Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 129 – Last Stand

The battle is drawing close, now.

Seeing that they had a slight advantage, only two men down as opposed to Rafe’s five, Victor had

pressed into the offensive. Even if Rafe had set a trap ahead, his superior numbers should work in his

favor.

Victor and his Betas had moved swiftly through the forest, spaced well within the trees, their rifles held

at shoulder height, their eyes pressed to their scopes, searching.

They found Rafe’s troops all gathered together like rabbits in a warren.

Rafe’s troops were entrenched. They had found a well-protected area of forest with a stone wall rising

behind them and several boulders on either side, perfect for hiding and sniping. Victor did a swift count

as he approached – six. Good.

Rafe had collected his entire Beta team together for one final showdown, one last stand. There would

be no more scouting and retreating after this; instead, Rafe had put all his eggs in one basket.

This was his alamo.

Victor’s face lights in a feral grin. Good.

Still hidden yards away out of sight from Rafe’s troupes, Victor quickly checks in with his two remaining

captains. Swiftly, they confirm their positions, and agree to their route. They nod to each other from

across the forest and then, as one, they charge.

They have the element of surprise, but not for long. Rafe’s troupes hesitate only for a minute before

they begin to fire.

Two of Victor’s fastest Betas sprint forward, their guns strapped to their backs, knives in their hands,

running for the protected area behind the boulders where their enemies are ensconced. If they can get

in, they’ll do swift damage to Rafe’s troupes.

The other five members of Victor’s party move steadily behind, their fingers on their triggers, pumping

wolfbane-coated rubber bullets into the encampment whenever they have the opportunity.

Victor grits his teeth as he moves forward, taking the furthest position in the line, the most protected

spot. He grimaces as he sees one of his runners fall, shrieking, to the ground – felled by an enemy

bullet before he can get behind the enemy line. The other takes a final leap and disappears behind the

boulder.

Victor listens above the sound of gunshots and hears yells and shrieks from the enemy encampment –

good, the scout has done his work. Still, enemy guns are being fired. Victor hadn’t been lucky enough

to take them all out with one forward runner, and that man, he knows, was surely taken down.

Hopefully he took out enough of the enemy to make his sacrifice worth it.

Victor steadily stalks forward, wishing he had an updated count. How many men does Rafe have left?

He sees shots from at least three guns, one of which must belong to Rafe. If his forward man had taken

Rafe out, the others would have stopped shooting.

The trial is still not at an end.

Victor’s head whips to the side when he sees two of his own men fall, one after the other. They scream

in pain, their cries echoing through the forest, but, quickly, they press their mouths shut, doing their

very best to suffer in silence. Good, Victor thinks. They’re well trained and know that their cries will

distract their comrades.

Six, Victor thinks, pressing ever forward. He’s almost at the boulders himself now. Almost ready to

switch weapons from this assault rifle to a pistol, which will be better in close quarters.

Before he can switch, though, Rafe’s men are ready for him. A hand appears above the boulders,

lobbing something in the air towards Victor and his men –

Only Victor’s years of military training prevent him from panicking. “MOVE!” He yells and, on command,

his Betas scatter –

The object flies through the air as Victor works to move backward – a grenade – how the hell did Rafe

get his hands on a lethal weapon –

But when the object lands on the ground, it doesn’t explode into shards of metal and fire, as Victor had

expected. Instead, it bursts into a blinding light.

Victor and his men flinch back, covering their eyes, which had long been adjusted to the darkness of

the night.

A flash grenade. They hadn’t agreed to these as part of the weaponry arsenal, or else Victor would

have used one as part of his own assault. He grits his teeth, blinking as the light fades, his eyes still

stinging. Rafe is playing dirty again.

Victor fights the panic rising in him as he waits for his eyes to adjust again to the darkness. For a

moment, though, he is blind, and he knows his men are too. Rafe, surely, is taking advantage of this.

Sure enough, Victor hears two of his Betas scream as they’re hit by some kind of wolfbane weapon.

Victor moves into a tactical retreat, scanning the shadows of the forest that are slowly coming back into

the focus, moving behind a tree to see if he can get a better layout of the battle as it now stands.

Four, he thinks, four men left, plus me. Against how many? Three? Four of his?

Victor looks out from behind the tree to see his Betas locked into battle with Rafe’s troupes. Bullets fly

through the air, knives flash. Victor raises his own rifle to his shoulder, stepping out into the open air,

pressing his finger to the trigger again and again – sending his own bullets judiciously into the fray –

His bullets find their places, one after another.

Bam, another of Rafe’s Betas down.

He hears the shriek of one of his men as he falls. Victor presses forward, taking careful aim. From the

corner of his eyes, he sees two more of his men writhing on the ground. s**t, only one man left.

Bam bam. Another of Rafe’s takes two bullets in the shoulder. He falls, screaming in pain.

Rafe has one man left, Victor knows, according to his count, in addition to Rafe himself, but only one

man stands panting in front of him.

Victor presses his trigger finger as the man raises his gun in his direction, but the man falls and bursts

into screams.

All of Rafe’s Betas down. But where the hell was Rafe?

Victor flicks his attention to the boulders to see if Rafe is hiding there. Victor’s final remaining Beta is

already there, sweeping the protected area, looking for the final man –

Bam. Victor’s final Beta’s head jerks back as he screams, his body jolting, a rubber bullet hitting him

directly in the chest. Victor’s body launches into a sprint, his instincts on over-drive, as a figure in black

leaps from behind a boulder and runs further into the wood.

Rafe, Victor thinks, picking up speed as he gives himself over to the chase.

It’s just the two of them now, brother against brother.

As he runs, Victor slings his rifle over his back – he’s going too fast, now, to give it the careful aim that

it needs. He picks up speed, reaching down to his thigh to where his pistol is strapped, unhooking it as

he goes.

His opponent is fast – faster than Victor remembers Rafe being. He must have been training. But Victor

is still faster. Steadily gaining on him, Victor raises his pistol, ready to take a shot. As he aims, his

quarry trips –

Actually trips –

Sprawling to the ground – god, Victor thinks, it’s almost too easy –

Victor closes the distance between them – just ten feet now, and presses the trigger on the gun,

sending three bullets directly into the figure sprawled before him. The man shrieks, a pitiful sound, and

Victor closes the distance, reaching down to pull the ski mask off of his face – to confront his brother,

finally –

But when his foot presses down on a neat pile of pine sticks, Victor feels something tighten around his

ankle.

Suddenly, he is airborne, dragged by his ankle up into the sky. He yells, in shock, in pain, as he feels

something in his ankle twist, the bones grinding against the ligaments in a way that feels wrong wrong

wrong.

His upward momentum halts, suddenly, and gravity takes over. Victor hangs upside down from the tree,

snarling like the trapped thing that he is.

“A snare?!” He yells. “A f*****g snare, Rafe? Are you kidding me?”

The figure on the ground writhes, moaning in pain.

“Let me down,” Victor yells. “I’ve already won! This is ridiculous!” But the man on the ground doesn’t

respond. Desperate, knowing there’s a chance that he’ll black out if he’s left hanging upside down like

this too long, Victor looks up to study the snare.

Wire, not rope – if it had been rope he could cut it – he gasps against the pain in his ankle, which feels

as if it could rip apart.

“Let me down Rafe!” He growls, increasingly desperate.

“I’m not…” the man on the ground says, and Victor’s eyes fly to him. That voice – it’s not what he had

expected –

“Please,” the Beta says, ripping the ski mask from his face. “I’m not Rafe. I’m sorry, sir, my orders are

to…to stay here. Until he comes.”

Victor narrows his eyes at the Beta, sealing his mouth shut.

Apparently, the game was still afoot. And the rules had changed.

A growl rumbles in Victor’s chest as he vows, silently, to rip Rafe limb from limb when he gets his

hands on him.

But before he can plan any further violence, he hears a sound in the distance. The quick clip of

helicopter blades slicing through the air.