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…

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

to make a plan, has to do something. He had heard Joyce back in the room. Part of him – some strange, ever-attentive part – had been listening even as he’d suffered

said that the Walsh forces still held the house, and that was true. But not for long. Victor had left enough of

be coming. He would be coming at any moment, to break through the final pieces

look on Joyce and Walsh’s faces

thinks, a bitter smile coming to his lips. That,

and Victor opens his eyes, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. He’s laying on the cement floor of some kind of cell. He looks around, seeing stone walls ahead of him,

– yes, that lined 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 the events

pass out, at

coming from, but the movement is agony. He gives a sharp gasp and a little cry and then stops moving. The pain abates,

to slow his breathing so that he can hear over the ragged sound it

he’s sure – two sets in boots, and then another set,

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

groaning as it twinges the muscles

of old hinges swinging open. The sound of a body

not saying another word as their footsteps fade

of her bars, meaning she’s pressed herself up against her door. “Play chopsticks one last time, or whatever it is you like to do with your

bites his lip, working

he hears her

falling on him for the first time. “Victor!” She

Alive?

again and takes as deep

he says, the word light against his

from her in relief and he hears her moving around, the bars of her door clanging