Page 4 of Falling for My Shifter Guardian (Wild & Forbidden Mates #5)

Olivia

The night air bites at my skin as I step out of the diner, pulling my jacket tighter around me. It’s late—too late—and Whispering Pines is eerily quiet, the streets deserted except for the occasional flicker of a dying streetlamp. My feet ache from hours on the floor, and all I want is to get home, kick off my shoes, and drown the day in a pint of chocolate ice cream. The silence should be comforting, but it isn’t. Not tonight.

I glance over my shoulder, the feeling of being watched crawling up my spine. Stop it, Olivia. You’re just tired… and maybe letting Ben’s paranoia get to you. That thought makes me wince. Lately, everything about him feels off—his constant warnings about danger, his sharp comments about my choices, his possessiveness.

I shake off the thought and take the shortcut through the park. It’s not my usual route home, but my bed is calling, and the shadowy trees don’t seem so threatening when the alternative is walking an extra ten minutes. I tell myself it’s fine. Whispering Pines isn’t exactly a hotbed of crime.

Except, the moment I step into the woods, something feels… wrong.

The air here is heavier, cooler. The pines rise like dark pillars around me, their branches whispering with the wind. My boots crunch against the dirt path, the sound too loud in the stillness.

Then I hear it.

A rustling noise, faint but distinct, followed by a low, guttural groan. I freeze mid-step, every nerve in my body on edge. My heart thumps hard against my ribs as I strain to hear, holding my breath.

There it is again. The sound of something—or someone—moving just beyond the tree line.

My instincts scream at me to turn back, to keep walking, to pretend I didn’t hear anything. But my feet betray me, drawn forward by a mix of curiosity and dread. My phone is clutched tightly in my hand, my thumb hovering over the emergency call button.

“Hello?” My voice comes out shaky, barely louder than a whisper.

The rustling grows louder, and then I see him—a man lying crumpled on the park floor, his body twisted at an awkward angle. The metallic scent of blood hits me, sharp and undeniable, and my stomach lurches.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, rushing to his side.

He’s young, maybe mid-twenties, his face pale and slick with sweat. His shirt is soaked with blood, the fabric clinging to a jagged wound on his side. Cuts and gashes crisscross his arms, and his breathing is shallow, uneven.

“Hey, can you hear me?” I ask, my hands hovering uselessly over him. He’s alive—barely—but I have no idea what to do.

His eyelids flutter, and he lets out a pained groan. “No… no hospital,” he rasps, his voice barely audible. “Call… my pack.”

Panic claws at my chest, but I force myself to think. There’s only one person who might understand what’s going on. Derek. He’ll know what to do.

My fingers are trembling as I dial his number. It rings once—just once—before he picks up.

“Olivia?” His voice is sharp, alert, like he’s already bracing for the worst.

“I—I found someone,” I stammer, my breath coming in short bursts. “He’s hurt, Derek. Badly. He told me not to call an ambulance, just his pack. I don’t know what to do—”

“Where are you?” he interrupts, his tone all business now.

“By the park, near the old gas station.”

“Stay there. Don’t move. I’m on my way.” The line goes dead.

I look back at the man. His breathing is fainter now, his chest barely rising. “Hang on. Help is coming,” I whisper, pressing my hands against his side to slow the bleeding. The sticky warmth of his blood seeps through my fingers, and I bite back the rising tide of panic.

A truck screeches to a stop at the edge of the woods, and Derek emerges like a force of nature. He moves with purpose, his tall, broad frame cutting through the darkness, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. There’s something about him—his presence, the way he commands the space around him—that makes the chaos feel a little less overwhelming.

“Olivia, step back,” he says, his voice low and firm.

“But—”

“Now.”

The intensity in his steel-gray eyes leaves no room for argument. Reluctantly, I move aside, my hands shaking as I wipe them on my jeans. Derek kneels beside Sam, his movements quick and practiced as he assesses the injuries.

“It’s Sam,” he mutters, more to himself than to me. “Damn it.”

“You know him?” I ask, my voice barely steady.

“He’s one of ours,” Derek says grimly. His jaw tightens, and there’s a flicker of something in his expression—anger, maybe, or fear. “Hunters did this.”

“Hunters?” The word feels foreign on my tongue, a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.

Derek doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts Sam with ease, cradling him like he weighs nothing. “You’re coming with me,” he says over his shoulder.

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s not safe for you to walk home alone. Get in the truck.”

There’s no point arguing. The look in his eyes is enough to tell me I don’t have a choice. I follow him to the truck, sliding into the passenger seat as he carefully lays Sam across the back.

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 out orders, 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’s a 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.

“The hunters are a group of humans,” Chloé begins carefully, her voice steady but tinged with gravity, “who believe shifters are dangerous. A threat to their way of life. They’ve been around for centuries, but recently, they’ve become more organized. More ruthless. They don’t just want to hurt us—they want to eradicate us.”

My stomach twists, and I glance at Ethan, whose easy grin is gone, replaced by a serious expression. He steps away from the wall and perches on the armrest of the couch, his amber eyes locking onto mine.

“They’ve been getting bolder,” Ethan says, his tone low and charged. “This… what happened to Sam… it’s just the beginning. They’re not playing games anymore, Olivia. They want us gone. All of us.”

A chill runs through me, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to process what they’re saying. This isn’t just some isolated incident. This is a war—one I didn’t even know existed.

“Why?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why would they do that?”

Chloé sighs, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Fear. Prejudice. Power. Take your pick. They see us as monsters, as something unnatural. They don’t understand that we just want to live our lives, just like anyone else.”

Ethan leans forward, his expression softer now. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Trust me, I’ve seen that look on a lot of faces. But you’re safe here. Derek wouldn’t have brought you if he didn’t think so.”

At the mention of Derek, my chest tightens. Safe. The word feels hollow in the face of everything I’ve just learned. If hunters are out there—if they’re willing to do that to someone like Sam—how can anyone be safe? And Derek… he’s been living in this danger every day, carrying it without ever letting me see the weight of it.

“If this is what Derek deals with all the time…” I trail off, my thoughts spiraling. “How does he handle it?”

Ethan chuckles, though there’s no humor in it. “Derek? He handles it by being a stubborn, overprotective pain in the ass.”

Chloé smirks, but her eyes are kind as she looks at me. “He’s one of the strongest people I know, but he carries a lot of responsibility. Too much, if you ask me. He doesn’t like letting people in—it’s his way of protecting them.”

Her words hit me harder than I expect. Derek’s protectiveness isn’t new; it’s been there since the day we met, always hovering at the edges of our interactions, unspoken but undeniable. But now, knowing what he’s been shielding me from, it feels… different. Bigger. More personal.

My gaze drifts toward the hallway where he disappeared, the memory of his voice in the truck replaying in my mind. “I’m trying to keep you safe. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.” There was something raw in his tone, something that felt like more than just duty. And the way he looked at me, like I was both the reason for his resolve and the source of his torment…

I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts. This isn’t the time to dissect whatever complicated emotions are swirling between us. But even as I tell myself to focus, my chest tightens with an unfamiliar mix of worry and longing. I’ve always thought of Derek as this unshakeable force, but now I see the cracks—the weight he carries, the sacrifices he’s made. And for the first time, I wonder if I’ve been blind to something that’s been there all along.

“You love him,” Chloé says softly, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.

I blink, startled. “What? No—I mean, of course I love him. He’s… he’s Derek. He’s always been there for me.”

Chloé’s smile is small but knowing. “It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words don’t come. Because deep down, I know she’s right. Derek isn’t just my protector. He’s the man I’m in love with. The realization has been there for a while now, growing quietly in my heart, even as I’ve tried to ignore it. And the thought terrifies me as much as it thrills me—especially now, with the hunters out there, threatening everything he stands for.