~ SASHA ~

A murmur rippled through the men at the tables around Sasha and Yhet. With a warning look at Sasha not to move or speak to anyone, Yhet turned to scan and see what was happening. Sasha kept her eyes on him.

Then his brows rose.

"You can watch this part," he rumbled quietly, nodding to something behind them. "He's been acknowledged by Rayf."

Sasha whipped her head around, but had to stand to see over the men seated behind them.

Just as she got to her feet, a thick-set older man near the fire spat a curse and tossed aside a metal plate that clanged on the ground, wobbling on its rim until it hit a rock and slapped to the dirt, ignored by all the men around it.

Zev stood in front of him in a strange, black outfit—skin tight so it showed every ripple and ridge of his body in a way that made Sasha's heart beat faster. Even his feet were encased in something that looked like black socks with soles.

"What's he wearing?" she whispered to Yhet.

He shrugged. "My guess is something the humans gave him that will help him fight."

Zev said something to the older man and sank into a half-crouch, shoulder and hands loose, but held in front of his chest as if he were readying to block a blow—or throw one of his own.

The male in front of him growled a reply Sasha didn't catch and raised his hands as well and two began to circle each other.

Sasha's heart was in her throat—what if this guy had a knife? But then Zev flowed forward and Sasha's mouth went slack for an entirely different reason.

Zev fought like he was dancing, his body flowing from one movement to the next with a grace that belied the strength of his blows. Sasha heard the thwacks and thuds of fists finding their aim, but both men moved so quickly, limbs flying so fast they blurred—when she could see them move at all—that it was almost impossible to know who was being hit, and who was doing the hitting.

Zev's entire body looked slick in the strange black clothing. But as the two men darted forward and back, one advancing, then the other, the purpose of the thin, skin-tight clothing became clear.

The older man reached for Zev with a lightening hand, but Zev ducked and weaved so his opponent wasn't able to find a grip. Yet, the moment the older man was off balance, Zev got his hands fisted in the man's thick, fur jacket, and snapped him down as he brought his knee up in a swift strike.

The man groaned, but twisted out of Zev's grip, his hands looped around Zev's thigh and pulling up on his leg.

The two tumbled and twisted, their fists pummeling, both of them grunting as blows landed. Then they almost tripped into the fire and Sasha gasped.

Yhet took her wrist in his massive hand that covered half her forearm and tugged her back.

"You can watch, but you can't… support him."

"Why not?" she hissed.

"He isn't part of the pack again, yet. The wolves have to prioritize pack members. They'll be waiting until one of the higher wolves sees him. Until then… until then you have to just watch."

"But he's getting hurt!"

Yhet snorted. "That's nothing. He'll heal those bruises in hours. Don't worry about this one, worry about the fights to come with the higher ranked wolves. Rayf is older and not as fast as he used to be. He was always one of Zev's supporters. He's done Zev a favor by seeing him early—it lets Zev not have to work his way through the lower wolves. But it also means Rayf has to fight for real. He can't let Zev win. The pack needs to see him punished."

Sasha gripped the cuffs of her jacket and turned back just in time to see Zev thrown to the dirt. She gasped—and clapped her hands to her mouth when Yhet glared at her.

The following minutes were gut-wrenching. When Zev misjudged a swipe and got too close, his head snapped back as Rayf got a solid strike to his temple. Sasha felt every blow like it landed on her. Her eyes swam with tears before Zev finally flipped in an arcing kick that took Rayf at the chin and the older male fell to the dirt—and this time, didn't get up.

Zev stood over him, his shoulders heaving, hands loose at his sides, poised to move again. But the gray-haired man just rolled onto one elbow and shook his head, growling something Sasha couldn't make out.

Zev straightened, then took the final steps to stand right before the man, over his chest. Rayf dropped his chin and nodded and a moment later, Zev extended one of his hands to help him up.

Soon they were both on their feet, though the older man was clearly favoring one leg as Zev slapped him on the upper arm.

"Is that it? Are they done?" Sasha asked, her voice hushed in case she wasn't supposed to talk about it. But Yhet just nodded, his lips twisting up on one side.

"Yes, Rayf submitted," he said, getting to his feet. "Which is going to help Zev."

"Does that mean we can speak to him now?"

"No," Yhet said firmly, folding his arms across his chest. "Some of the lower-level wolves will acknowledge him, but he hasn't regained his standing. Now that we've witnessed the submission, we have to pretend he isn't here, Sasha. Turn away. Now."

Sasha was staring at Zev, silently begging him to look at her, but he never turned her direction. "Why won't he… why isn't he looking at me? Can he smell me from there? Does he know I'm here?"

Suddenly, Yhet was pulling gently on her arm, forcing her to turn away, and leaning down to speak to her in a whisper that sounded like a field of bumblebees swarmed around her. "He won't look at you, Sasha, because it would put you at risk. He wants to give no male any reason to lower your value in the hierarchy. Do you understand? He's helping you right now."

She took a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay."

Yhet's face got sad and he pulled her close, petting her hair again. It was something like being patted by a massive steak, though he was gentle. "Don't worry, Sasha. You've made him so happy coming here. It's what he always wished for. He'll get through this and he'll claim you. Don't worry."

She wasn't sure about the claiming part, but she prayed he was right about Zev getting through this. As Yhet let her go and she scanned the area, she was reminded of the time she'd been alongside the practice field full of a professional football team—everywhere she looked she had seen large, incredibly strong men who all stood and walked with that air that some men had where their strength was just accepted. A part of their lives, nothing to be remarked upon. She'd never been able to put her finger on it before, except that some men were so athletic, they moved differently. But now she saw it.

These weren't just men. These were warriors. And they were everywhere.

And Zev had to fight his way through them.

*****

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