Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 181 – From the Sky

Victor leads his forces on foot, but overhead, his aerial forces begin their attack. They swoop low

overhead, the chopping of helicopter blades and the hum of small-aircraft engines covering the

pounding of feet as Victor’s ground forces plunge ahead.

He watches the skies carefully as his troops pick up speed, wanting to ensure that his aerial forces are

following their instructions precisely.

Victor knows, from his reconnaissance, that Walsh and Willard have no aerial forces of their own – in

the trade for Evelyn, Victor had traded Willard only ground troops, no special forces.

It’s a significant advantage that Victor has, even with his lesser numbers. His enemies are largely on

foot and the majority of them are massed ahead, waiting for Victor’s ground forces to reach them.

The enemy forces have an advantage there too, though – they make no move as Victor’s forces come

forward, willing to hold their position close to the barracks so that Victor’s forces can exhaust

themselves on the assault, and so that they have a convenient wall to retreat

But, until that clash can happen, Victors helicopters and planes have the opportunity to do their

damage.

They swoop ahead, almost completely unimpeded except for some gunfire from below, which does

nothing to stop them. When they reach the back of the barracks, the helicopters begin to drop bombs.

Victor watches them fall through the air like tiny black seeds that fall from the heavens and then bloom

into flames below.

He grimaces a little, knowing that death comes with each bomb, hating it. He regrets every death that

comes at his hand, especially since he knows that men that he trained, his own former Betas, might be

catching the brunt of it.

But the bombs that he ordered to be dropped – they’re strategically placed to take out areas of Walsh’s

encampment that his spies had already marked as weapons caches, as offices and supply centers.

Victor seeks, as much as he can, to spare lives and instead cripple Walsh’s forces.

This is, after all, an attempted takeover. Victor seeks to take this pack as his own, for his children as

well as the good of all of the packs in their political circle. Walsh and Willard are to greedy – seeking

power for their own good.

If he wins, Victor hopes – truthfully – to bring peace to his people. To build resources like the school to

help them grow and prosper. Not simply to build his own coffers.

After the helicopters swoop away, their damage done, the small-engine planes come in quick behind

them. Victor smirks here, excited to see this next weapon at work.

His Betas had questioned him at first, when he had ordered – months ago – the purchase of about a

dozen small aircraft usually used for farm work, for the survey of fields and crop dusting. But when

they’d heard his plan, they’d eagerly agreed and got to work on the mechanics of Victor’s new weapon.

Just as the planes swoop past the first line Victor skids to a stop, holding up one hand and shouting

“HOLD!” at the top of his voice.

His Betas, prepared for this command, respond instantly. They all drop to one knee, turning their backs

towards the enemy forces, crouching forward and pulling hoods over their heads, breathing masks

down over their faces.

Victor does the same, turning his face away just as he sees the aircrafts open their bellies, dropping

gallons and gallons of liquid wolfsbane onto the enemy forces. He has to turn his face away, to breathe

into the apparatus built into his waterproof hood for just a moment to avoid any wolfsbane carried on

droplets in the air.

But he knows that his weapon has worked when he hears the combined shrieking of hundreds of

enemy Betas, who have fallen, incapacitated by their pain, to the ground.

His scientists had told him that he needed two minutes to ensure that the air would be safe to breathe,

so Victor counts quietly to one hundred and twenty, his eyes pressed closed.

It is, potentially, the two most intense minutes of his life as he waits for the seconds to pass.

Here he is, crouched on the battlefield, his back turned to his enemy, completely blind – completely

vulnerable, really, to whatever weapon they may have up their own sleeve.

He’s done good work to dress like his Betas, to disguise himself in their ranks, but still – it’s a gamble.

He’s hoping that for two minutes, until the wolfsbane clears from the air, that Walsh and Willard will be

scrambling to regroup their forces, to push those untouched to the front of the line, to reprepare their

attack.

It’s two free minutes, really, to let Walsh and Willard do whatever they want.

Anything could happen in this time.

A bullet could come, strike him between his shoulders –

Anything could be happening outside, too – Victor could open his eyes to see that his own army had

been wiped out –

Or he could turn to see some insane weapon pointed right at him, the moment he pulls back his hood

and open his eyes.

Victor’s heart races as he pants, the alarm on his oxygen unit letting him know that there’s only 30

seconds left.

Good. Each of his men have carried precisely two minutes worth of oxygen with them. When the tiny

tanks run out – just twenty seconds from now – they will turn, as one, to meet their fates.

His mind races, filled with anxiety.

Ten seconds now.

Five.

When the alarm beeps, Victor rips the mask from his face and from his body armor, dropping it to the

ground and turning, in one swift movement, to face his enemy.

At the very same moment, over the hill, in the bowls of the big house, Evelyn sits stock straight on the

her little prison bench, hearing the pounding of Beta feet coming into the basement.

She listens, her heartrate ratcheting up, as they storm towards her cell.

Without a word, the Beta in the lead twists the key in the ancient lock and then comes forward,

grabbing her by the arm.

Evelyn has no idea where they intend to take her – no idea if it’s where she wants to go – but

instinctually, she knows she doesn’t want to go anywhere under their power.

“No!” She screams, pushing on the Beta’s chest, refusing to be taken without a fight. “Take your damn

hands off of me!”

Two more Betas come forward, one grabbing her other arm, one shoving her from behind. She can’t

resist them all and is dragged from the cell, towards the stairs. Though she knows it’s futile, Evelyn

fights anyway – determined to make this as hard for them as she can.

Evelyn bites, kicks, pulling her arms, forcing them to drag her along every step.

“This will go easier on you,” one of the Beta growls, “if you just let us do our job.”

“It will go easier on you,” Evelyn growls, her canines fully elongated, “if you get the f**k off of me!”

He growls down into her face, then, and Evelyn can tell he’s one of her father’s men – a nasty, cruel

sort of Beta raised to believe that because he’s big and strong – and because she’s just a little woman

– she should do as he says.

She can also tell that her defiance riles him, that he wants to hit her. That the only thing holding him

back is his allegiance to his Alpha, her father.

“Go ahead,” she sneers at him. “Lean into your baser instincts, you pig. Hit me, my dad won’t care. And

when my Alpha takes over this pack? You’re dead.”

She sees him process this information quickly, a snarl thick on his lips, but –

He pulls away. He doesn’t.

She laughs, then, as they drag her through the house and out the door to a waiting truck.

She knows, then, that her father’s Betas are afraid. That this cruel Beta didn’t hit her because he’s

afraid. It’s not a fear of her father that stops him – her father, they both know, wouldn’t care if Evelyn

has a few more bruises the next time he sees her.

But Victor? This Beta knows, on some level, that Victor has a very good chance of winning. And that

he’ll have to explain those bruises to him.

Evelyn’s a little smug as the Betas throw her into the back of the Jeep. She knows she shouldn’t feel it,

that she should be scared.

But deep down? She has every confidence that Victor will win this war.