Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 243 – Negotiations

“Thief!” Walsh snarls, pounding his fist again on the plastic barrier. “You can’t take this from me –

everything I’ve built, everything I’ve worked for –“

Victor tugs Ian’s hand and the boy snaps his worried eyes back up to his father, who looks down at him

calmly.

“Enough of this for you,” Victor says softly, looking steadily into Ian’s eyes and letting him know with his

tranquility that he’s still in full control. “Why don’t you go with the Beta and wait in the entrance hall?

Maybe they’ll give you some jail food to eat, so you can see what it’s like.”

Ian nervously nods, looking again between his father and grandfather as a Beta comes forward to take

his hand. He goes with the Beta readily, though, and Victor turns his attention back to Walsh after Ian

leaves the room and the lock clicks again.

“Quite a display you’re putting on for your grandchild,” Victor sighs, crossing his arms. “One would think

that you’d like him to respect you, but to each his own, I suppose.”

“How dare you –“

“Enough,” Victor snaps again, glaring at the man behind the wall. “It’s done, Walsh, and there’s nothing

you can do to change it. What we need to decide now is how long you stay in this cell. Because believe

me when I say that I have the funds to ensure that you spend the rest of your life in here. But, there are

reasons why I might reconsider such a sentence.”

Walsh leans back for a moment, crossing his arms as he senses the opportunity to regain some power.

“You need something from me.”

“No,” Victor counters, giving a sharp shake of his head. “I need nothing from you. But there are people

in my life to whom you are significant.”

Walsh takes a minute, blinking, and then begins to scowl. “Evelyn.”

Victor nods slowly, confirming his suspicion. “I won’t keep her father locked up for years if she does not

wish it. If you can agree to –“

Walsh slams on the glass again, rage on his face. “You would leave the question of my freedom to a

woman?”

Victor does not flinch. “To my Luna. Yes, I would.”

“You fool,” Walsh growls. “A Luna is nothing but –“

“It was your underestimation of your Luna,” Victor interrupts, his words harsh, “that resulted in your

losing your pack to begin with. I would caution you against making the same mistake twice.”

Walsh snarls but says nothing, raising his hand to the spot on his head where his wife hit him with her

favorite Tiffany lamp, rendering him unconscious.

Victor sighs, glancing at his watch. “Can I take this a rejection of my terms? That you do not agree to

live peacefully and release a statement that I am the unequivocal leader of your pack until my boys turn

eighteen?”

Walsh snaps his eyes back to Victor’s. “I would never –“

“Fine,” Victor sighs, leaning forward and pressing the green button again. Almost instantly the wall goes

white, blocking out sound as well as sight. Victor screws his mouth to the side, considering his options.

He glances at the two cells next to Walsh’s, where Joyce and Willard are each being held. But he

quickly decides against it, wanting suddenly to be home, to talk it over with Evelyn.

Decided, Victor strides towards the door, making eye contact with his Beta as he goes. “Inform the

other two,” he says sharply as the Beta opens the door. “Tell them that their packs are mine, that they

have no recourse. Ask them to consider the terms on which they would consent to be freed.”

The Beta nods and Victor strides from the room. Willard and Joyce don’t matter to him – both had

severely overplayed their hands, taking on the Kensington pack like that. They could rot the rest of his

lives away in those cell, for all Victor cared.

When Victor returns through the series of doors that separate the cells from the front office, Ian is

seated in a plain chair by the Beta desk, happily drinking a milkshake.

“Hello,” Victor says, smiling down at his boy and nodding to the Betas behind the desk. “Where did you

get that?”

“From the Betas!” Ian exclaims, happy. “It’s prison food.”

Victor quirks an eye at the head man in charge. “The prisoners get milkshakes?”

“From our own supply, sir,” the Beta says anxiously, giving a hesitant little smile. “We didn’t think he’d

like a microwaved chicken patty.”

Victor smiles and nods to them, letting them know he approves. The Betas smile back.

“Come on, kid,” Victor says, putting a hand out for Ian, who hops down from the chair and takes it.

“We’re all finished here.”

“Okay,” Ian says, shrugging and looking towards the door. “Can we come back tomorrow?”

Victor laughs as they head out into the bright sunshine. “Nah, we’re going to give grandpa a little time

to think about our offer.”

“Good plan,” Ian nods, swinging their joined hand as the Betas waiting by the car open the doors for

them. Then, after a pause, Ian looks up into his dad’s face. “What do you think mommy and Alvin are

getting up to?”

“Knowing your mom?” Victor considers, c*****g his head as he watches his son run to the far side of

the car and be lifted into the front seat by the waiting Beta. “Nothing but trouble.”

“Cool,” Ian says passively, consenting to be buckled in by the Beta while Victor climbs into the driver’s

seat. “Let’s go find them. I like trouble.”

_______________________

Alvin and I pull up to cabin that I rented with Emma and Delia before the battle at my father’s house

and I bite my lip, wondering at the silence that greets me. Of course, I don’t expect it to be bouncing

with activity, but…

It’s just so quiet and still here. Everything looks untouched. Even my old blue sedan is sitting quietly in

the driveway, covered with fallen leaves. Passively, I wonder if the thousands of dollars in cash that I

took out of the bank are still stacked neatly in the trunk.

“Is this where Aunt Bridgette lives?” Alvin asks, curious, unbuckling his seatbelt and looking around.

“It’s pretty here.”

“Not lives,” I murmur, freeing my own belt and opening my door. “But staying, for a while.” I step out of

the car, listening for any signs of life.

Nothing.

Alvin runs around to my side of the car as I shut my door, taking my hand. Together, we walk up the

neat steps to the front door, looking around as we go.

“It’s very quiet here, mama,” Alvin whispers, as if not wanting to disrupt the peace of the place.

“I know,” I whisper back, my concentration on the door ahead of me. Slowly, we approach, and I reach

out to the handle. When I twist it, it turns with no hesitation. I look down at Alvin and shrug, pushing the

door open.

We peek through the door, but see no movement in the kitchen and large living room.

“Hello?” I call, hesitant. “Anyone here?”

There’s silence and Alvin looks up to me, his eyes suddenly worried.

Suddenly, both of our heads snap back towards the room when we hear a click from inside the room. I

gasp when I see it and am instantly in motion, grabbing my son to me and spinning him away from the

door –

We move fast and definitively away from the aim of the shotgun barrel that’s pointed directly at us.