Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack (Evelyn and Damon) novel Chapter 185

Damon pov

I'd barely settled into my desk chair, papers from the morning's border encounter still spread across the surface, when my phone rang, Callum's name displaying on the screen.

"What did we find," I asked, answering immediately.

"Their story checks out," he said, his voice carrying grim confirmation. "I reached out to a few allied packs, ran their identities through what records we could access. There's genuinely been conflict in their previous territory—a hostile faction attempting to consolidate power through violence, systematically eliminating anyone who resisted or simply didn't align with their leadership."

"Attempting to wipe them out," I said, understanding the genuine severity of what he was describing.

"Exactly that," Callum confirmed. "Several confirmed casualties before this group actually managed to flee. They genuinely had no other viable option beyond attempting to find sanctuary somewhere else entirely."

I felt a heavy, tired sigh leave my chest, understanding the genuine weight of what this confirmation meant—not simply a routine sanctuary request requiring standard verification, but genuine, documented desperation from people who'd survived exactly the kind of violent, destabilizing crisis our own family understood all too intimately now.

"I'm heading to the medical wing," I said, already standing, gathering my jacket. "Their leader deserves to actually hear this confirmation directly, and we need to begin the formal medical evaluations regardless of how the verification ultimately concluded."

"I'll meet you there," Callum said, and I made my way quickly through the compound, understanding this next conversation carried genuine significance for twenty-three people who'd apparently survived considerable, documented trauma before finding their way to our territory.

I arrived to find the medical wing already organizing for the necessary evaluations—healers preparing stations for each individual, careful protocols established for the required health screenings, blood work, and general wellness checks that any new arrival to pack territory genuinely required before permanent integration could even be considered.

The woman who'd approached me at the border, whose name I'd learned was Miriam, sat waiting in one of the private consultation rooms, her expression carrying obvious, guarded tension as I entered.

"Alpha-elect," she said, standing immediately, something anxious beneath her careful composure. "Have you reached a decision?"

I spent the following hours coordinating the extensive evaluation process, watching healers move systematically through each member of Miriam's group—checking for injuries, illness, general health concerns that required attention given the obvious physical toll weeks of dangerous travel had apparently exacted on everyone involved.

Several children required particular attention, their small forms carrying evidence of malnutrition and exhaustion that struck something genuinely protective in my chest, understanding exactly how much danger and hardship this entire group had apparently survived before finally reaching our territory.

"How are they all looking," I asked one of the healers, partway through the extensive process.

"Concerning in several cases," she said honestly. "Malnutrition, some untreated minor injuries, general exhaustion from what sounds like weeks of near-constant travel and vigilance. Nothing immediately life-threatening, but genuine evidence of considerable hardship."

I nodded, understanding the genuine weight of what they'd apparently survived, and made my way to check on Miriam again, finding her watching over the evaluations of what appeared to be her own family members—a younger woman with two small children, an elderly man moving slowly with obvious joint pain.