Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87

Damon pov

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The walk back to our quarters felt longer than usual, exhaustion from the day’s finance meetings and the lingering weight of my father’s stepping-down announcement pressing heavy against my shoulders, but underneath it all sat something warmer, something I’d been carrying since that morning’s unexpected kiss- genuine, eager anticipation to actually see Evelyn and Willow again.

I missed them. Simple as that, an ache that had settled into something constant these past weeks, sharper on days like today when pack business kept me away longer than I wanted.

I was maybe twenty feet from our door when my father stepped out from the shadows near the path, and something in his posture immediately set me on alert-swaying slightly, one hand braced against the wall beside him, his face pale in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion or emotional weight.

“Dad?” I moved toward him quickly, genuine alarm cutting through my earlier fatigue.

“Son.” His voice came out thin, unsteady, nothing like his usual measured authority. “I don’t feel right.”

I caught him just as his knees buckled slightly, his weight suddenly heavier against my arm than I expected, sweat beading visibly along his hairline despite the cool evening air.

“What’s wrong,” I said, urgency sharpening my voice as I helped steady him. “Talk to me. What are you feeling?”

“Chest,” he managed, his breathing shallow and labored. “Tight. Been building since this afternoon, I thought it was just… stress, exhaustion. It’s gotten worse.”

Cold dread flooded through me, understanding immediately the potential severity of what he was describing.’ How long has this been happening?”

“An hour, maybe two.” He winced, one hand pressing against his chest, his breathing growing more visibly labored even as he spoke. “I didn’t want to make a scene. Thought it would pass.”

“We need to get you to the healers, now.” I pulled my phone free with one hand while keeping him steady with the other, dialing Callum immediately. “Callum, my father’s having some kind of medical emergency. Chest pain, difficulty breathing. Get the healers to the main path near my quarters immediately.”

“On it,” Callum said, already sounding like he was moving. “I’ll have them there in minutes.”

I helped my father lower himself carefully to sit against the low stone wall lining the path, keeping him upright but stable, watching his face with mounting alarm as his breathing continued to struggle.

“Stay with me,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage despite the fear building in my chest. “Help is coming. Just breathe, okay? Slow breaths.”

“Damon.” He gripped my arm, his eyes finding mine with an intensity that cut through the pain visible in his expression. “If something happens to me tonight, I need you to know-everything I said about stepping down, about actually trying to change. I meant it. Every word.”

“Don’t talk like that,” I said, fear sharpening into something more urgent. “You’re going to be fine. The healers are coming.”

“I need to say it anyway,” he insisted, breath catching painfully. “In case I don’t get another chance. I’m proud of you, Damon. Not for the reasons I used to be proud of you-following tradition, fitting the mold I built for you. I’m proud of you now for actually becoming someone better than I ever managed to be.”

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Something in my chest ached fiercely at that, tears unexpectedly stinging my eyes despite the urgent, practical fear still driving most of my attention. “You’re going to tell me this again, when you’re actually better. I’m not accepting this as some deathbed confession.”

He managed something that might have been a weak, pained smile at that, before his face contorted again with obvious discomfort, his breathing growing shallower.

The healers arrived moments later, moving with practiced efficiency, immediately checking his pulse, his breathing, asking rapid questions about the onset and nature of his symptoms. I stepped back slightly to give them room, watching anxiously as they worked, my heart pounding with a fear I hadn’t fully expected to feel this intensely, given everything complicated and unresolved that still sat between us.

“We need to get him to the medical wing immediately,” the lead healer said, already directing two others to help lift him carefully onto a stretcher they’d brought. “This presentation is concerning enough that I want proper equipment and monitoring right away.”

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