Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

Chapter 261

#Chapter 261 – “Italy is Barely Europe”

About forty-five minutes later, the van pulls up to a chain-link gate at the airport. As the drivers stop the van to have a brief discussion with the guards, Amelia raises her eyes to glare steadily at Victor. He meets her eyes evenly, without emotion, and doesn’t break her gaze. She doesn’t intimidate him. Not for a moment.

Instead, he c***s his head to the side and considers her – this woman who had such power over him when they were together. This woman who could change his mind with a single touch, even a single steamy look, on some occasions. He feels guilty, suddenly – for his people, his children, for Evelyn – that he let her have that kind of control.

But even now, as he considers it, he realizes that Evelyn has that same control. That his attraction to her – his desire to be with her, near her, touching her nearly all the time – it supersedes what he had with Amelia. The only difference is that Evelyn would never do that.

He had always known that Amelia was selfish – didn’t mind it, even. But now, looking at her bound and gagged in the back of this van, rage all over her face and in her eyes…Victor realizes that she really did only ever care about herself. That she loved him, but that she loved the idea of being the Alpha’s Luna more than she ever really cared about him, what he wanted and needed.

Victor sighs, disappointed. Because if she had been his mate, his match at every turn, what did that say about him?

Victor’s train of thought is disturbed, though, by the sound of the gate moving and the van’s subsequent lurch forward. Amelia spins her head, looking first towards the driver’s seat and then to the back doors. She can’t see anything – of course – but, frantic, she’s trying to learn all that she can.

“It’s almost over, Amelia,” Victor says with a sigh. “You can calm down. No one’s going to hurt you.”

She snaps her face back to him, glaring again, but this time Victor looks away, meeting Edgar’s eyes in the seat next to him. He has work to do now. Edgar gives a deep nod, letting Victor know that he’s still in on the plan. Victor returns the gesture, steady.

The van rolls to a stop and, after a moment of quiet, the doors are opened from the outside, a team of Betas waiting there. Victor gives them a quick glance and, after ascertaining that all is well on their side of the plan, moves to kneel by Amelia’s feet.

“I’m going to cut the bindings on your legs, Amelia,” he says softly, meeting her eyes. “But if you try to run, we’ll catch you, and then we’ll carry you the rest of the way. Which will be humiliating for you, but no trouble for us. All right?”

Seething, she says nothing, just continues to glare. Victor sighs and slips a knife from his back pocket and swiftly cuts the duct tape around her ankles. Immediately, even though her legs are still bound at the thighs, Amelia lifts her left leg and aims a sharp kick at Victor’s chest.

Victor simply raises a hand to block her kick, grabbing her ankle in the air and raising his eyes to glare at her.

“Give it up, Amelia,” he orders, refusing to be riled. She is, at this point, merely a problem to be solved – not someone worth expending real emotion on. “You’ve lost this game. It’s done. If you fight, you’re only making it harder on yourself. All right?”

Furious, she works to stare her former mate down. But then a shadow falls across her face and, a little frightened, Amelia looks up to see Edgar standing there, watching her.

“He’s right,” Edgar says simply, giving a little shrug. “You’ve been outmatched, Amelia. You played the game well, but you lost. You, of all people, should know when to gracefully bow out rather than be beaten down into the dust. Have a little more pride than that.”

Victor watches the exchange, curious when Amelia gives a tight little sigh through her nose, as if she’s above it all. Victor then looks at Edgar curiously. When had he learned so much about Amelia? How did he know precisely what to say? Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Amelia tosses her hair back, refusing to look at Victor again as he smirks and cuts the duct tape holding her thighs together. Then, Edgar bends forward and puts a supportive hand beneath Amelia’s arm, helping her stand up. “Come on, lady,” he murmurs, smirking at her, teasing. “plane’s waiting.”

Amelia’s eyes fly up as she hears his words. Plane?

Where the hell were they taking her?

Victor climbs out of the Van first, reaching out a hand to help Amelia down, Edgar coming behind her. Her arms are still bound behind her back and the strip of duct tape is still holding firm across her mouth.

As soon as she’s out of the Van, Victor looks around, his hair blowing in the breeze of the airstrip. He reaches up and loosens his tie, surprised by the heat he feels coming off the tarmac. Spring must be coming, he thinks, feeling bright about the idea.

Spring, meaning his sons’ birthday would be soon, and a beautiful Luna to celebrate with, and the Amelia problem all wrapped up.

Spring would bring good things.

Edgar clears his throat and Victor turns back to the pair of them, nodding. “Right,” he ways, gesturing beyond the band of Betas to where the private jet waits. “This way.”

Amelia’s eyes go wide when she sees the plane. She recognizes it, of course – she’s ridden in it a hundred times, going back and forth to Europe on Victor’s dime. But still, she probably never thought

she’d see it again. The three walk over to the plane just as its boarding steps unlock and begin to extend from the fuselage.

Amelia lets herself be quietly led for a moment, but when they reach the bottom of the stairs, she starts to panic, her breath coming fast, looking around for any kind of escape –

Edgar tightens his grip on her arm, looking at her steadily. “It’s not use, Amelia,” he says softly, and she spins her head to stare at him. “This is happening. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. We’ll carry you on board and sedate you if we have to.”

Tears fill her eyes, then, of rage and disappointment as well as fear. But of all the emotions, Victor knows that disappointment is the greatest of the three. Amelia hates to lose, and she’s been thoroughly routed this time.

“Amelia,” he says, gentle, and she turns her head to him. “It’s done,” Victor says quietly, shaking his head at her. A tear drips down her face as she stares at him, finally starting to believe it herself.

Then, Victor reaches inside his suitcoat and pulls out two objects. Amelia’s eyes flash to them, recognizing them immediately.

The first is a lighter – black, simple, the kind of thing you could pick up at any gas station.

The other, though, is her passport – she knows it’s hers because it’s still in the purple monogrammed case Victor bought her as a gift years ago.

As she watches, Victor quickly flicks the lighter, producing a flame. And then, steadily, he brings the passport to it.