Chapter eleven #2
Dr. Turner has the biggest office in the registry’s medical wing. Warm, with plants everywhere and a couch against the wall instead of those hard, uncomfortable chairs.
I sit on the couch and Gabriel waits outside.
Dr. Turner comes in, a familiar face I’m happy to see despite everything.
“Lily.” She smiles, real and soft. “What’s going on?”
So I tell her how I woke up. The headache.
How bad it was this time, that it made me throw up.
The mood swing—the crying, the restlessness.
That I’m having trouble sleeping. The trembling.
How my body is fighting itself. None of this is new, but the pain this morning was probably the worst it’s ever been.
She listens. She takes notes. She checks my blood pressure, heart rate, temperature. Draws blood. Shines a light in my eyes, frowns.
“And your suppressants?”
“The registry tapered me off when the Santos pack took me. They said taper, but it’s really cold turkey, basically. They said there was no point continuing if I was going to be placed soon. So they gave me enough for about three days and I haven’t had any since.”
“Cold turkey.” Dr. Turner keeps her tone neutral, which means she’s really pissed. “After years of continuous use.”
“They weren’t really working for me anymore anyway.”
“Still. That’s reckless.” She writes something down. “The headaches and mood swings are withdrawal. Your body’s been chemically suppressed for years, and now it’s being forced to recalibrate alone. It’s like turning off a ventilator and expecting someone to take a perfect breath.”
“Will it get better?”
“It’ll get worse before it gets better. Maybe a lot worse.” She puts her pen down. “Lily, I need to bring Mr. Santos in for the next part.”
My stomach drops. “Why?”
“Because as your temporary guardian, he has legal standing in your medical care. And what I need to recommend requires his cooperation.” She looks at me. “And, honestly, he needs to hear this from a doctor.”
“He’s not going to like it.”
“I rarely concern myself with what alphas like.” She stands. “Will you allow it?”
I want to say no. I want to keep Gabriel out of this, keep him away from my file, keep him at arm’s length. But Dr. Turner’s never steered me wrong, the headache is coming back and I’m too tired to fight.
“Fine.”
She opens the door. “Mr. Santos? Would you join us, please?”
Gabriel is on the couch across from me. He sits how he always does: straight-backed, careful, taking in the whole room. His scent fills the office, and my omega lurches. I grip the edge of the couch and breathe through my mouth.
“Thank you for bringing her in,” Dr. Turner says.
“I’ll be direct. Lily is experiencing acute suppressant withdrawal compounded by prolonged pheromone and touch deprivation.
In simpler terms, her body has been chemically suppressed for years, the suppressants have been abruptly removed, and the natural remedy for the resulting hormonal chaos—consistent alpha contact—is being withheld. ”
Gabriel’s face is very still. “I understand the situation.”
“With respect, Mr. Santos, I’m not sure you do.
” Dr. Turner leans in. “The headaches are going to escalate. The mood instability will worsen. She’ll develop insomnia, appetite loss, aches, and possibly pre-heat symptoms that her body won’t be able to resolve without alpha intervention.
If this continues unchecked, we’re looking at systemic breakdown within weeks. ”
“I understand,” Gabriel repeats. “That’s why we’re actively seeking a permanent pack placement for her.”
“And in the meantime?”
“She’s safe. She’s fed. She has shelter.”
“She’s deteriorating.” Dr. Turner is obviously trying to exercise restraint, but her annoyance creeps into her words regardless.
“The most effective treatment for what Lily is experiencing is direct, consistent contact with her scent-matched alphas. Touch, proximity, purring, physical comfort. These aren’t luxuries, Mr. Santos.
They’re medical necessities for any omega but especially one in her condition.
Her body recognizes your pack as the solution to the crisis it’s in.
Denying that contact is, medically speaking, allowing her condition to progress.
And dangling it in front of her is… I don’t know a nicer word for it than cruel. ”
“I have an omega.” Gabriel’s voice is held together with tape and good intentions, but it’s fraying at the edges.
“Miles. He’s been with my pack for three years.
He has severe trauma—more so than anything Lily is dealing with.
Their situations don’t even compare. Engaging with Lily the way you’re describing would destroy him.
I made him a promise that I wouldn’t take another omega, and I intend to keep that promise.
I’m not going to harm my own omega to help another one that isn’t mine. ”
Well that stings.
“I appreciate your commitment to your existing omega,” Dr. Turner says, and she actually sounds like she means it, but there’s steel underneath.
“But I need you to understand what you’re choosing.
You are choosing to let a vulnerable, medically compromised omega continue to deteriorate rather than provide the treatment her body needs.
Because it would upset your other omega. ”
“That’s not a fair characterization.”
“It’s an accurate one.”
For a second, neither of them speaks. The air feels heavy.
Gabriel’s jaw flexes. “Nobody asked for this. I didn’t go looking for a scent match. I didn’t plan for any of this. I wish I’d never gone to that gala.”
That one stings harder. I mean, it hits so hard it almost knocks the breath out of me. My chest, my stomach, even my throat—they all crumple under the weight of it. He wishes he never met me. He wishes the bond didn’t exist. He wishes I’d stayed at the registry, tucked away, not-his-problem.
I’m a hassle. A snag in his otherwise smooth life. Something he picked up because he had to, and now he’s trying to put it down without breaking it.
Dr. Turner catches the look on my face. Her expression softens for half a second, but then she’s back to business, eyes firm as she turns to me.
“Lily, if the Santos pack won’t help, you need to think of other options.”
I look at her. I know what’s coming and I don’t want to go there.
“You need to consider letting other alphas help you. It won’t be as soothing as your scent matches, but any alpha touch will ease your symptoms. I can set something up and I’m sure Mr. Santos wouldn’t mind driving you here a few times a week until you find a pack.”
I glance at Gabriel. His jaw is working. I briefly wonder if it’s the thought of other alphas touching me that’s pissing him off. But I doubt it. He’s probably more annoyed that he’d have to take time out of his day to drive me here. Again, I’m the burden he didn’t need.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to do that. What if my omega gets attached to more alphas that don’t want to keep me? I’d rather ride it out until I find some decent ones that do.”
“Lily, your symptoms are only going to get worse.”
“Can I come back to the registry?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. Both of them swivel to look at me. “If I’m such a problem, if my being there is making everything harder for everyone—can I just come back? I can find a pack from here. Maybe… hopefully.”
Dr. Turner freezes. “Lily, the moment you set foot back in that registry, the Foster pack will have you.”
“What?”
“It’s all the staff are talking about. How aggressively the Fosters have been pursuing you. When they found out the Santos pack took you in, Brennan Foster threatened to sue the entire board. He was furious.”
“Sue them for what?” Gabriel asks.
“For breach of… I’m not sure of the exact legal term. But from what I’ve gathered, the Foster pack believed Lily’s placement with them was a settled matter. As if the registry had already agreed to hand Lily over, and your pack intervened before the paperwork was finalized.”
Suddenly the room is freezing. Gabriel sits perfectly still, every muscle drawn tight.
“The registry had already agreed to give her to them,” he says. He’s not asking, he already knows. “The director hinted that it was going to happen, not that it already had. Fuck.”
“I can’t confirm that. I only know what I’ve heard through staff conversations.
But the level of entitlement the Foster pack displayed suggests they believed they had an arrangement.
” Dr. Turner looks at me. “Which is why coming back is not an option, Lily. Whatever is happening here, however difficult it is—it’s safer than the alternative. Even I don’t like the Foster pack.”
So there’s no going back. Only forward.
And forward doesn’t want me.
I nod, or maybe I just stop fighting. My head is pounding, my eyes hurt, and honestly, I’m too tired to care right now.
Gabriel leans forward, hands clasped so tight his knuckles are white. “What do you recommend? Practically. If direct contact with my pack isn’t an option.”
Dr. Turner slides off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I want to refer her to an omega specialist. He works with omegas and can provide therapeutic support, coping strategies, medication management.”
Gabriel nods, once. “Set it up. I’ll make sure she gets there.”
“I’ll call you when the appointment is confirmed.
” Dr. Turner stands up and looks at Gabriel over the edge of her glasses, like teachers do when they’re too old to care about politeness.
“Mr. Santos. I want to be clear about one thing. Any alpha contact would help Lily. Contact from regular alphas during an episode would provide some relief. But the effect from her scent-matched pack would be exponentially stronger. You are, biologically, the best medicine she could receive. I acknowledge why you’ve chosen not to provide that.
But I need you to understand the cost of that choice.
The cost is her health and her livelihood. ”