Chapter 23


    #Chapter 23 – Sick Twins


    The next morning, Betas who hustle about Victor’s kitchen as he enters it, making phone calls,


    surveying the sight-lines from the kitchen and living room. “Good,” he says, nodding.


    “Good morning, baby,” Amelia purrs, pressing a hot cup of coffee and cream into his hand and giving


    him a kiss on the cheek. Victor nces at her and nods, gesturing to the Beta pack leader toe


    over.


    “Thanks foring early, Edgar,” Victor says. “I want two teams working at all times – one on


    surveince of the house, the other doing reconnaissance. I want answers. This can never happen


    again.”


    Edgar nods, swift and efficient. “Yes sir. Apologies, I should have had a bigger team at the parade


    yesterday – I should have been there myself –“


    Victor waves a hand, dismissing it. “The amount of protection you supplied yesterday matched my


    commands. However, situations have changed – I should have adjusted the instructions to include the


    boys.”


    “Yes…” says Edgar, hesitating. “The…boys. Should I prepare…”


    “Yes, Beta, you should prepare your team to protect the two boys at all times. They are my sons, and I


    will acknowledge them as such as soon as I can arrange it.”


    Edgar nods slowly, unable to stop his eyebrows from raising just a little bit.


    “Their mother, too, full protection.” Victor continues. “Her name is Evelyn Walsh, though she changed it


    to Ortega when she went Rogue. They’re living in the property out back,” he says, gesturing towards


    the back windows. “I want you on all three of them, full time care.”


    Edgar nods and salutes. “Yes sir.”


    “We start now, Beta. Any questions?”


    “No sir,” Edgar says.


    “Good.” Victor nods and drains his coffee. “You stay here, start organizing the patrols. I’ll take the


    reconnaissance team with me to the office to start research.”


    Edgar moves back towards his men, giving his own orders. Amelia appears beside Victor and he


    smiles at her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll see you tonight, baby?” she asks.


    Victor nods. “I’m going to drop in and see the boys when Ie back from the office,” he replies. “But


    I’ll be home for dinner.” Amelia gives him a smile as Victor puts his coffee up in the sink and snaps,


    drawing the Betas to order.


    “Let’s move out, boys.” The Betas salute as one and then head out of the house, Victor at their tail.


    “Victor,” Amelia calls as he goes. He turns and waits as she catches up. “Victor, about Evelyn…well, I


    was thinking…how much do we really know about her? About where shees from?”


    Victor frowns. “Shees from a very good family, the daughter of Alpha Walsh. Whose reputation,


    surely, you know.”


    “Yessss…”Amelia says softly. “I do know of Walsh, though I didn’t know he had another daughter.


    Especially a Rogue daughter. Do you think…” she hesitates again.


    “Amelia, I have to go. Can you just spit it out?”


    “Well, do you think she told him about his grandchildren? Or did she keep it a secret from him, like she


    did from you? Is there any possibility…”


    Victor sees where she’s going and grimaces, ashamed of himself for not thinking of it before. Of course


    Evelyn would have kept the boys secret from everyone, and an Alpha grandfather would want his only


    grandsons almost as much as Victor wanted his sons. Family was everything.


    “Thank you, Amelia,” Victor says, giving her a swift kiss and heading out the door. “This is useful.”


    “See you tonight,” she murmurs, blowing on her coffee and closing the door behind him, a smirk on her


    cherry lips.


    “Mama, I don’t feel good,” Ian’s voice is whiny as he wanders into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. I finish


    chopping the bell pepper and drop it into the sizzling pan before crouching down so that I’m on eye-


    level with my boy.


    “What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, opening my arms. Ianes forward and I look over his mmy skin, his


    ssy eyes. “Open your mouth, stick out your tongue,” I say. He does so and I note that his throat is


    inmed. “What hurts?” I ask.


    “My stomach,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “And I am all hot.” Ugh, great, a stomach bug.


    “Alvin!” I call, knowing already that my inseparable twins have shared this as well. Sure enough, Alvin


    comes into the kitchen flushed and grumpy. “Do you feel sick too, sweetie?”


    “Mmhmm,” he says,ing over to me for a hug. I hold my sweaty boys close for a moment and then


    stand up. “Okay, boys, battle stations. Upstairs, pajamas on. We’re getting you to bed.”


    Both boys whine in protest – they hate going to bed early under all conditions – but I p my hands,


    silencing them. “Up, go.” Imand, and they do.


    As they head up the stairs, I turn off the pan and ce a lid on it. Chicken fajitas will have to wait – it’s


    nothing but chicken soup tonight. As I move to the cab to bring down a can of soup, the back door


    opens and Victores in.


    “What, no knock?” I say.


    Victor looks at me for a moment, confused. “What? It’s my house.”


    I narrow my eyes. “It’s my house, Victor. I live here, I pay rent. I have rights.”


    He chuckles, dismissive, and closes the door. “Where are the boys.”


    “They’re upstairs,” I say, rolling my eyes at his audacity. “Actually, Victor, you might want to head home


    – I know you were scheduled for a visit, but the boys are sick –“


    “What?” he says, suddenly tense. “They’re sick? With what? What’s wrong?”


    I am surprised by this sudden worry. “It’s not a big deal, Victor. They’re just not feeling well – it’s


    probably just a bug –“


    “Do they have fevers?” He moves to take off his coat, heading for the stairs.


    “I don’t know –“


    “You didn’t take their temperature?!”


    “I literally just found out two seconds ago, Victor!” I chase him to the staircase. “I’ve barely had time to


    breathe, let alone –“


    N?velDrama.Org: text ? owner.


    “Where’s you’re thermometer!” Amand, not a question.


    I roll my eyes again, getting sick of the gesture. I wave a hand at him even though he can’t see me


    anymore and head back into the kitchen, opening the soup and pouring it into a pot to heat quickly. Ten


    minutester, with two bowls on a try, I head upstairs.


    Victor is in boys’ room, the stic thermometer in his hands. “No, daddy,” Ian says, whining. “It doesn’t


    go under my tongue, it goes in my ear.”


    “That’s ridiculous,” Victor murmurs, “temperatures are taken under your tongue –“


    “Nooooo,” Alvin cries, his illness making him impatient. “You’re wroooooooong.”


    “Give that to me,” I say, putting the tray down and taking the thermometer out of Victor’s hands.


    “They’re right, it’s a new kind of thermometer. It’s not 1950 anymore.” Ian obligingly turns his ear to me


    and I ce the thermometer gently in, pressing the button.


    A momentter it beeps, returning a temperature of 103. “Is that, um…is that high?” Victor asks, clearly


    worried.


    “Yes,” I murmur, moving to Alvin’s bed to take his as well. “But not too high.” Alvin’s temperature


    matches Ian’s as it always does. Another solid 103.


    I tuck the boys tightly into their beds, wrapping them in nkets like little mummies so they can hardly


    move. Neither says much as I work, except for little moans of protest.


    Victor stands between their beds a little helplessly, watching me work. “What do we do?”


    “You can go, Victor,” I say, shaking my head at him. “They’re just going toy here for a couple of


    hours, they’ll be fine. But there’s not much to do but wait.”


    “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll stay. They need me.”


    Iugh gently. “They really don’t,” I say. “But okay. Let’s try to get some food in them.” I gesture towards


    the soup, and he picks up a bowl, sitting on the edge of Ian’s bed. I watch him, smiling a little, as he lifts


    a spoonful of soup towards Ian’s lips.


    “Nooooo” says Ian, turning his head way in revulsion. This is also out of character – my boys are


    always good eaters.


    “Come on, buddy,” Victor says, “just a couple of bites to keep you strong.”


    “No!” Ian yells, twisting his head away in the other direction.


    “One bite,” Victor pleads.


    “No!”


    “I’ll buy you a pony,” Victor wheedles.


    Ian opens an eye, considering. Victor sees a gap. “I’ll buy you a car –“


    “Victor,” I scold, interrupting.


    “I want a carrrrr,” cries Alvin, grumpy and tired, his emotions getting the best of him. I sigh and put the


    soup on his bedstand, seeing that we’re not getting anywhere.


    “Okay,” I say. “Daddy will buy you both cars. But you can only drive them when I’m dead, so I don’t


    have to watch.”


    Victor chuckles softly. Then, suddenly, Ian sits stock-straight in bed, his face turning ashen.


    “Uh oh,” I say, moving towards him. “Victor, quick, he’s –“


    Then, before I can get to him, Ian retching, leaning over into Victor’sp, throwing up all over Victor’s


    Armani shirt and pants.


    Grimacing at the thought of the drycleaning bill, I sit behind Ian on his bed, stroking his hair back and


    making soft noises to calm him. Victor, to his credit, doesn’t jump or yell or do anything that mike make


    Ian feel guilty. He just goes slightly green and holds his breath until Ian turns his head, crying softly, to


    rest against my chest.


    “It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, patting my son on his back. I give Victor an ironic smile, apologizing silently.


    He shrugs.


    “What can I do?” He asks.


    “Get new sheets and nkets,” I say, gesturing towards the boys’ closet. “And new pajamas. And a


    trashcan for Alvin,” I say, pointing at the second twin, whose face has just gone white in the next bed.


    “He’s next.”