She hesitates, then slowly lifts the hem of her shirt just enough to reveal her left side. I hear Tank's sharp intake of breath at the same moment my own jaw clenches.
Her torso is a mosaic of bruises in various stages of healing. Yellow and green fading ones overlaid with fresh purple and blue marks. The most distinctive is a boot print stamped across her rib cage, the tread pattern clearly visible in the bruised flesh.
"Jesus Christ," Tank mutters.
She quickly lowers her shirt, her face flushed with shame.
"That needs to be wrapped," I say, keeping my voice level despite the rage building inside me. "And you need ice for the swelling."
"I'll get the med kit," Tank says, already moving toward the door.
There's a new tightness in his voice that I recognize. The sound of Tank's poorly concealed anger.
When he's gone, Claire sits on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast.
"I shouldn't have come here," she says quietly. "I'm causing trouble."
"You're not," I assure her. "But you should eat something. Food will help."
She picks up the sandwich and takes a small bite. I lean against the wall, giving her space.
"The guy who did that," I say, nodding toward her ribs. "He important in town?"
She pauses mid-bite. "Why?"
"Just trying to gauge the situation. If he's some random asshole, that's one thing. If he's connected, that's another."
She sets the sandwich down. "He has... friends."
"What kind of friends?"
She looks away. "The kind you don't want to mess with."
Great. Connected. That complicates things.
Tank returns with the medical kit and a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. "Eat first," he tells her. "Then we'll wrap those ribs."
She nods and continues picking at the sandwich. Tank pulls me aside, his voice low.
"King needs to know about this first thing tomorrow," he says. "If her ex is connected and comes looking, we need to be prepared."
"I know," I agree. "I'll talk to him."
"And she needs to tell us exactly who we're dealing with," Tank adds. "Full disclosure."
I nod, glancing back at Claire. She's watching us, eyes wary, body tense. She knows we're talking about her.
"We'll sort it tomorrow," I say to Tank. "Let her rest tonight."
Tank stares at me for a moment, then nods. "Your call. But this is on you until King weighs in."
"Understood."
Tank approaches Claire again. "Finish eating, then Rage will help you wrap those ribs. Ice for twenty minutes, then off for twenty. Repeat if you can stay awake."
"Thank you," she says softly.
Tank gives her a curt nod, then turns to me. "I'm heading out. Beast and Shadow are on perimeter tonight. Check in with them if you leave."
