7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

L ash

Marissa is a gentle, no-nonsense nurse who’s done wonders for the clinic here in the Zone. It had been a pit, staffed by humans who were siphoning pain drugs and reselling them even as they provided sub-par care for their patients. She didn’t hesitate a minute before hurrying to my apartment.

Although I tried to leave the room so the two women could talk, Zoya begged me to stay. I keep my back turned while Marissa takes pictures, but my blood boils as I hear every word.

“This won’t take but a few moments, Zoya. Could you lift your left arm so I can get a picture of the bruise on your ribs?”

My vision goes hazy as I picture choking Max.

“And turn around so I can get the… oh my god, is that a footprint ?… on your bottom.”

I can’t control the growl that bursts from my lips. It’s all I can do not to turn to look, half wondering if the picture in my mind is worse than reality. My hands are balled into tight fists, my claws digging into my palms as I fight the urge to sniff the male out and make him pay.

“Zoya, can I ask Lash to go to his bedroom? Just for a minute?”

“No? Please?”

“Zoya,” Marissa’s voice is a whisper. “I need to ask if there is any… damage between your legs. It might be better if Lash doesn’t hear.”

Marissa’s mate is an orc. She’s lived in the Zone for over a year. She has to know all Others have superior hearing. If that didn’t give it away, my whimper and yip of pain at my powerlessness must have told them both that I heard every word.

“No. Nothing there.”

As Zoya gets dressed, a plan forms in my mind. I’m going to get some other Wolven Warriors and we’re going to pay Max a visit. No Other has killed anyone, Other or human, since we arrived on Earth. I think I’m going to be the first.

“I have a friend from undergrad,” Marissa explains when we’re sitting at the table, sipping coffee. “I went into nursing. She happens to be an immigration attorney. I’m going to call her and see if she can tell us how to proceed to deal with your issues and keep you here and safe in the U.S.”

Zoya is even quieter than usual. She simply nods.

“In the meantime, Lash, maybe you could keep her occupied? She’s wound so tight. Could you help her relax? I’ll be in touch.”

I’m filled with guilt at the inappropriate pictures flying through my mind of how I could help Zoya relax. Luckily, by the time Marissa leaves, I’ve pushed those ideas far away.

When the door clicks shut, I ask Zoya, “Marissa’s right. It’s best to keep you busy having fun. What do you like to do?”

Instead of her face brightening, it squeezes in pain.

“It was the one thing Max did that he promised. The day I arrived, he gave me a puppy. Little Miska is still at our apartment. She was the only thing that kept me sane.”

The earthy musk of her sorrow slams into me and takes my mind off killing Max.

“What hours does Max work? I’ll do everything in my power to get your dog, Zoya. Today.”