Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 179 – Closing in on the Pack

Victor and Alvin sit quietly in the hummer, their eyes focused on the foliage in front of them. Just

through it, they can begin to see the start of a field, the place where Victor intends to hold the battle.

Alvin sits next to his father, quietly chewing on a granola bar, patiently waiting for the next steps. Victor

glances at him, impressed, passively, by his ability to sit and wait. He smiles, considering that a good

soldier needs many skills, but patience is certainly one of them.

“Alvin,” he says quietly. “When this all…starts. I want you on the back line. And I want your promise that

you will stay there, no matter what happens. Stay with the Beta to whom I assign you. All right?”

Alvin looks up at him and gives a brisk nod, surprising Victor again. He had expected more pushback

from that.

Victor reaches out a hand and puts it on his son’s shoulder. “Or, if you want,” he says quietly. “You can

stay here, in the car. And wait. It’s going to be…well, it will not all be fun, what happens on that

battlefield today. You won’t be in any danger, on the back line. But there’s no reason you have to see it,

if you don’t want to.”

Alvin holds his gaze steadily. “I want to see it, papa. All of it. This is my pack too.”

Victor nods, understanding, but inwardly he feels guilt. Perhaps he should have insisted that Alvin stay

home with Bridgette and Burton – he’s just a child.

But then, Victor recalls Alvin’s words from earlier. He’s not just a kid – he’s an Alpha as well. Victor

knows that perhaps more than anyone, being shoved into the position of leading a pack when he was

far too young for the job.

Victor sighs, a little, wondering if this was all a mistake – perhaps he should have let Evelyn go, that

day at the Quiz competition, let the boys have a normal life, where they wouldn’t be on a battlefield at

age six –

The radio on his shoulder blares, interrupting his thoughts –

“Sir,” he voice says, frantic. “We’ve been detected – Walsh’s forces are aware that the left flank – at

least the left flank is here – it’s only a matter of time –“

There’s a little disturbance, and then another voice comes on the line –

“Sir,” another Beta says, “we have to move. Now.”

“s**t,” Victor murmurs, and then reaches up to the radio on his shoulder to respond. “Copy,” he replies,

“All forces, move out.”

He turns to Alvin then, whose face is gone a little pale. “You ready, kid?” Victor asks, revving the car’s

engine. Alvin nods, stoic, and looks out the windshield. He is ready.

Then, without another word, Victor presses his foot on the gas and the car moves forward into the

meadow in front of them. All around them, Alvin can see other hummers likewise engaging, moving

forward.

Victor’s forces have encircled Walsh’s property and, at this moment, are moving inward, tightening

around Walsh like a noose.

If all goes as planned, Walsh and his forces will be trapped.

The Betas herd Mrs. Walsh, Emma, Delia, and Ian back upstairs. They move them into the dining

room, which is full of other Betas, snapping the shutters shut and ensuring that all of the doors are

locked. Ian looks around at them, watching them work, noting that the shutters are made of metal – not

wood, as he originally thought – and shut out the light completely when closed.

“What is happening,” Mrs. Walsh demands of a Beta as he leads her by the arm to a chair by the

fireplace.

“We’ve been asked to take you here, ma’am,” the Beta says. “This room has been retrofitted as a

saferoom, where you cannot be harmed or taken in the event of a siege.”

“What!?” Mrs. Walsh exclaims, looking around in panic now. “A siege?!”

Emma and Delia glance at each other, Emma pulling Ian close to her as they, too, stand by the

fireplace. Looks like they really did come at the wrong time.

Before the Beta can respond, though, Walsh and Willard sweep into the room.

“Yes, Betty,” Walsh says, walking over to his wife, Willard at his heels. “We are at war. That upstart,

Kensington – he’s surrounded our lands.”

Mrs. Walsh gasps, pressing a hand to her heart.

Walsh’s eyes move to Emma, then, sweeping over her. “You’re back,” I see, he says, a bit of a sneer in

his voice. “Conveniently timed. And where is your husband?”

Emma blinks a moment and then remembers that, of course, she’s supposed to have just come back

from vacation. “I have no idea where my husband is,” she says, frowning at him. “I left him here with

you.”

Walsh looks away from her, dismissing her, his eyes flitting impassively over Delia and Ian before

nodding to the Betas, who finish their job of securing the room.

“The four of you,” Walsh says decisively, “will stay in this room until I give word that you may come out.

The bathroom is available to you,” he says, gesturing towards door at the back corner of the room, “and

food will be brought to you at my discretion. There are also supplies there,” he says, pointing towards a

corner where – indeed – Emma sees boxes full of food and bottled water.

With that, Walsh and Willard move to leave the room.

“Wait,” Emma calls after, him, angry. “Are you serious? We’re just supposed to sit here, your prisoners,

while you have a battle in the back yard?”

Walsh frowns at her, his hand on the door. “You are no a prisoner, Emma. You are my property. I am

merely protecting you.”

Delia’s mouth falls open as the two Alphas leave the room, but Emma barely blinks. It’s nothing she

hasn’t heard before.

The room is suddenly very quiet, with all of the Betas gone. The four can still hear people rushing

around in the hallways and, from the windows, can begin to hear the thump and yells of a great deal of

movement outside.

“Ian, darling,” Mrs. Walsh says, holding out a hand for her grandson. He takes her hand and she pulls

him closer. “Are you all right? I know this must be frightening for you.”

Ian frowns at the door through which his grandfather left. “I can’t believe he didn’t take me with him,” he

says, angry. Mrs. Walsh frowns at him, confused.

Ian turns his face to her, crossing his arms angrily across his chest. “If I was with my daddy, he would

let me watch.”

Mrs. Walsh laughs a little at him, trying to keep it light. “I sincerely doubt that, my boy. You are safe in

here – it is better for little boys to stay inside on days like this.”

Ian doesn’t respond, but he knows she is wrong. Alvin already sent him a picture from the field, with all

of the cars and Betas starting to get into lines, with the helicopters starting to rally overhead. Alvin was

having all the fun.

Angry, Emma storms towards the door, trying the handle. “I can’t believe it,” she murmurs, walking back

to the group. “He honestly just locked us all in here, like we really are his precious goods he’s keeping

out of the looters’ hands.”

“It is safe here,” Mrs. Walsh says, her voice pleading. “Do you honestly want to be out there?”

“Mom,” Emma says, crossing her arms. “Don’t you see how he treats us? Treats you? We’re not

property – we’re people. Quite frankly, the two of us have been locked in loveless marriages for far to

long, forced to sell our freedom to these men. I, for one, am not going to do it anymore.”

Emma’s mother’s eyes go wide and she shakes her head slowly. “You shouldn’t say such things,

Emma. They’re treasonous. Your father…Joyce…they would not like it.”

“Screw what they like, mom,” Emma says, glaring at the locked door. Then, she makes a decision.

“Evelyn and I are taking over this pack,” she says, turning her steady gaze to her mother, who gasps.

“We’re overthrowing dad, and Joyce, and we’re taking control of it for ourselves.”

Mrs. Walsh covers her mouth with her hands, horrified.

“And you mom,” Emma says, stern. “You should join us.”