Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 182 – The Trump Card

Inside the house, Ian, Emma, and Delia jump when they hear the sound of the bombs.

Mrs. Walsh just sits still. It’s a sound she’s heard before, one she was expecting.

“Wha-” Ian says, his mouth open and his head turned towards the windows, wishing, desperately, that he could see out. “What was that?”

“Bombs, darling,” Mrs. Walsh says from her spot in her armchair by the unlit fire, her head resting back against the fabric, exhausted. “That is the sound of the battle beginning.”

Ian grimaces and Emma knows that he wishes, above all, that he could be there. Ian is a boy who needs to be in on the action – he will be absolutely restless until he feels that he’s at the center of it all, helping his side.

Keeping him here, safe and sound, is torture for him.

“Mom,” Emma says softly, turning her face to her mother, trying again. “This can’t seriously be what you want for your pack, for its future.”

Mrs. Walsh turns her face away, as she did before.

They had tried, earlier, to persuade her. To convince her that a pack with Emma and Evelyn at the head, instead of John and Joyce, would be the better choice for everyone. But she had simply sat down in that chair and not responded – not at all – to anything that Emma had to say.

Delia hadn’t said anything, had merely sat quietly on the sofa. She knows that it’s not her fight. Eventually, Emma had given up and went to sit with Delia. They had sat in silence until the sound of the bombs started.

Ian surprises them all, though, by going to sit in his grandmother’s lap.

She welcomes him there, wrapping her arms around him as he curls up with his head against her chest. She rests her chin on his head.

“Grandmama,” he says softly. “Why does my grandfather hate my dad so much? Why does he want to kill him?”

Her face goes pale at that and she looks down at her grandson. He’s clever enough, she knows, to realize that the two forces going at each other outside are, indeed, his father and his grandfather. So she can’t lie to him to make it any better.

think that’s his real intention, Ian,” she says softly. “I don’t think he wants

trying to take away the control?” Ian asks, looking up at her.

the aggressor in this situation – even if Victor is the one to come to the property, Walsh started this fight. “Your grandfather thinks that he will be better at leading the people than your father is. That he knows best, and

little bit of time. They’ll be combined anyway. This all seems…” Ian takes a moment, staring at the iron shutters over

voice very soft. “If people are going to get hurt, even die. When these packs are going to unite anyway, in

grandchild, surprised, and then stares at the wall in front of her for a long, quiet

the same way that his mother does. “Perhaps

of the wolfsbane smarts against his skin and his eyes as he blinks, surveying the

screaming, their hands going to their faces, their eyes, their backs arching in agony

the men will be grateful, in the end. He doesn’t know a single man among them that wouldn’t trade three days of pain for a swift death,

their foe. A few have fallen, writhing in agony themselves – likely those who hadn’t turned before the wind

of Walsh and Willard’s forces out for the count, the numbers

the situation, Victor opens his mouth

surge forward, picking up speed again as they hurtle

yards between Victor’s army and the enemies. His Betas have been ordered to take care – to go for a wound at every opportunity, instead of a kill. To press the advantage, but to be aware that they’re fighting amongst men who used to be their allies, who would be again, if Victor’s

or even machine guns to accurately shoot, and Walsh’s uninjured forces are scrambling to man the front lines. Victor’s smile deepens

just let Victor dash in and take over without a fight. He will have something up his sleeve, and Victor is on the lookout for it, prepared

activity just inside the chain-link fence surrounding a watch tower. Betas run all over it, swarming like ants, moving

concentrate on manning a watchtower

of

s**t.

is going to play his trump

then the sharp piercing noise of an amplifier being attached to a microphone. Several of Victor’s Betas wince but they don’t hesitate, moving forward as

voice booms from a gigantic speaker that swings to the front of the watch