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Zaxx did not, so he shook his head.
“She’s saying not to run off and enact some huge revenge scheme like you’re the one hurt,” Gia said quietly. “This is not about you.”
One thing he knew for sure: Zelda would want him to take that revenge. He’d been fighting her fights since she was in kindergarten. But he had no intention of engaging that topic with Tasha and Gia; it would do nothing but delay the information he needed and make him even crazier than he felt already.
“Just fuckin’ tell me. All your warnings are gonna make me lose my shit before you’ve told me anything.”
Tasha glanced at Gia—why?—then back to Zaxx. “Stop me when you don’t want to hear more.”
Zaxx nodded. He didn’t want to hear any of it, but he would hear the whole thing.
“Obviously she was beaten,” Tasha began. “She has a mild concussion, and I sutured three deep lacerations on her face—nose, lips, and left cheek. Her left orbital bone—her eye socket—has a fracture. It’s hairline, so as long as she doesn’t get hit in the face again for the next six weeks or so, it’ll heal fine without any further intervention. You saw the bite marks. There are dozens, and the bruising is deep, but only two broke the skin. Her ribs are bruised and strained, but not broken. The orbital bone is the only fracture. She told me about roller derby, and I told her she’s sidelined from that for at least six weeks. I’d actually rather she sit out the rest of this season, but six weeks will do as a minimum.”
Zaxx almost smiled at the mention of derby. That Zelda had brought it up during her exam was the best indication his baby sister hadn’t been permanently broken by this attack. She wanted her life back.
What Tasha said next killed a smile before it could shape his mouth. He’d thought he was ready to hear it, but he was not.
“She was raped.” That short declarative sentence was like a left jab to his chest. “By two men.” He took a right to his gut. As Zaxx reeled, buffeted by the blows and his anger flowing like blood, Tasha continued, “I took samples and photos, for evidence if she changes her mind about the hospital, or if she takes a turn more serious than I can handle here. The hospital will have to call law. Though that would be problematic in Zelda’s case.”
“Why?” As Zaxx asked, the answer began to assemble in his mind, and his limbs began to shake. From light-years away, he felt Gia scoot closer and set her hand on his shoulder. He still held her, but now she was holding him as well—and maybe restraining him a little.
Tasha gave him the same answer he’d put together. “She says at least one of the men was a cop. She knew him. They were masked, balaclavas, but she knew his voice. He was wearing an elaborate cast on his arm. He hit her with it; that’s how her orbital was broken.”
Danvers.
Danvers had done this. Zaxx had broken his hand for putting that hand up Zelda’s skirt, and now that fat-assed piece of shit had retaliated and done so much worse to her.
And that made it Zaxx’s fault, didn’t it?
He released Gia’s arm, put both his hands on his head, and curled over his lap. It was his fault. He hadn’t kept her safe; he’d put her in danger.
“Do you want me to stop?” Tasha asked quietly.
“No,” he said without lifting his head. “Tell me it all.”
The women around him were quiet for a while. A minute or two, maybe longer. Time had moved oddly since he’d gathered Zelda from his sofa, and he had no idea where they were in the day or night.
Gia scooted closer again, until her thigh pressed on his, and she slipped her arm around his. Again, at her touch he felt his mind find solid ground.
Tasha said, “I’m going to tell you this next part because it’s important that Zelda take care of herself, and I think somebody who’s going to help her with that needs to know. And she told me I could tell you ‘whatever.’ So. Zaxx, look at me, please.”
Only willpower brought his head up. Tasha had leaned in, resting her elbows on her knees. She stared hard at him, and he felt her willing him to focus and be calm.
“They used a nightstick as well as ... themselves. There’s significant vaginal and vulval trauma. There is also anal trauma. I’ve sutured the tears and she’ll heal fine, as long as she follows my instructions for how to care for the sutures and what she can and cannot do until she’s healed.”
“Jesus,” Gia muttered.
Zaxx barely heard her. He felt like he was barely still in this room. A nightstick? Anal trauma? How could he have fucked everything up so badly? How could he make it right? How could Zelda ever forgive him, ever trust him again?
“Where did they get her?” he asked, trying to see what he’d missed, where he’d failed.
“She didn’t offer that information, and I don’t ask that question. I don’t ask where she was, what she was doing, anything that might suggest she put herself in a position to be hurt. Nothing she could possibly have done, nowhere she could possibly have been, will serve as an answer, because nothing she did, nowhere she was, is a reason for the attack. I’m only interested in what was done to her and how I can help her heal.”
Of course nothing Zelda had done could be a reason for this. What Zaxx had done—no! What he’d failed to do, was the reason. He’d broken Danvers’ hand.
He should have broken his fucking neck.
His anger, his shock, his guilt, his horror, it all merged together and became an alloy of vengeful determination. His limbs stilled, and his back straightened.
