Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack (Evelyn and Damon) novel Chapter 167

Damon pov

The coordinates led to a small, out-of-the-way diner near the edge of neutral territory, and I'd insisted on bringing Callum and two additional warriors despite the message's implicit demand for discretion, understanding after everything we'd survived that walking into unknown meetings alone was no longer a mistake I intended to repeat.

They remained outside, positioned carefully but ready to respond, while I stepped inside alone, scanning the mostly empty space until I spotted her—a young woman sitting at a corner booth, dark hair, sharp, assessing eyes that tracked my approach with unsettling, deliberate calm.

"Hi, brother," she said, something in her smile carrying an unsettling quality I couldn't immediately place—not quite friendly, not quite hostile, something calculated beneath the surface warmth.

I sat across from her carefully, my wolf immediately on alert, every instinct sharpened by everything we'd survived these past several months.

"You're claiming to be my sister," I said, keeping my voice carefully neutral despite the tension coiling tight in my chest.

"Not claiming," she said, still watching me with that same unsettling, careful attention. "I am your sister. My name's Nadia."

A second woman approached from somewhere near the diner's rear entrance, older, moving with quiet, watchful caution, settling into the booth beside Nadia without introduction.

"Your mother was half right," Nadia continued, "about my existence, at least. But she wasn't entirely honest about how I actually came to exist."

"Explain," I said, my voice tight with controlled urgency.

Something calculating crossed her expression before she continued. "Genevieve didn't simply have an affair with your father, resulting in my birth. She drugged him. At a club event, years before he ever met your mother. He wasn't a willing participant in whatever happened that night."

I stared at her, disbelief and something colder, more unsettled, crashing through me simultaneously. "That's a serious accusation. I'm not simply going to accept something like that without genuine, verifiable evidence."

"I understand your skepticism," Nadia said, something almost amused in her tone despite the gravity of what she was claiming. "Ask him yourself. Ask Robert about a club event before he ever met Sarah. Watch his reaction carefully."

The older woman beside her spoke for the first time, her voice carrying quiet, careful weight. "I was there, twenty-three years ago. I helped deliver her, helped arrange her placement with a family who could raise her without questions being asked about her actual origin. Everything Nadia's telling you is genuinely true."

"And you are," I asked, turning my attention toward her.

"Constance," she said simply. "The midwife referenced in the message you received."

I processed that, understanding this at least confirmed the message's specific details had originated from someone with genuine, direct knowledge of whatever had actually occurred all those years ago.

"I need time," I said finally. "To properly verify everything, to discuss this directly with my father before determining how we actually proceed."

"Take whatever time you need," Nadia said, something patient but watchful in her expression. "I'm not going anywhere. I've waited twenty-three years to understand my actual heritage. I can wait a little longer for proper verification."