My fingers find her chin, tilting her face up so I can assess the damage.
Her skin is cold. Clammy. She's going into shock.
"You're safe now," I tell her. My voice comes out rough, raw in a way I didn't intend. "You hear me? You're safe."
"I didn't know where else to go." Her words are slurred, her split lip making it hard to talk. "I thought maybe—I didn't?—"
"You came to the right place."
I straighten up, keeping one hand on her shoulder.
She leans into the touch like she's starving for it.
Like no one's touched her gently in so long she's forgotten what it feels like.
"Listen to me," I say, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "This woman is under the club's protection now. Undermyprotection. Anyone has a problem with that, they can take it up with me."
Silence.
No one has a problem with it. No one would dare.
I look back down at Ripley.
She's staring up at me with tears streaming from her one good eye, mixing with the blood on her face, and I feel something shift in my chest.
"He won't touch you again," I tell her. "I promise."
"Why?" The word is barely a whisper. "Why are you doing this?"
I don't have an answer. Not one that makes sense.
"Because I can," I say finally. "Because someone should."
Tawny returns with the first aid kit, Paige trailing behind with a glass of water and a pile of clean towels.
I step back, letting them work, but I don't leave.
I stand there watching as they clean the blood from her face, as they press ice against her swollen eye, as they murmur soft words of comfort that I don't know how to give.
She keeps looking at me.
Every few seconds, her gaze finds mine, like she's checking to make sure I'm still there.
Like she's afraid I'll disappear.
I don't move.
Later, when she's cleaned up and settled in one of the spare rooms upstairs, I find Zenon in the hallway.
He doesn't look surprised. He looks resigned.
"Let me guess," he says. "You're going to handle this personally."
"Yes."
"Not Behemoth. Not a club decision. You."
"Yes."
