Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 82 – Bachelorette

Victor doesn’t go home for dinner, though his text to Amelia suggested that he would. Instead, he stays at his club and keeps drinking.

It’s not normally in his nature to be drunk – Victor likes a clear head, solid control over his body. Besides, with his Alpha metabolism, it takes a great deal to get him drunk. Even that night on the couch with Evelyn, she had been giggling after three drinks and he had been nowhere close to as bad.

He had perhaps pretended he was, to himself as well as her, but while she could blame her actions that night on the wine…he had been damn near sober.

But today, Victor wants to be drunk. Wants to lose his mind to the whiskey, to release his worries to the wind, to be blissfully unaware, for a few hours, of what he’s doing.

Amelia hadn’t sent him any texts, but she did tag him in her social media, so he knew that she, likewise, was out having her Bachelorette party. They followed tradition in all things, of course, which in wolf culture means they’re held on the same night so that they could end in The Hunt.

It was early yet – his hadn’t even started – but Amelia already looked stunning in a short, fluffy pink dress made of what looked like miles of tulle. It made her tan legs look like they ran on for miles.

Victor flicks through the media but doesn’t leave any comments, hearts, or thumbs-up on any of it. He considers that her attendance of her bachelorette means she’s moving forward with things, and, according to her huge smile in all of her pictures, is apparently thrilled to do so.

The wedding was going forth as presumed, then. She had accepted his terms.

Victor slowly shakes his head and put his phone face-down on the bar, signaling the bartender for another drink. Even if she had accepted it, was pressing on to the wedding…it still didn’t feel right. Victor knows she has something else up her sleeve, and he hates the idea of not knowing what it was.

The bartender places another glass in front of him and Victor takes a hefty gulp from it, barely tasting the burning liquid.

Holding the half-empty glass up at eye level to stare at its contents, Victor considers the chess game that he’s found himself in the middle of. At the core of it, he knows that the thing he needs to protect is his children, his lineage.

His opponent in this game is not John Walsh, not really – Walsh is just a temporary distraction, an obstacle to overcome. Instead, the foe is, in many ways, the whole world out to take from Victor everything he has built – his wonderful life, his children. It’s a cruel, jealous world, Victor knows knows, eagerly waiting to rip everything from his hands. He has to fight against it.

one hand, his future with Amelia – this wonderful, ferocious, willful woman who

Walsh put this idea in his head, or was it

on an equally visceral level, that there is something there, as well. Something with Evelyn. He

his hand down his face. Ancient words? What is he thinking of? He stares into

slaps on his shoulder, making him

the face of his younger brother, Rafe. Rafe’s face is much like his own, but his eyes wilder, with purple bags beneath them. Though Rafe is two years his junior, in some ways

Rafe says, smirking at Victor. He signals the bar

knows well – friends, cousins, classmates from his years at school, old teammates from childhood sports. He can’t help but smile to see

hand still on Victor’s shoulder. “You all right, brother?

to put on a happy face. Well, if not a happy face – he rarely has that – a less worried one. Victor looks down at himself and realizes that he’s not

both grab their whiskeys and head towards

dressed fashionably in suits and laughing as they drink and pick at the hors devours passed around by a pair of pretty cocktail waitresses. Victor stands at the back of this pack, his Armani suit perfectly pressed, drinking

his brother, raising his own drink to his lips.

response. “This kind of tradition was

good naturedly. “What’s not to like, big brother? Whiskey, good times with the guys, and,” he nudges

turns his head to look at his brother – really look at him. In some ways, Rafe looks just like him – the genetic similarities run strong in his family. Rafe is also strongly built Alpha stock, with broad shoulders and

has always leaned into his role as the third son. With two brothers ahead of him to inherit the responsibilities of pack leadership, Rafe embraced the indulgences of life, with all the privileges of an Alpha and none of the responsibilities. Victor sips his drink, watching his brother laugh and wondering why he always resented Rafe for taking advantage of

so many great things, but he throws away his time on meaningless pleasures. Victor doesn’t know how

sounds at the back of the room. The collected men of the party begin to

his teeth – such a ridiculous tradition. He never would have agreed to