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~ ZEV ~

When the howl rose in the distance, Zev swallowed hard, heart thumping in his ears.

They knew he was coming. They knew his mate was here, and their son—or they would, soon enough.

Did a baby release as much scent as an adult? Were they less likely to scent Zan? Zev hoped so.

Swallowing down the clench of fear in his gut, he started forward, eyes sharp on the treeline, waiting for the inevitable shadows that would appear before his people…

They would rush him, he realized, and he had to stifle a shudder.

Among the Chimeran wolves, greetings after a long absence were… enthusiastic. The males would approach first to test his scent and share theirs. He would be wrestled and pressed and touched and buried under a pack.

.....

His entire body went rigid and his breath got short.

“Zev?” Sasha whispered, stepping up to his elbow.

“I’m fine,” he said, his tone short and cold. Of course, her scent didn’t change. She was worried about him. He needed to reassure her. Shit. What was wrong with him?

Skhal watched him closely, also unsmiling. But Zev plowed forward. He needed to get this over with.

‘Stay at the back and watch for Sasha. I don’t want them knocking her over with the baby,’ he sent to Skhal alone. Sasha would, he knew, be angry that he’d even think it. But she hadn’t been through this kind of thing before. Her will was so strong, she often forgot how much weaker she was physically than the Chimera.

A niggling thought fluttered in the back of his mind—that the Anima probably hadn’t realized how weak she was either, that that may have been part of why she was thrown down when she held Zan—but he growled and pushed it away.

There was no excuse.

They’d been brought to this place to find safety from the humans. Walking into the jaws of other shifters was just out of the frying pan and into the fire. It was up to him to fix this. Now. No one could be safe until he did.

And that started with gathering his people back to him.

Another howl rose—joyous and excited—Lhars. His brother. His brother who he’d left at the summit of the hierarchy while he was gone.

His brother who he’d only found peace with in recent weeks.

His brother who had always been ambitious.

Would Lhars want to give up the power he’d enjoyed in the past three months?

Zev supposed he was about to find out.

“Sasha, stay back and keep Zan safe until they’ve calmed down,” he muttered, then leaped into a run, shifting into his wolf because somehow it seemed less threatening to meet the pack that way.

Pushing himself, pushing away thoughts of fear, he raced down into the clearing below just as the first of the shadows appeared in the thinner forest on the other side.

There was the slightest flutter of warmth in his chest when he saw them coming for him—eyes bright, heads thrown back to howl and call. But even he was surprised by how detached he felt.

This should have been his moment of greatest triumph. Even in the face of his imprisonment, this was the moment he’d envisioned again and again, vowing to himself and to the Creator that he would reach them, protect them… and here he was.

As the pack descended on him, howling, barking—half shifted into their wolves, half staying in human form—he should have been yipping in delight.

Instead, adrenaline crashed through his system as they surrounded him, plowing into him, rubbing against him, jaws open and mouths wide to taste his scent, howls and barks rising in a cloud as they writhed and leaped over each other, each of them rushing to touch, to scent, to get close and test that this was, indeed, their Alpha returned.

His wounds from the bindings at wrists and ankles were almost healed in his human form—the Anima had fed him enough to keep his system functioning efficiently. The pink, tender skin in his human form was less noticeable in his wolf. But they scented it on him—the echo of blood and pain.

Some of those yips were indignant. Others angry. Some noses pressed to his wounds, others nudged his ears, neck, shoulders. The pack rushed him, tails whipping, ears perked, bodies piling closer until Zev couldn’t do anything but work to keep his feet as more and more of the pack arrived, and he was pummeled and jostled until he almost fell.

He growled when his lungs grew tight, but the sound was buried under the calling and barking of the pack, only those wolves closest to him hesitating, checking his posture and submitting to calm him.

Then the scent of his brother hit the back of his throat and Zev found his body doing war with itself—half of him rushed with love and gratitude, with relief. The other half tense and alert, ready to meet a challenge.

He lifted his head, looking for Lhars. But just then one of the younger males, overcome with the thrill of it all, lost his head and leaped over Zev’s back, yipping his excitement.

Zev gave a vicious snarl and whirled, teeth snapping a hairsbreadth from the male’s neck.

The entire pack sank back, away, the young male yelping and dropping to his side in the grass, licking his lips in submission, pleading for mercy.

I am young, his posture said. I made a mistake. Forgive me. I submit.

Zev stood over him in his wolf, chest heaving, hackles high and teeth bared as the rest of the pack backed away to give them space.

As Alpha it was his due to discipline any wolf he chose, to draw the boundaries as clearly and tightly as he deemed right.

He could kill this pup and while they might grieve, they wouldn’t condemn him for it.

He was Alpha.

It was his right.

Zev took a small step toward the young male, images of his own wrath dancing in his head.

Then he stopped.

Had he really just considered killing an adolescent who’d lost their head in a greeting pile?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He stopped, shivering, made himself turn away from the young male, ignore him—tacit permission to return to his feet and join the pack again now that the boundary had been set.

But Zev’s head was spinning. For a moment he wanted to flee, to drop his haunches and run. Be free. Be alone. Away from this pup, all of the pack.

When had he ever wanted that?

He turned again, searching for Sasha, finding her standing a dozen feet from the pack, staring at him with an expression of deep worry on her face.

His mate. His son. He had to remember—

“Zev?”

Zev’s heart stopped as he turned to find his brother, in human form, standing just feet away, eyes silvered with tears, but his face—so similar to Zev’s own—expressionless. His eyes locked on Zev and searching.

For greeting? Or challenge?

Whichever it was, Zev still retained enough respect for his brother to finally shift back to his human form, though it left him feeling more vulnerable.

They stood just feet apart, facing each other and all around them, the pack went slowly silent as Zev lowered his chin and didn’t drop eye-contact.