Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 131 – True Luna

“God damnit, f*****g Rafe,” Evelyn murmurs, shooting a dirty look at the man whimpering on the

ground. She hurries to the tree from which Victor hangs, looking all around it for the base of the snare.

As she looks, though, she considers the possibilities – even if she releases him, Victor is just going to

plunge to the ground, falling right onto the hard ground. She grits her teeth, trying to figure out the best

plan as she finally locates the end of the snare at the base of the tree.

Then, determined, she goes to where Rafe is laying on the ground crying and grips him firmly by the

ankle. Putting her entire weight into it, she slowly, painstakingly begins to drag him across the forest

floor.

He cries out as she does so, but she doesn’t know if he even knows what’s going on, he’s so

consumed by the wolfsbane. When he’s settled neatly below Victor, Evelyn puts one hand behind

Victor’s neck and the other behind his shoulders, pushing, lifting, to try to get his head higher in the air.

She’s got to let some of the blood flow down to the rest of his body.

Her arms tremble first as she holds Victor up above her, and then her legs, her core. She grits her

teeth, praying as she holds him up, cursing these stupid Alphas for their stupid war games. She’d give

anything to be warm at home in her little cottage, curled up with a book and a nice glass of wine.

Fucking. Alphas.

Then, suddenly, she hears Victor gasp out a moan. She whispers a little apology before letting him

hang down again, her arms almost giving out.

“Ev-Evelyn?” He asks, still unclear.

“Victor,” she says, putting her hands on her knees so she can catch her breath. “I need you to curl up.

I’m going to let you down.” Her words start to come between pants of breath. “I don’t want. You. To fall.

On. Your stupid. Head.”

Victor blinks at her, dazed, and then nods and tightens his core, curling his head, neck, and shoulders

upwards so that, when he does fall, he’ll take the blow on his upper back.

Not the best plan, but…well, at least she got a cushion beneath him.

Evelyn moves to the tree as fast as she can, her deft fingers working at the mechanism that holds the

snare. Suddenly it snaps, the wire ripping through it, and Evelyn jumps back away from it. At the same

time she hears a whirring, a thump, a groan, and a scream of pain.

She hurries from behind the tree to where Victor and Rafe are laying in a heap on the ground.

“Victor,” she says, skidding to her knees next to him, hoping, desperately, that he was the groan and

not the scream. “Are you okay?”

Victor groans and Evelyn is relieved to hear that the sound echoes the last groan she just heard.

Slowly, he moves his shoulders, stretching his neck. She helps to move him, then, so that he’s laying

flat on his back a few feet away from Rafe as he slowly blinks, the blood rushing back to the rest of his

body.

Evelyn takes deep breaths, waiting, looking both men over as Victor comes back to himself. Rafe

continues to moan and writhe, his hands now also going to his chest and stomach which, Evelyn

grimaces to see, is somehow…flatter? Maybe? Than it was before? She wonders if Victor broke some

of his ribs when he fell on him.

She narrows her eyes, not scolding herself one bit. Rafe deserves worse than a few broken ribs, in her

opinion.

Then, Evelyn’s eyes turn to Victor and she breathes out a breath of relief to see that he’s largely

unscathed, except for the wire wrapped around an ankle that turns to the left at an angle that’s just a

little off. She goes pale to see it but does her best to steel herself.

A broken ankle is fine. For everything that was at stake tonight, a broken ankle is a fine price to pay.

Victor’s consciousness seems to come back to him all at once. His eyes focus on Evelyn and he moves

upwards with a jolt, but she puts her hands on his shoulders.

“No,” she says, “lay down, just for a little bit. We’re safe, you’re safe here. There’s time – it’s all over.”

“Rafe,” he murmurs, looking to his brother at his left.

“He’s a dirty rat,” Evelyn says, angry, “but he’ll live.”

“You,” Victor says, focusing on her as he lays in the snow. He lifts a hand to place it on the side of her

face. “You saved me. Came to my rescue.”

Evelyn leans into the touch of his hand like a cat being scratched. “Just returning the favor.”

Victor huffs a little laugh, then, and closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

Evelyn does the same, suddenly realizing how cold she is. She’s wearing a coat, of course, but she’s

still kneeling in the snow next to Victor just in jeans and sneakers. She starts to shiver.

Victor feels her start to shake and opens his eyes, looking at her with concern. “Come here,” he

murmurs, moving his hand to her shoulder, pulling her down on top of him.

Evelyn obeys, laying her body over top of Victor’s own, curling close to his warmth, eager to get away

from the snow. He wraps his arms around her and holds her close. “We’ve got to get you back to

camp,” he murmurs, chaffing her arms.

“We’ve got to get you back to camp,” she replies, resting her head on his chest. “You’re the wounded

one.”

“I could lay here all night,” he replies, taking a minute to breathe deeply, wanting – absurdly – to stay

here with her, rather than face his family and have the fight he knew was coming. “My clothes were

built to withstand temperatures lower than this.”

“Well,” she says, laughing despite herself. “Not all of us came dressed to play in the snow tonight.”

He laughs with her and then falls silent for a second. “Rafe cheated,” he murmurs to her. “He tricked

me – I fell for the snare, he got me there – but he broke the rules. He was never on the field –”

“I know,” she says quietly and his body goes still with surprise.

“How did you know?” He asks, raising himself up on his elbows to look at her.

“Your sons,” she says, tucking a fist under her chin, still resting against his chest and looking up at him

with her warm brown eyes. “They were very disobedient little wolves tonight. They snuck out into the

forest and apparently saw the whole thing. They figured out, I think, before you did that Rafe wasn’t

there. They came running back to camp and told us all everything.”

Victor laughs, delighted and surprised, letting his head fall back. “Good boys,” he says, looking up

between the trees and shaking his head in wonder.

“No,” Evelyn says, smacking his arm.

Victor winces, “Come on, Evie, I’m wounded here,” he jokes, his voice still cheerful.

“I’ll hit you again, if you deserve it,” she murmurs, her voice serious. “Victor, they could have been hurt.”

He nods, understanding. “I know. You’re right, Evelyn.” He feels her nod against his chest.

Still, within himself, he’s grateful for his two brave boys. Their actions tonight, disobedient as they were,

may have saved his pack. Quietly, he looks at Evelyn, realizing that the future will be hard for her.

Her sons are Alpha wolves, the heirs to two major packs. They would have lives full of danger, of

intrigue, of constantly having to defeat threats to their power. It was a life to which he has long been

accustomed but…

…as their mother, Evelyn’s instinct will always be to protect them. A good instinct, he knows, but one

which might cause her to hold them back from vital training which could save their lives.

Tonight, the boys acted like the Alpha wolves they are. They took the steps they deemed necessary to

protect their power, to save their pack. But Evelyn wanted them to still be her little boys, tucked safe in

bed. And Victor knew that they very much still were her two little boys.

He lets out a soft sigh, running his fingers through her silky hair, his touch communicating to her his

understanding, his love, his gratitude for her, for the boys, for the wonderful gift of their family.

“I love you too,” she murmurs into his chest, and he smiles, his heart filling. “We make a good team, the

four of us.”

“We do,” he replies, continuing to run his fingers through her hair.

“You know,” she says after a moment, her voice low and slow. “This would be really romantic, if it

weren’t occurring next to the whimpering body of your fallen brother,” she says, raising her head to

consider Rafe. “And if I wasn’t frozen to the bone.”

“I know,” he says, sighing and sitting up, holding her close as he does so. “I’m sorry about that. Let’s

get you back to camp.”

“Okay,” she says, taking his face lightly in her hands and placing a simple kiss on his lips. “I want

another glass of wine, after all this.”

He laughs lightly against her mouth, shaking his head. “Sure, Evelyn. Whatever you want.”

With that, the two stand. Then, hand in hand, they head back to camp, Victor leaning on her and

limping to keep his weight off of his wounded ankle.

A big decision awaited them there. Whose side would Henry take in the fight for the pack?