Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack (Evelyn and Damon) novel Chapter 279

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." He picked up the folder and tucked it under his arm. "I'll put together a full file. Names, photos, plates. If it comes to a legal fight, we'll want everything in writing."

He left, and I stood there for a long time with my hands braced on the sill, trying to make my wolf stop pacing.

---

I was in the kitchen an hour later, pretending to read a patrol report, when I heard soft footsteps on the stairs.

She appeared in the doorway, and I forgot the report entirely.

Marissa looked like she'd slept maybe four hours and woken up still tired. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her hair had dried in loose, wavy curls around her shoulders. She was swimming in my hoodie, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and she'd rolled the sweatpants so many times they looked like thick gray donuts around her ankles. She was barefoot, and her toes curled against the cold tile.

She stopped when she saw me, one hand gripping the doorframe.

"Good morning," I said quietly.

"Morning." Her voice was small and raspy. Her gaze darted around the kitchen, taking in the exits, the windows, the two pack members eating cereal at the far table who were very obviously pretending not to look at her. "Is it okay that I came down? I wasn't sure. The door wasn't locked from the outside, so I thought—"

"It's absolutely okay. You can go anywhere you want in the house." I stood slowly and pulled out a chair at the counter, putting space between us. "Hungry?"

"A little." She hesitated. "You sat outside my door last night."

My ears went hot. "How did you—"

"I heard you. Around two. You shifted, and the floor creaked." She twisted her fingers in the hoodie's hem. "Why did you do that?"

I thought about lying. It would have been easier. But I'd told her I wouldn't, in the rain, and I meant it.

"Because you were scared," I said, "and I didn't want you to wake up alone."

She stared at me. Her eyes got shiny, and she looked away fast.

"Sit," I said gently. "Please. Let me make you something."

She sat on the very edge of the stool, ready to bolt. I cracked eggs into a pan, because there's nothing less threatening than a man making scrambled eggs, and kept my back half-turned so she could watch me without feeling watched.

"I should tell you something," I said, once the eggs were sizzling.

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