Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Damon pov

I stepped through the door just as Marissa’s voice cracked, catching the tail end of something about Evelyn being kind to her despite everything, and felt a fresh wave of complicated emotion move through me-gratitude for Evelyn’s grace, old grief at everything that had led us here, and genuine worry at how fragile Marissa looked, curled into herself on the couch.

*My mate is extremely special,* f thought, watching Evelyn move with quiet, steady compassion despite every reason she had to simply turn Marissa away. *And I almost lost that entirely, because of my own weakness.*

The thought settled heavy in my chest as I crossed the room, kneeling in front of Marissa, taking in the full extent of her distress-hollow eyes, trembling hands, the particular unraveled quality of someone who’d been holding herself together through sheer will for longer than her body could actually sustain.

“Marissa.” I kept my voice gentle, though urgency threaded beneath it. “You scared everyone, running like that. Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” she said, though the words came out thin, unconvincing. “I just needed to see Hazel.”

We talked briefly, and I promised to accompany her back to the facility, watching relief flood through her at not having to face the return alone. Sarah fell into step behind us as we made our way out of the apartment, and I glanced back once at Evelyn, gratitude and apology both tangled together in the look I gave her.

The drive toward the facility was quiet at first, Marissa staring out the window, her hands still trembling slightly in her lap, exhaustion and lingering panic both visible in her posture.

“I don’t want to go back there,” she said eventually, her voice small. “Not because I don’t need help. I know I do. But it’s so far from Hazel, so far from everyone. I feel like I’m disappearing out there, completely disconnected from everything that actually matters.”

I considered that carefully, understanding the isolation she was describing, some old memory of Evelyn’s own eight months of isolation surfacing uncomfortably alongside it. “What are you asking, exactly?”

“Is there anywhere closer?” Her voice cracked further, tears welling fresh in her eyes. “Somewhere I could actually get real treatment, but still see Hazel regularly, still feel connected to something instead of completely cut off?” She turned to look at me, something desperate and pleading in her expression. “Please, Damon. I know I don’t deserve to be asking you for favors. But I don’t know who else to ask.”

I sat with the request for a long moment, weighing it carefully against everything else-her genuine need for real treatment, the practical logistics of proximity, the complicated question of what role, if any, she deserved to have easily accessible to pack lands after everything that had happened.

“I can look into it,” I said finally. “There might be facilities closer to the compound that could offer what you need. I’m not promising anything yet, Marissa. I need to actually research what’s available, talk to the doctors. about whether transferring you makes sense given everything you’re working through.”

“Thank you,” she said, fresh tears spilling down her face, though these seemed different than the panicked, unraveled tears from earlier -something more like genuine, exhausted gratitude instead.

We arrived at the facility a while later, and I stayed while the staff processed her return, explaining what had happened, listening carefully as the doctors discussed adjusting her care plan given tonight’s escape attempt. They seemed less alarmed than I expected, actually, treating the incident as a fairly common occurrence for patients working through the specific kind of postpartum crisis Marissa appeared to be experiencing-not dismissive of the risk, but not treating it as evidence of some deeper, unfixable instability either.

172

+15 Bonus

“We do have a partner facility about an hour from what I understand is your pack territory,” one of the doctors mentioned, when I raised the question of proximity. “Smaller, but well-regarded, especially for cases involving postpartum psychiatric complications. I could put together a referral if you’re seriously considering transfer.”

“Please,” I said. “I think it would help her recovery, honestly, having the baby more accessible rather than entirely cut off.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify