Healing My Seven Broken Beast Mates

Jayla ignored Riona's protective stance. Her gaze locked onto the trembling Jordi, her eyes sharp and commanding. "You can't stay here in this condition," Jayla said, her voice calm but carrying the weight of an absolute order. She didn't seek his agreement; she was assessing a casualty. Riona snarled, raising her broken bone spike again. "Shut up! You ruined him!" Jayla's eyes narrowed. She flicked a finger. A wall of solid Aether-wind erupted from the ground, slamming into Riona and shoving her back several steps. The wind pinned her in place, rendering her unable to move. Jayla took a step forward, towering over the siblings. She looked at Riona's desperate, protective stance, and then at Jordi's shattered, trembling form. The words she wanted to use—logic, facts, reassurances—died in her throat. She knew from her operative training that in the face of such profound, visceral trauma, any verbal explanation from the mouth of an abuser was just another form of torture. To discuss his fertility, or lack thereof, right now would only serve as the ultimate humiliation. She remembered her earlier realization: brute force would never bridge the chasm of hate between them. However, as an operative, she also knew that psychological healing could not begin until the physical hemorrhage stopped. She couldn't win his heart right now, but she could save his life. With a heavy sigh of resignation toward the inevitable friction this would cause, she bent down and grabbed a fistful of Jordi's tattered, filthy shirt. Despite his frantic struggles, she hauled him up with the raw strength of a high-level operative. "Let go of me!" Jordi panicked, slapping at her arms. He even tried to bite her hand. Jayla easily dodged his teeth, her expression remaining neutral despite the assault. She half-dragged, half-carried his thrashing body back into the cave. Riona pounded uselessly against the wind wall outside, screaming her brother's name. Jayla glanced back at the cave entrance. With a subtle flick of her wrist, she dispelled the wind wall. "Take your weapon and go," Jayla commanded, her voice echoing with a chilling finality. "I have no interest in killing you today." Riona stumbled forward as the barrier vanished, her eyes wide with a mixture of fury and utter helplessness. She looked at her brother's disappearing form, then at Jayla; the sheer gap in their power was a wall more impenetrable than the wind, leaving her with no choice but to retreat into the shadows, sobbing in silent rage. The moment they crossed the threshold, Jordi stopped struggling. He stared, his mouth hanging open. The cave was still damp and grey, but the immediate area had been transformed. Using the high-efficiency cleaning agents and portable gear from her operative kit, Jayla had quickly cleared a space. A sterile, silver-grey thermal mat was spread across the dirt floor, and a few portable glow-spheres hovered near the ceiling, casting a soft, clinical light over the area. The air no longer smelled of rot, neutralized by a faint, chemical scent of antiseptic. Jayla dumped him unceremoniously onto the thermal mat. Jordi let out a grunt as he bounced on the synthetic surface. The impact caused his ruined tail to flop onto the pristine white medical sheets Jayla had layered on top. A stark, bloody smear immediately stained the fabric. Jordi recoiled as if burned. He scrambled to the corner of the mat, trying to hide his filthy, bleeding body from the clean sheets. He looked like a stray dog that had just been thrown into a bathtub. Jayla sighed. She walked to the edge of the bed and reached for the stiff, dirty animal skin draped over his shoulders. "You need to get cleaned up." The moment her fingers brushed his skin, Jordi let out a piercing scream. It wasn't a sound of pain; it was a sound of pure, unadulterated terror. A flashback to every time those hands had hurt him. He exploded with a strength born of sheer panic. He shoved Jayla away with both hands, the force catching her off guard. Jayla stumbled backward, her back hitting the stone wall. She frowned, rubbing her shoulder. Jordi took the opportunity to roll off the mat. He hit the floor and scrambled away, wedging himself into a narrow crevice in the rock wall at the very back of the cave. It was a space barely big enough for one person. He curled into a ball, his arms wrapped tightly around his head. His body shook violently. "Don't touch me... please don't touch me..." he whimpered, the words muffled against his knees. Jayla stood there, staring at the bloody stain on the white sheets and the trembling figure in the crack of the wall. The frustration in her chest curdled into a heavy, sinking feeling of defeat. She had made a mistake. She had tried to apply operative logic to a psychological wound. Efficiency and force didn't work here. To a victim of severe abuse, a forced kindness was just another form of assault. The mission wasn't about forcing a mating; it was about healing. And healing required patience, not a battering ram. Jayla took a deep breath. She took a deliberate step back, putting more distance between herself and the crevice. She had to change tactics.