Predatory

ZOE POV

“Well, Miss Sukoshku, I’d say you’re all clear to get out of bed and start exploring the Underground,” Sasha’s main doctor declares, “just so long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sasha smiles. It’s that pained half-smile that means she’s violently conflicted inside, as she has been since she started being conscious for more than fifteen minutes at a time, a couple days ago. Nothing Rika or Drake or I have said to her seems to have made much of a difference, and I’m damn worried about her.

“Doctor, would you mind giving us a list of activities you would define as stupid for someone in Sasha’s condition?” Rika inquires, professional and no-nonsense as ever.

“That won’t be necessary, Doctor,” Sasha argues. “Just…do you think it’s safe for me to do a bit of training? Not all out, but just to try and sharpen back up?”

The doctor glances nervously between the three of us. “Well. I don’t know what level of training is typical for operatives of your caliber. But you should definitely start slow, and if you get dizzy or the bandaged places start to hurt, stop immediately.”

“We’ll keep a very close eye on her, Doctor,” I assure him. “I assume, if she needs to be so careful, that going back to HQ is—”

“Out of the question for at least a few more days,” the Doctor confirms without letting me finish. “I’ll be speaking with Commander Baryshnikov about that directly. I assume he’ll want to meet with you soon, Miss Sukoshku. Where should I tell him to look for you?”

“Our lycan friends have been making great use of the training area at the end of this corridor,” Rika replies. “I think that’s a good place for us to go, to start out. Nice and close to Sasha’s little sanctuary here in case something goes wrong.”

“And I’m sure the guys would love to hear your good news, Sasha,” I add. Especially Drake. I didn’t think him taking such an interest in Sasha would be a good thing, but as I’ve gotten to know him a bit, I honestly think he’d be really good for her, if she could just get over all of her hangups about relationships.

Then again, if I were in her shoes…I can’t imagine trying to resolve things with Rika before knowingly heading into what would probably become my own execution.

“Sure,” Sasha agrees. There’s that conflicted look again.

“Very well then. I’ll just be off to see Commander Baryshnikov. Do be careful, Miss Sukoshku,” the doctor admonishes as he takes his leave. As soon as the door closes behind him, Sasha gets out of bed and stretches, slowly, carefully, testing her muscles.

“Fucking hell,” she grumbles. “Take a few days off and everything stiffens up and goes to shit, like crusty old rubber bands.”

“You’ll be back to your usual self in a few days,” Rika assures her. “What do you think? Based on the guys’ showing of their skill from that morning in the field when you pretended to suck at martial arts, do you think training with them will be sufficiently low impact?”

“If they’re ever gonna have a shot at beating me, now’s the time to spar with them.”

“Do you honestly think they can?” I ask.

“No. But they’ve at least got a chance today. I don’t know, though. It might be too much of an embarrassment, to let them see—”

“Oh, do not even with that bullshit!” Rika snaps. “They all know full well you’re recovering from injuries. Fuck it, blame me for holding you to the doctor’s rule about not doing stupid shit, on the off chance that any of them are foolish enough to say anything rude.”

“Hey, easy there, babe,” I intervene. “No sense arguing about it. Let’s just head down to the training area, all right? I think the guys are down there now.” Callum and Xander said something to me, right before I came into Sasha’s room this morning, about taking Drake down there to try to distract him from worrying about Sasha, but that’s not something I need to say out loud.

Once we get Sasha changed into leggings and a loose tunic top, we make our way down the corridor to the training area. The sounds of the guys’ sparring echo off the stone walls. I was worried that Sasha would need to take it slow, or be unsteady on her feet, after so long laid up, but she’s moving like a predator on the prowl, with no signs of weakness. Maybe the doctors have just been extra careful with her, and she could have gotten up before now? I wonder. It would make sense, since she’s the head of WASP special ops now. Or maybe she’s just trying to save face in front of the guys.

“Hey, look who’s been let outta her cage,” Callum greets us. Xander and Drake drop their sparring match and turn towards us, surprise etched into their features.

“You’ve been cleared for normal activities?” Drake inquires, practically bounding over to Sasha.

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” she hedges, finding the floor easier to look at than his face.

“The doctor specifically said she needs to start slow, if she’s going to train, and that she’s not allowed to do stupid stuff,” Rika adds.

“Right. Sounds perfect,” Xander smirks, malice glinting in his eyes.

“Xander,” Callum warns. “We ain’t gonna screw up her recovery.”

“Who said anything about that? I just meant maybe we can spar with her without being made to look like total amateurs.”

Sure you did.

“Maybe. Rika and I are gonna sit on the sidelines, but we’ll jump right in if we think things are getting out of hand,” I warn them. “Sasha, remember what the doctor said.”

“Right, right. No stupid stuff,” she mutters. “How long have you guys been training here?”

“Hmmmm…’bout half an hour, more or less,” Callum answers with a glance at his watch. “You’re more than welcome to a warm-up, before we start—”

“I think that sequence Drake was trying to teach me the other day in that field at Blendon would make a fine warm-up. If you’re up for it, Drake.”

“Um. Sure. Whatever you want,” Drake agrees.

“Right, then. Xander, you down to—” Callum offers, dropping the sentence as he dodges a flurry of punches from his mohawk-sporting friend.

“This ought to be fun to watch,” I whisper to Rika as we settle on a bench at the side of the training area, which has plenty of room for both pairs to spar without interfering with one another, and more space to spare. I’m a bit surprised we’re the only ones down here. I would have thought more of Samson’s revolutionaries would want to use this place. Maybe the Underground is home to other training areas more popular than this one.

“All right. You ready?” Sasha asks Drake.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But we can find out.”

Sasha takes this as permission to start a very simple martial arts sequence, something she would have learned when she was, like, eleven. Drake matches her easily enough, but he’s surprised and anxious, watching her flow smoothly and gracefully through the moves.

“Her acting the last time he saw her do this was very convincing,” Rika murmurs. “I almost believed she had no prior martial arts experience.”

“It feels so good to be out of bed and moving again,” Sasha remarks. She doesn’t even sound out of breath. “Are you good to take things up a notch?”

“How intense do you think you can go before it qualifies as doing something stupid?” Drake responds.

“Oh, let’s just go a little at a time. Unless you’re afraid.”

“I’m worried about you, not about me.”

“That sounded a lot like a challenge.”

Uh-oh.

“Rika. Do you think we should…?” I wonder.

“Not yet. Drake’s the one who did something stupid, and we’re not policing him,” Rika points out.

“I didn’t mean—” Drake protests, but it’s too late. Sasha’s ramped things up considerably, but she’s not moving anywhere close to top speed or trying moves that would put her injuries in danger of reopening. Even so, I’m on the edge of my seat, driving my nails into the soft wood of the bench. Be careful, Sasha.

Drake fumbled a bit at the change in intensity, but now he’s matching Sasha again. His face is contorted between concern and wonder, with good reason; for all Sasha was worried about not being at her best, she’s moving like she was never hurt, all fluid feline grace with tight control.

“Is this the best you can do?” Sasha taunts. She should know better than to use that sexy voice, especially with him. I glance at Rika, but she doesn’t look nearly as concerned as I feel.

“Hey, you’re the one recovering from life-threatening injuries. You get to set the pace,” Drake protests.

“Try me. We’re not pushing my limits so far.”

“You can jump a couple belt levels,” Rika calls in response to Drake’s questioning look.

“All right, fine,” Drake grumbles. He still looks worried, but Sasha’s not giving him any room to question his decisions. He’s fast, faster than I expected. I know the guys said he was their fastest, but hot damn. It’s not just anyone who can keep up with Sasha. Granted, she’s still not pushing top speed, but she’s moving way quicker than she was at the start and he’s still matching her move for move. Xander and Callum have noticed and are taking a breather to watch Drake and Sasha. Xander looks grudgingly impressed, while Callum seems to be taking notes in his head. It’s definitely a match worth watching, swift and fluid with no mistakes on either side. But while Drake is completely invested in matching Sasha move for move, Sasha is constantly glancing at her audience, watchful and calculating. I don’t like that look in her eyes. It’s almost like—

Without warning, Sasha leaps over Drake’s head—her vertical leap is insane—and then knocks his legs out from under him. He hits the ground hard, winded, gasping.

“Hey, what the hell?!” Xander demands.

“You wanna go?” she retorts, all vicious fire. What the hell triggered this? What’s she thinking about?

“You’ll wish we hadn’t.” Two seconds later, he joins Drake on the floor, eyes bugged out and gawping like a fish out of water from pain; Sasha hit him with a brutal throat punch-roundhouse kick combo.

“What about you, Callum?”

“No way,” he replies, hands up and head shaking as he backs away. “You’ve made your point.”

Sasha smiles, completely dropping out of assassin mode, and then offers Drake a hand up. “Thank you. This has been fun. It’s nice to know I’ve still got it.”

“Was that ever in doubt?” Drake inquires. He accepts her hand and then he’s on his feet, eyes locked with Sasha’s.

“Well. I’m not sure how long I’ve been laid up. But it takes a toll, you know. The injuries, and all the time not training.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Goddamn,” Xander chokes out from the floor.

“Yo, man, you brought this on yourself,” Callum scolds, though he’s helping his foolish friend to his feet.

“Seems I’ve gotten here just in time,” Samson’s voice remarks ominously from the doorway. “Sasha, good t’ see ya on yer feet again. Y’all ain’t been doin’ nothin’ stupid, have ya?”

“Other than challenging Sasha, no,” Rika confirms. “Zoe and I have been supervising.”

“Glad t’ hear it. But I’m afraid it’s time y’all took a break,” Samson commands. “Sasha, if ya please, I’d like ya t’ join me in my office.”

“Certainly, Commander. But Drake comes with us,” Sasha replies, formal but firm.

Samson arches an eyebrow. “Can’t see why ya think that’s necessary. But I’ll humor ya. Ya both can come with me. Now.”

Uh oh. What’s going on? And why haven’t Rika and I been invited?

No chance to ask. Without any hesitation or further explanation, Sasha and Drake both follow Samson out.

I guess we’ll just have to find out later. Unless Rika has a way to eavesdrop on them.