Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack (Evelyn and Damon) novel Chapter 162

Warriors around me continued engaging the rogue forces, and I watched Callum fighting fiercely nearby, his own wolf form matching the same intensity I felt coursing through my own.

Genevieve spotted me approaching, and something calculating and desperate crossed her expression, understanding immediately I was moving directly toward her position rather than simply engaging the immediate combat surrounding us.

"You'll never stop me," she screamed, her voice carrying the same unstable, desperate edge I remembered from our previous confrontation, though now compounded by whatever additional deterioration her escape and subsequent planning had apparently caused. "I'll make sure you lose everything, exactly like I lost everything."

I didn't respond, understanding words held no value against her current, thoroughly unhinged state, and continued moving toward her with focused, deliberate purpose, my wolf's fury driving every step.

She turned to flee as I closed the distance, but additional warriors had already begun surrounding the perimeter, cutting off her potential escape routes, and I watched with grim, satisfied fury as she found herself increasingly cornered despite her desperate attempts to break free.

The fighting continued around us, warriors gradually gaining the upper hand against the invading rogues, several already subdued or fleeing back toward whatever territory they'd originated from, and I focused entirely on Genevieve, understanding this confrontation needed to end definitively, permanently, this time.

She lunged suddenly, something metallic catching moonlight again, exactly as she had during our previous, devastating confrontation, but this time I was prepared, my wolf's speed and strength allowing me to avoid the attack entirely, closing the remaining distance before she could recover her balance.

I pinned her carefully, restraining rather than harming, understanding the genuine importance of capturing her alive despite every violent instinct screaming for something more permanent and immediate.

"It's over," I said, my voice carrying low, dangerous finality despite my continued restraint. "This ends now, Genevieve. Permanently."

She struggled against my hold, sobbing now, her earlier fury collapsing into something broken and genuinely unstable. "You don't understand," she gasped. "None of you understand what it's actually like—"

"I understand you've cost my family nearly everything," I said, fury still evident beneath my controlled restraint. "My father's heart, permanently damaged. Countless sleepless nights, constant fear, and now, attacking during the exact hour my son was born. Whatever genuine struggles you're facing, that doesn't excuse any of this."

Additional warriors arrived, and I finally released her into their custody, watching them restrain her properly, understanding this time, given the severity of this coordinated attack, the council would almost certainly authorize considerably more severe, permanent consequences.

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