When they'd finally wheeled her in, Teja immediately recognized the Gear on the stretcher, under the thin white sheet that covered her modesty. He looked straight over to CD and heaved a rumbling sigh, "That's Layla, she's Charles' secretary. Goddammit," he growled, rubbing his face before stepping over to gingerly inspect the damage as they wheeled her into a room, waiting for the trauma team to show up. "Good girl," he muttered, "Fought back, used your nails." When she tried to talk, he hushed her, and leaned away to grab a small towel to tenderly wipe the blood away, "don't talk yet, kid." He noticed the broken wrist and the mauled, yet still-pretty face, and the way that she'd come in covered. This wasn't a wolf attack, this was a personal, clearly sexual encounter.
Once the medical team stepped in, he barked, "Get a rape kit, she fought back, there's tissue under her nails. Be careful with her, or I swear to you that it'll be your head." He looked down at her with a quiet, sympathetic look in his eyes, "You're safe now, Perez. Just rest and let them do their thing. I'll be in the waiting room." He stepped aside to let the doctors buzz around her and went to collect his thoughts.
For the moment, he was keeping the urge to personally track down the person responsible down. What needed to be done is to get her stable and fixed up, to alert Charles, and to make sure that this was by the book.