Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack novel Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Damon pov

I’d just gotten Willow settled back to sleep against my shoulder, her small weight finally heavy and even with rest, when the door opened without a knock.

My father stood in the doorway, and behind him, unmistakably, two enforcers I recognized from the pack’s inner guard-men I’d trained alongside years ago, now standing rigid and uncomfortable in the entrance of a hospital’ maternity room like they didn’t fully understand why they’d been brought here either.

Evelyn went rigid in the bed instantly, her hand moving toward Willow on pure instinct even though I was the one holding her.

“Dad.” I stood slowly, keeping my voice level, keeping Willow cradled protectively against my chest. “What is this.

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“This is me doing what you refused to.” He stepped fully into the room, his eyes sweeping over Evelyn with a cold, assessing look that made something in my chest flare hot with anger. “You’re coming home. Both of you, and the child. Today.”

“I told you on the phone this wasn’t happening on your timeline.”

“And I decided your timeline is a liability the pack can’t afford.” He nodded toward the enforcers, and I felt my whole body go tense, some old instinctive fury rising up fast and sharp. “Get the car brought around. We’ll need it for the mother and infant.”

“Don’t move,” I said, and the authority in my own voice surprised even me, sharp enough that both enforcers actually hesitated, glancing uncertainly between my father and me. “Nobody is putting Evelyn or my daughter in a car against her will. Not today, not ever.”

“Damon.” My father’s voice hardened further. “You’re not thinking clearly. This is pack business, and as future Alpha you don’t have the luxury of indulging—”

“She’s not pack business.” I stepped slightly in front of Evelyn’s bed, some fierce, protective instinct I didn’t fully examine taking over completely. “She’s the mother of my child, and she just gave birth less than a day ago. Nobody is forcing her anywhere.”

My father’s eyes narrowed, something dangerous settling into his expression. “You’d defy me. Over this.”

“I’d defy you over a lot of things, apparently, now that I’m finally paying attention.” I held his gaze steadily, refusing to back down despite thirty years of instinct telling me to. “Get out of this room. Take them with you.” I nodded toward the enforcers. “This conversation is over.”

“It’s not your decision to make alone anymore,” my father snapped, and for the first time, real anger cracked through his usual cold control. “Your mother is gone. Marissa’s gone. Whatever pathetic sense of honor you’ve discovered this week doesn’t change the fact that this pack needs stability, and I will not stand by while you hand that instability another eight months to fester because you’ve suddenly grown a conscience.”

“Then challenge me for it,” I said quietly. “If you think I’m unfit to decide this, you know the process. But you don’t get to walk enforcers into a hospital room and threaten to drag a woman out of her recovery bed. That’s not pack law. That’s just you, being exactly the kind of alpha I don’t want to become.”

The room went silent, tension thick enough to choke on. One of the enforcers shifted uncomfortably, and I caught his eye briefly-Marcus, I remembered now, someone I’d trained beside since we were both barely more than pups. Whatever he’d been told to expect walking in here, I didn’t think it had been this.

1/3

Chapter 12

+15 Bohus

“We’re not doing this,” Marcus said quietly, glancing toward the other enforcer, who nodded in slow agreement. Alpha-” he looked toward my father, then back to me, some visible discomfort in the correction. “This isn’t what we signed up to enforce.”

My father’s jaw tightened, fury flashing behind his eyes at the open dissent, but he didn’t argue further, some calculating recognition crossing his face that he’d lost this particular battle before it fully started.

“This isn’t finished,” he said instead, his voice low and cold, directed at ine. “You have one week. Bring them home voluntarily, or I’ll call a formal council session to discuss whether you’re fit to inherit at all.”/

“Then call it,” I said. “I’m not afraid of that conversation anymore.”

He held my gaze a moment longer, something unreadable passing behind his eyes, before he turned and left without another word, the enforcers trailing uncertainly behind him. The door clicked shut, and the room fell into a heavy, ringing silence.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my arms tightening slightly around Willow, still miraculously asleep despite everything that had just happened around her.

“Are you okay,” I asked quietly, turning back toward Evelyn.

She was staring at the door, still tense, her hands gripping the blanket tightly. “He was going to make them take us. Wasn’t he. If those enforcers hadn’t refused.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, because lying to her right now felt like exactly the wrong thing to do, after everything. “I don’t know how far he was actually willing to go. I’ve never seen him do something like that before.”

“I can’t go back there.” Her voice shook now, the adrenaline of the confrontation giving way to something rawer underneath. “Damon, I can’t raise her somewhere your father thinks he can send enforcers to drag me out of a hospital bed.”

“You’re not going back there.” I moved closer, carefully, watching her carefully for any sign she wanted distance instead. “Not unless it’s entirely your choice, and not until you actually trust it’s safe. I meant what I said. I’m not forcing anything on you again.”

“He said one week.” She looked up at me, exhaustion and fear both plain in her expression. “What happens when that week runs out?”

I didn’t have a clean answer for that, and I wasn’t going to insult her with a false one. “I don’t know yet. But I know it’s not going to involve enforcers showing up here again. I’ll figure out how to handle my father. That’s not something you need to carry.”

She studied me for a long moment, something shifting slightly behind her tired eyes-not trust, not yet, but maybe something adjacent to it, some small willingness to believe I might actually mean it this time.

“You stood between them and us,” she said quietly, like she was still processing the fact of it. “You actually stood between them and us.”

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