Page 9 of Falling for My Shifter Guardian

The drive is tense, the air between us thick with unspoken words. Derek’s hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, and his jaw is clenched in a way that makes the muscles in his neck stand out.

“Derek,” I say quietly, breaking the silence. “What’s going on? Who are the hunters? And why won’t you ever tell me anything?”

His jaw tightens further, and for a moment, I think he’s going to ignore me. But then he exhales sharply, his voice rough when he finally speaks. “Because it’s not your fight, Olivia. It’s mine.”

“Not my fight?” I snap, anger rising in my chest. “I just found a man bleeding out in the park. How is this not my fight?”

Derek slams on the brakes as we pull into the parking lot of a large warehouse. He turns to face me, his eyes locking onto mine with a force that makes my heart skip a beat.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he says, his voice low and raw. “That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

There’s something in his tone that cuts through my anger, something vulnerable and almost… desperate. Before I can respond, Sam groans from the backseat, breaking the moment.

Derek is out of the truck in an instant, his focus snapping back to the injured man. I scramble to follow, my mind racing with questions that have no answers. The warehouse looms ahead, its enormous steel doors reflecting the faint glow of the moon. It’s not what I expected—less industrial, more… homey, in a strange way. Warm light spills from windows high above, and the faint hum of voices filters through the walls.

Derek shoulders the door open, his movements careful but swift as he carries Sam inside. I trail behind him, my eyes darting around the massive space. The interior is a mix of rugged functionality and unexpected warmth—exposed brick walls, polished wooden floors, and an open layout that somehow feels welcoming despite its size.

A few people—men and women, all with the same sharp, alert energy as Derek—rush toward us the moment we enter. One of them, a tall man with auburn hair and dark eyes, barks outorders, and the others scatter to prepare a makeshift medical area.

“Theo,” Derek says, his voice tight as he passes Sam into the tall man’s arms. “Hunters. He needs help.”

The moment Derek disappears down the hallway with Theo and Sam, I’m left standing awkwardly in the middle of what feels like a living room designed by a lumberjack with unexpectedly good taste. The space is open and inviting, with oversized furniture, soft rugs, and the faint scent of cedar lingering in the air. It’s homier than I expected, but it does nothing to calm the nerves buzzing under my skin. My hands are still sticky with Sam’s blood, and I can’t shake the image of his pale, broken body from my mind.

I take a shaky breath, trying to make sense of everything. Hunters. Pack. Derek. None of it fits together in a way that feels real. How could I have lived my entire life without knowing this world existed? And how did Derek—a man who’s been a quiet, steady presence in my life—end up so deeply entangled in it?

I whirl around to find a petite woman with light brown hair and soft brown eyes standing a few feet away. She’s wearing a kind smile, but there’s a sharpness to her gaze, like she’s taking my measure even while her warmth puts me at ease. Beside her, a tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy blond hair is leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed and his usual lopsided grin firmly in place. It takes me a second to recognize him—it’s the guy I’ve seen at the diner more times than I can count.

“Olivia,” Ethan greets me smoothly, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing charm. “Caught you slacking off, did I? What’s a hardworking lady like you doing here?”

I roll my eyes, a small huff escaping before I can stop it. “Slacking off? Hardly. I see you so often I’m starting to think you live at the diner.”

“That’s because the coffee there is the best in Whispering Pines,” he shoots back with a grin that’s equal parts cocky and boyish. “Not to mention the best waitress.”

The woman beside him sighs, clearly exasperated but amused, like this is a routine she knows all too well. “Ignore him,” she says, stepping forward with an apologetic smile and offering her hand. “I’m Chloé. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Her voice is soft, but there’s an unmistakable confidence in the way she carries herself, like she’s used to keeping people like Ethan in check.

“Nice to meet you too,” I reply, offering her a small, apologetic smile instead of shaking her hand, mindful of the blood from Sam still staining my own. Chloé’s calm demeanor is a welcome contrast to the chaos I’ve just been thrown into.

Ethan tilts his head, studying me with a newfound seriousness, though his voice remains light. “You okay? You look like you’ve had one hell of a day.”

“More like a nightmare,” I admit, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just… I didn’t expect to find someone bleeding out in the park. And now I don’t even know what to think.”

Chloé’s expression softens, and she steps closer, her tone gentle but firm. “That must’ve been overwhelming. I promise, Sam’s strong. He’ll pull through. Now, why don't you come with me? You should clean up—it’ll help you feel a little a little better.”

She leads me out of the community room and down a quiet hallway. Stopping at a closet, she pulls out a set of soft gray sweats and hands them to me. “Here, these should fit. There’sa bathroom just ahead, and you can take a quick shower if you want. I’ll wait out here, and we can talk after.”

The bathroom is small but clean, the scent of lavender soap hanging faintly in the air. I close the door behind me and lean against it for a moment, exhaling slowly. My reflection in the mirror startles me—I look pale, with dried blood smeared on my hands and arms. The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright is finally wearing off, leaving me shaky and exhausted.

I strip off my clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water pour over me. My muscles unwind, and for a few minutes, I let myself exist in the quiet rhythm of the water. It feels like I’m washing away not just the blood, but the weight of the day as well. By the time I’m done, the trembling in my hands has mostly subsided.

I towel off and pull on the sweats Chloé gave me. They’re a little big, but the soft fabric is comforting. When I step back into the hallway, I hear low voices coming from the community room. Following the sound, I find Chloé and Ethan sitting on the sofas, their expressions lightening when they see me.

“You look better,” Chloé says, offering me a small smile. She pats the cushion next to her, and I sit down, tucking my legs under me.

Ethan leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Feeling a little less like you’ve been through the wringer?”

I nod. “Thanks. The shower helped.” I glance between the two of them, my thoughts still spinning. “Derek said hunters were responsible. I’ve heard the word before, but… who are they? What do they want?”

Chloé glances at Ethan, and for a moment, a silent conversation seems to pass between them. He shrugs slightly, as if to say,Go ahead. Chloé motions for me to sit on one of the oversized couches, and I sink into the cushions, grateful for the chance to finally sit. She takes a seat on the coffee table directly in front of me, folding her hands in her lap.

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