharp twist in my gut.

"She knows about me," Aria said quietly. "About the girls. She knows exactly where to hit you to make it hurt most."

I closed my eyes.

Exhaled hard through my nose.

She was right.

Of course she was right.

Rebecca had always been good at finding pressure points. At knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to get under someone’s skin. It was one of the things that had made her so effective in pack politics—that ability to read people and turn their own emotions against them.

And now she was using that skill to help Magnus.

Against me.

Against my family.

"She’s coming for us," I said. It wasn’t a question.

"I think so." Aria’s hand found mine on the table. Squeezed once. "Not directly. She’s too smart for that. But she’ll find ways to get to you through the people you care about. Through vulnerabilities you didn’t know you had."

I turned my hand over. Laced my fingers through hers.

"I won’t let her touch you," I said. Low. Firm. A promise I meant with every cell in my body. "Or the girls. Or this baby. I don’t care what she knows. I don’t care what she tries. She’s not getting near any of you."

Aria looked up at me. Her eyes were soft but steady.

"I know," she said simply.

She believed me.

I could feel it through the bond—that absolute trust, unshakeable and warm, sitting right at the center of her chest.

It made something in me settle. Just slightly.

I pulled her against me. Wrapped both arms around her and rested my chin on top of her head. We stood like that for a long moment. Just breathing. Just being.

Then I felt it.

A pulse in my mind. Sharp. Urgent.

Ronan’s voice came through the mind link, crackling with static and adrenaline.

*Alpha—we’ve got movement on the eastern perimeter. Multiple hostiles. They’re hitting us hard—*

"Fuck." I pulled back from Aria. "It’s Ronan. Eastern perimeter under attack."

I focused on the link. Pushed back. *How many?*

*At least twenty. Maybe more. They came out of nowhere—Alpha, they knew exactly where to hit. They bypassed the new positions and went straight for—*

The link exploded with noise.

Shouting. Snarling. The wet, meaty sound of bodies colliding. The sharp crack of bones breaking.

Fighting.

*Ronan!* I pushed harder. *Report!*

Nothing.

Just chaos on the other end. Sounds I couldn’t parse. Voices I couldn’t identify.

And then—

A scream.

Not a war cry. Not a battle roar.

A scream of pain. Real pain. The kind that meant something had gone very, very wrong.

The link wavered. Flickered.

*Ronan!* I was shouting now. Out loud and through the link at the same time. *Ronan, talk to me!*

Static.