Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 190 – Sand in the Hourglass

When Victor opens his eyes, there are spots in his vision. He blinks, trying to get them to clear, but then groans with the effort.

God, does it seriously hurt to blink?

But then he realizes that it’s not the blinking that’s causing the pain – that the pain was there already. It comes, sharply, with every breath, with every beat of his heart, which he can feel pounding in his head and his chest and his veins.

Victor groans again, turning his head to the side, pressing his eyes closed – doing anything he can to fight against the pain – anything he can to lessen it, ignore it, move on from it –

But he can’t – it’s there, in every piece of him. Taking over his body, his mind.

Victor tries to breathe more slowly, to pull the breath in through his nose and out of his mouth, to form thoughts around the pain, or through it –

But god damnit, it’s everywhere. All encompassing.

He grits his teeth, but can’t help the whimper that escapes through the tiny spaces left between them.

God, is this what it feels like to die? Is that what’s happening here?

He hears the whimper again, knowing that it’s him, but somehow – bizarrely – distanced from it. Is he dying?

If he is, then part of him wishes that he would just go ahead and do it already. Because this pain, radiating throughout his body and centering itself, sharply, high in his back, just to the left of his spine – the pain is just too much.

No, he thinks, clenching his jaw tighter, finally getting a clear word into his head. No.

He can’t give into this. Not now, not when he’s come so far –

Not when…

to having them all back. He wouldn’t give in now. There was still so, so much

had heard Joyce back in the room. Part of him – some strange, ever-attentive

Victor had left enough of his Beta army outside that

commands were strong, his Betas were prepared. Rafe was at their head, and he would be coming. He would be coming at any moment, to break through the final pieces of Walsh’s control

Victor was going to die before he got to see the look on Joyce

thinks, a bitter smile coming to his lips. That, alone, would be worth

bearing on his surroundings. He’s laying on the cement floor of some kind of cell. He looks around,

up with what his Betas had learned about Walsh’s house, with what Joyce had said upstairs. But Joyce’s words had been fuzzy – Victor can barely remember the tail end of

he really did pass out, at the end. He

see behind him where the noise is coming from, but the movement is agony. He gives a sharp gasp and a little cry

breathing so that he can hear over the ragged sound it

him, three sets, he’s sure – two

sound of her voice. “Get your god damn hands off of me, or I swear to god, when we take this pack I will

single laugh that echos through him, but he regrets it, groaning as it

the creak of old

not saying another word as their footsteps fade

she calls after them, and he hears the slight clang of her bars, meaning she’s pressed herself up against her door. “Play chopsticks one last time, or whatever it

lip, working

he hears

him for the first time. “Victor!” She says it louder now, calling to him.

Alive?

eyes again and takes

word light against his

of her door clanging as she shakes them, trying to find any weakness, trying to get to him. “Victor –