The damage hits harder.
Her skin is too pale. Shadows sit beneath her eyes like bruises. Exhaustion clings to every inch of her body, dragging her posture down even while she forces herself upright.And then there’s her throat. Anger flashes so violently through me my vision nearly whites out. Bruises ring the base of her neck in dark red and purple marks. Angry indentations from the collar cut across her skin, raw in places where the metal must’ve rubbed.
My jaw locks so hard it hurts. I force my breathing even.
Not now.
She needs steady. Not violent. One hand stays firm at her waist while the other slides carefully to the back of her neck, avoiding the bruised skin as much as I can. “Doc.”
I don’t say it loud. Don’t need to.
The room reacts instantly anyway because everybody hears what’s underneath it.
Doc is already moving before the word fully leaves my mouth.
Olivia stiffens. It’s small. Most people probably wouldn’t catch it.
I do.
Her body tightens against mine the second another person starts closing distance, survival instinct firing before her brain catches up. I shift automatically. One step. Just enough to put myself slightly between her and the room without isolating her from it. Protection. Not confinement.
Doc slows when he reaches us, eyes moving over her carefully. He’s smart enough not to crowd her. Smart enough not to pity her. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says gently. “Let me take a look at you.”
“I’m fine.” The response comes too fast.Automatic. Not true.
My hand flexes against her waist. She’s not fine. Not even fucking close.
Doc clearly knows it too, but he doesn’t push. “Mmhm,” he says. “Humor me anyway.”
Olivia finally lifts her head enough to look at him, though one hand stays twisted tightly in the front of my cut.
Doc reaches carefully toward her throat. She flinches before he even touches her. Barely noticeable. Still there. I feel something ugly shift inside me. Doc notices too, but all he does is lower his hand slightly. “I’m just checking the bruising.”
She nods once. Rigid.
He examines the marks with practiced calm while the room stays unnaturally quiet around us. Nobody’s pretending things are normal. Nobody’s trying to fill the silence.
There’s nothing normal about any of this.
Doc’s expression darkens slightly as he studies the bruising. “Collar?”
Olivia swallows hard. “Yeah.”
His jaw tightens, but he keeps his tone level. “Any trouble breathing?”
“No.”
“Dizziness?”
“Not really.”
“Headaches?”
She hesitates. “Some.”
Doc nods once. “You’re going to have bruising for a while. Probably soreness swallowing too.” His eyes move over her face again. “Anything else hurt?” The question hangs. Too broad. Too loaded.
Olivia’s body goes tighter against mine instead of answering.
