My Savior, My Keeper

Forging Alliances

,Jupiter eased herself upright, biting back a sharp breath as her side protested. Early light drifted into Calhoun’s room, touching the worn maps and the muted shine of wooden furniture. She pressed a hand lightly against the bandage beneath her shirt, the memory of steel and fear still fresh. She was alive, but now she had to face the pack’s judgment about what had happened. That might be harder than surviving a blade.

The door opened, and Calhoun stepped inside. He paused, eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of her sitting up. He didn’t scold her—he didn’t need to. Disapproval hummed in the silence.

“How bad is it?” she asked quietly, bracing for a lecture.

He crossed the room with that controlled grace of his, setting a few papers down on his desk. “The council wants a meeting about the hunt,” he said. His voice was level, but his jaw twitched. “They’re not thrilled.”

Jupiter rolled her eyes, trying not to wince. “Surprise, surprise. I’m guessing they think it’s all my fault again?”

Calhoun’s gaze flicked over her face. “They’ll say it’s an ill omen, more proof you shouldn’t be here.”

“Then I need to be there,” she insisted, voice steady despite the ache in her ribs. “I’m not sitting around while they rip me apart behind my back.”

He exhaled slowly, as if weighing whether to argue. Then he stepped aside, holding the door open. He didn’t say a word, but the tension in his shoulders told her everything. She pushed to her feet, ignoring the pain. She would face them on her own two feet, no matter what.

---

The council chamber buzzed with low voices that quieted the moment Jupiter entered at Calhoun’s side. The heavy table, the stern faces—she tried to ignore the knot in her stomach. Seraphina waited near the end of the table, polished as ever, her blue eyes cold enough to frost glass. David lounged in a chair off to one side, giving Jupiter a small lift of his eyebrows that said, *Let’s see what you’ve got.*

As soon as she settled beside Calhoun, the advisor—the older wolf who’d never liked her—cleared his throat. “We’re here about the hunt,” he said, tone grim. “The pack expected a simple show of unity. Instead, there’s confusion. Whispers.”

Seraphina’s voice slid into the silence, smooth and pointed. “Not the image we wanted, is it?”

Jupiter’s teeth clenched, but before she could speak, a calm, measured voice emerged from further down the table.

“Is it really that dire?” asked Rosalind, leaning forward. Her tone was gentle but carried a hint of challenge. “The pack expected a stag. Instead, they saw you two take down an assassin—more cunning and dangerous than any prey we usually chase. Isn’t that a sign of strength, not weakness?”

A ripple of surprise passed through the room. Jupiter turned, genuinely startled by Rosalind’s support. The last time they’d crossed paths was at a tense tea party, yet here she was, defending Jupiter’s place. It felt like a lifeline tossed into stormy seas.

David smirked from his corner. “She’s got a point. The pack might be rattled, but they also saw you handle something worse than a stag. I’d call that impressive, not ill-fated.”

Seraphina’s fingers tightened around her glass. “The problem is perception,” she said, carefully. “Some believe her”—she didn’t even say Jupiter’s name—“presence caused this escalation.”

Jupiter refused to look away. “Or maybe the escalation was always going to happen, and my surviving the ritual just forced it into the open.” Her voice didn’t waver, though her side throbbed. “The assassin’s dagger bore a mark tied to the pack. This isn’t an outside threat. Someone here arranged it. Ignoring that won’t make it disappear.”

A hush fell. The advisor squirmed, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. Seraphina’s smile tightened.

Calhoun spoke quietly, but his voice was iron. “She’s right. We need to find out who’s behind this. Every one of you will help.”

Silence pressed in. Finally, Rosalind inclined her head graciously, as if acknowledging a promising negotiation. “Then we have a path forward,” she said. “And the pack sees that even a real threat, not just a showy tradition, couldn’t break your unity.”

Seraphina rose, smoothing her skirts. “Let’s hope this unity lasts.” There was a razor’s edge to her tone, but no one challenged her as she swept out.

---

When the meeting ended, Jupiter stepped into the corridor, each step careful and deliberate. David caught up with her, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as if he owned it.

“Not half bad,” he said, eyes dancing with mischief. “I think you rattled a few cages.”

Jupiter shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. “I’m not trying to pick fights, David. I just—” She stopped, struggling to find the words. “I just want them to see reason.”

“Reason and tradition don’t get along well around here,” David said lightly. “But you gave them something to think about. Even Rosalind backed you, and she’s not one to waste words.”

That was true. Rosalind’s quiet support had felt like a surprise gift. Jupiter allowed herself a small, grateful smile. “I guess not everyone’s rooting against me.”

David’s smirk softened. “Careful, though. The ones who hate change might try something else. Keep an eye on your back.”

“I will,” she said quietly, her gaze drifting to the end of the hallway where Calhoun stood, silent and watchful. He hadn’t praised her, hadn’t scolded her. Yet his presence was steady, unshaken, like a pillar in a storm.

“Speaking of backs,” David whispered conspiratorially, “I believe our Alpha’s been quite fixed on yours lately. Don’t break him, alright?”

Jupiter flushed, shooting David a glare. “You’re imagining things.”

He chuckled and pushed off the wall, strolling away without another word.

---

Later, in Calhoun’s room, the fire had faded to gentle embers. Jupiter sat on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of the day—her wound throbbed, but less sharply now, overshadowed by the swirl of doubts and small victories in her mind. She’d spoken up, and Rosalind had supported her. Seraphina was rattled, the advisor uncertain. David hinted that she’d stirred the pot effectively. Maybe she was beginning to forge her place in this pack.

The door opened softly, and Calhoun entered. He didn’t speak right away, just studied her for a moment as if assessing both her condition and her mood. She waited, equally unsure what to say.

“You were right about calling out the internal threat,” he said quietly. “They didn’t like hearing it, but they heard it.”

She nodded, keeping her tone level. “I just told the truth. It’s not my fault they’re uncomfortable.”

He looked at her then, really looked, and she felt that quiet intensity that always set her heart fluttering. “You’re not wrong often,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s irritating.”

A surprised laugh escaped her. “Get used to it,” she replied, the tension between them easing for a moment. She wanted to say more, to thank him for letting her come, or to ask if he was proud. But the words stuck in her throat.

Calhoun hovered near the door, as if caught between staying and leaving. She caught the subtle shift in his stance, the way his gaze dropped to the bed and back to her face. She could almost feel the question he didn’t ask, the comfort he didn’t offer in words.

Then he turned suddenly, pulling the door open with more force than necessary. He left without looking back, footsteps echoing down the hall.

Jupiter released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The silence in his wake was heavier, but not entirely unwelcome. She’d taken steps today—small, painful steps—toward carving out a place here, forging alliances with unexpected allies like Rosalind, challenging voices like Seraphina’s, and understanding this strange tie she felt with Calhoun.

Her side ached, her mind whirled, but for the first time since she stumbled into this world, she felt like she might have a say in what happened next.