My Savior, My Keeper

Blood on the Forest Floor

Calhoun moved through the forest like a drawn bowstring, tension coiled tight in his muscles. Moonlight filtered through the high canopy, painting ghostly shapes on the mossy ground and twisting branches. He’d expected to find Jupiter close by, positioning herself to help corner the stag. Instead, he found only silence and shadows. Something was wrong.

His wolf stirred beneath his skin, urging him to move faster, to break into a run. He gritted his teeth. He needed to remain focused, sharp. Panic and fury wouldn’t help her. He had chosen this plan because it should have been straightforward. Jupiter would circle around, they’d force the stag into a trap, and the pack would see their unity firsthand. But now, as he strained to catch her scent, he realized how foolish it was to split up in unfamiliar terrain. The tension lingering after the council’s demands, the assassin who’d attacked Jupiter before—he should have known better than to leave her side.

He lowered himself beside a bent fern, searching the damp soil for any sign of her passage. A faint scuff mark, a disturbance in the moss. There—she’d been here. Relief flickered briefly before it gave way to dread. The stagnant silence pressed at his ears. No hint of the stag’s movement, no rustle of her boots on leaves. Just a hush that felt unnatural and thick.

Calhoun’s heart thudded harder when a distant sound drifted through the trees: a muffled gasp, the crack of wood on wood. He rose instantly, swallowing his fear. He had to get to her—now.

He bolted, silent and swift, his senses honed on that faint noise. The forest blurred around him, silver-lit trunks rushing past. There—a snapping branch, a sharp intake of breath. He broke through a thicket, branches clawing at his sleeves, and burst into a small clearing just in time to witness chaos.

Jupiter stood amid the moonlit space, breathing hard, her makeshift weapon—a rough branch—raised defensively. Opposite her stood a cloaked figure, blade glinting in the moonlight. Not the stag. Not even close. A surge of anger ripped through Calhoun’s chest. Another assassin. His eyes flicked to Jupiter’s stance—tense, determined. She was battered but not broken, chest heaving as she tried to anticipate the next strike.

Before he could move, the assassin lunged. Calhoun’s heart lurched. He saw Jupiter dodge, just barely, twisting to the side. Her boot caught on a root, and she almost lost her balance, but she recovered with a desperate swing of the branch. The assassin deflected it with ease, their blade ringing against the wood. Sparks of panic flared in Calhoun’s mind. She needed him, but he had to pick the right moment to intervene. One wrong move, and he might distract her at the worst time.

She was holding her own—fiercely, impressively so. The assassin was skilled, their strikes swift and controlled, but Jupiter moved with a scrappy ingenuity that made his chest swell with fierce pride despite the terror of the moment. She feinted to the left, forcing the assassin to adjust their footing, then jabbed the branch at their shoulder. The assassin snarled, caught off-guard for a split second. Jupiter pressed her advantage, swinging for the legs. The assassin hissed in pain as Jupiter’s makeshift weapon connected.

Good. She was landing blows. Still, it wasn’t enough to end this. Calhoun inched closer, silent as a predator, searching for an opening. He had to time this perfectly. His fingers twitched at his sides, his wolf snarling beneath his skin. He wanted nothing more than to tear this coward apart for daring to harm her.

Then it happened. The assassin lunged again, faster than before, and Jupiter, already winded, tried to block. The branch splintered under the blade’s force. Wood shards scattered, and Jupiter stumbled. Calhoun’s heart clenched as he saw her eyes widen, saw the assassin’s blade s***h across Jupiter’s side with merciless precision. Her cry was cut short, a gasping sound of pain. She doubled over slightly, blood darkening her torn clothing, her grip on the broken branch slipping.

That was it. He launched himself forward, rage and dread driving him. The assassin spun at the sound of his approach, too late to react properly. Calhoun crashed into them, his momentum slamming the hooded figure into a tree trunk. The assassin snarled, trying to s***h at him, but Calhoun caught their wrist and wrenched it aside. The blade fell with a dull thud into the leaf litter.

They grappled, moonlight flickering over them as they struggled. The assassin was skilled, twisting to break Calhoun’s hold. He let them think they were gaining ground before delivering a brutal elbow to their throat. They choked, staggering back. Calhoun followed with a vicious strike that sent them sprawling to the ground. The assassin wheezed, scrambling for the blade, but Calhoun stomped down on their wrist, eliciting a pained yelp. Without hesitation, he delivered the final blow, leaving the assassin lifeless and still.

Silence rushed back in. Calhoun’s chest heaved, fury and relief coursing through him. He turned instantly, searching for Jupiter. She stood a few paces away, clutching her side, her face pale and drawn. Even now, wounded and panting, she tried to stand tall, refusing to show weakness. He closed the distance, anger fading into worry as he saw her bloodstained sleeve and the dark patch on her torso.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded, voice rough with fear he wouldn’t name. He reached for her arm, carefully steadying her. She flinched, but didn’t pull away.

“I was following your plan,” she managed, voice tight, eyes flashing with pain and defiance. “There was no time to call for you.”

He grimaced, guilt twisting in his chest. She’d trusted his instructions, and he’d let her face this alone. “You’re hurt,” he said more softly, his hand hovering near her injury. He caught her gaze, saw fear and anger and something else swirling there—something that made his heart beat unevenly. She’d fought bravely, impressing him in ways that scared him more than he’d admit. The thought of losing her clawed at his insides.

“It’s… not good, is it?” she asked, swallowing hard. Her breath hitched, and he realized she was trying not to show how much it hurt.

He shook his head, jaw set. “We’ll handle it.” He resisted the urge to pull her closer, to murmur that he’d never let this happen again. That would be too much right now, too revealing. Instead, he glanced at the assassin’s body, anger rekindling as he remembered their words: Abomination. A threat from within the pack’s own ranks. This was no random attack.

A shape emerged from the shadows, and Calhoun tensed before recognizing David’s tall form. The Beta approached, brow furrowed. Without a word, David crouched by the assassin’s corpse, rifling through the cloak until he found a small embroidered patch. He held it up, light from the moon catching on frayed threads. Calhoun’s stomach sank—he recognized the symbol, or at least the style. Local. Someone in the pack had arranged this.

David rose, grim and quiet. “This didn’t come from outside. We have a traitor, or more than one.”

Jupiter’s eyes widened, fear shifting into determination. Calhoun felt her lean slightly into his hand, as if drawing strength from the contact despite her pain. He met her gaze, gold meeting green, and saw the resolve there, battered but unbroken.

“We find them,” he said, voice low and certain. He’d focus on her wounds, on getting her aid, but the vow lingered in his tone: whoever dared threaten her would pay.

She nodded, jaw tight. He could sense her anger and her vulnerability, the confusion of emotions stirred by tonight’s events. He would deal with that, too, in time. For now, the fight was won, but the war had just begun.

As the night pressed in around them and distant voices of the pack reached their ears, Calhoun steadied Jupiter gently. The stag and the show of unity they were meant to deliver to the pack felt distant now. The darkness they faced was more insidious, woven into the pack’s own fabric. But standing here, side by side, he knew they would face whatever lay ahead—together.