Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 95 – At the Altar

Victor stands at the head of the room, his groomsmen spread out next to him in a line. He forces a

smile onto his face, mostly for the sake of the awaiting crowd. He is a happy groom, after all.

As each of Amelia’s bridesmaids come down the aisle, he gives them a nod. Each of them lovely

women, all Alpha-born, the perfect group of friends that Amelia has carefully curated over the years.

Passively, he wonders if she actually cares about any of them, or if they’re each selected just for their

political or social media connections.

It’s what an Alpha’s wife would do, Victor thinks. But…

The last bridesmaid comes down the aisle and the music swells. Victor shakes his head, clearing it of

these thoughts and focusing his eyes on the end of the aisle. Amelia will be beautiful, he knows. He

stands up straight, anticipating the shock of joy and love that will hit him when he finally sees her.

Until now, he hasn’t really felt that on this, his wedding day.

The doors to the Bridal Suite’s vestibule open and Amelia steps out, taking her father’s hand. They

exchange a few words as the door snicks shut behind her. The pair then begin to walk the few steps to

the aisle, where they will start their journey to the altar.

As Amelia makes her final turn and stands before him, Victor does, indeed, find his breath stolen away.

His eyes skim over her beautiful body, her gown, her angelic face, as she begins to take those first

steps. Her pearl-lined shoes peek out from beneath yards of tulle and she smiles at him, confident, her

expression at once serene and excited.

He returns her smile, shaking his head a little at this marvel that is his fiancé, but –

Victor blinks twice, realizing that something is wrong.

Where –

He looks around, seeking his sons. They were supposed to walk out in front of Amelia, her honor guard

down the aisle, but they’re nowhere in sight.

Victor quickly scans the guests, looking for them, but they’re not seated either. He even checks his line

of groomsmen, wondering if they got mixed up and were standing in line –

No, nothing.

Frowning, Victor looks for Evelyn, knowing that she will know where they are –

But Evelyn is missing as well.

Victor steps down the two small steps at the front of the altar, moving towards Amelia. The crowd stills,

unsettled. Amelia stops walking, going pale.

His face grim with worry, Victor strides towards her.

“Where are Ian and Alvin?” He asks in a whisper.

“Victor,” Amelia hisses back, low and embarrassed, “get back to the Altar – what are you doing! I

haven’t even finished – this is my moment!”

He stares at her, moving his head back and forth just a millimeter, the tiniest of negations. He can’t

believe that Amelia is worried about her “moment” when his sons are missing.

Blinking, he suddenly realizes that of course he can believe that. It’s precisely what Amelia would do.

“Where are they, Amelia,” he says, his voice still a whisper, but now tinged with a growl. “I know they

went into the Bridal Suite with Evelyn, why didn’t they come out?”

She rolls her eyes and huffs. “They’re fine, Victor! They just didn’t want to!”

He stares beyond her, disbelieving, and starts to take a step further down the aisle. Amelia grabs his

arm. “They’re sick!” she whispers. “They’ll be fine, let’s just finish this first!”

“They’re sick?” He says, his brows drawing together with concern. Now he really needs to go to them –

they were the picture of health not five minutes ago –

“Victor, they’re fine! Evelyn’s with them!” Amelia says as he storms past her. The crowd of guests

gasps, shocked to see him walking the wrong way down the aisle, without his bride. “Victor!” Amelia

cries, stamping her foot. “Honestly, they’re fine!”

Ignoring her, pissed and worried, Victor storms towards the bridal suite. Before he can rip the door

open, someone grabs his arm. Victor turns quickly to see Amelia’s father behind him. “You will get back

to the Altar, son,” the man whispers to him, his voice shaking with rage.

Victor snarls at him, ripping his arm from his grasp and taking two menacing steps in his direction. Who

the hell did this man think he was? Amelia was Alpha born, but barely – her father was the leader of a

new pack, barely twenty-five years old. He has no power, no legacy, and yet he dares to grab Victor’s

arm?

Victor wonders, has he really fallen this low in the esteem of his colleagues?

“Keep your hands off me,” the words rip from Victor’s throat, filled with threat, tinged with murder. “The

next time you touch me, dare to command me, you’ll be able to count on one hand the breaths you

have left in your body.”

Victor is glad to see the man quail, falling back a few steps and raising his hand in apology. Turning to

the crowd that stares at him, appalled, Victor roars, a sound of pure fury. “I seek my sons and heirs,” he

snarls. “They are missing, and I will have them returned to me if I have to rip open the throat of every

man in his room!”

The crowd goes still and wide-eyed, sensing the truth behind his vicious words. This is not the weak-

willed Alpha Kensington they’ve heard was pushed around by Alpha Walsh and Alpha Willard in the

past few months; this is the Alpha incarnate, the man who can lead nations.

Victor turns back to his task, his attention firmly on the vestibule door. He yanks the handle hard

enough to pull it off its hinges and it flies open. He takes two steps into the room, his blood going cold

when he hears, suddenly, the muffled cries of his children, the pounding of their fists on wood.

His eyes take in the scene, not yet knowing what to do with it –

Evelyn, kneeling, on the floor in the corner of the room, twisting a pin from her hair in a small golden

lock –

One of Amelia’s bridesmads – how did he miss her absence from the procession? – breathing

shallowly on the floor, her face almost green with illness.

And, above it all, the relentless, panicked cries of his children –

In a moment, he puts it all together. Tossing a glare over his shoulder to where Amelia stands now,

peeking around the door, Victor takes three steps forward.

“Evelyn,” he says, barely containing his rage, “Step aside.”

Evelyn jumps and turns to stare up at him, her face red with anxiety and lined with tears.

“Victor,” she breathes, falling back on her behind. “I can’t – I can’t get them out –“

He glances at her usually-nimble hands, which are shaking. Alvin and Ian wail from behind the door of

the cabinet.

Victor takes two steps forward to stand in front of Evelyn. He digs his fingertips in behind the beveled

door of the cabinet, and then, with a roar, puts all his strength and weight behind those fingers as he

yanks the door free, shattering both the door and the hinges.

Ian and Alvin let out a yell, stumbling forward out of the cabinet and collapsing on the floor next to their

mother. Their faces are red, lined with sweat from being trapped in the enclosed space.

Ian sobs, his breath hitching as he stares around the room, trying to put things together. Alvin merely

cries, an unyielding wail, and crawls into his mother’s lap. She wraps him in a hug, rocking him back

and forth, shushing and calming him as best she can.

Ian’s lips lift in a snarl and, in this moment, the similarities between him and his father have never been

clearer. He lifts one small hand, its finger pointing directly at Amelia.

“It was her,” he growls. “She locked us in!”