Chapter 6 Knox #2
After she killed Jacob, she just sat, staring at her hands like they didn’t belong to her, turning them over slowly, searching for an answer that wasn’t there.
Based on her reaction, she hadn’t seemed remorseful.
I wouldn’t have expected guilt anyway. Jacob had played his part in the horrible things done to her.
No, she seemed more shocked and confused, as if the omega was trying to understand why it had happened, rather than feel anything about it.
“Lena,” Dr. Hampton said, in an even voice. “I’m going to ask you a few simple questions. You don’t need to answer them out loud. A nod up and down means 'yes.' A shake side to side means 'no.' If you choose not to answer, you may remain silent. There is no punishment for choosing not to answer.”
Lena didn’t move.
“I’m going to begin.”
Dr. Hampton folded her hands on the table. “Are you comfortable?”
Nothing.
“Are you in pain?”
No response.
“Do you have any injuries that need to be attended to?”
Lena’s gaze stayed unfocused, fixed somewhere past the edge of the table.
“Are you hungry?”
Silence.
“Tired?”
Still nothing.
Dr. Hampton made a slight note on her paper pad. Then she looked up again.
“Are you scared?”
That did it.
Lena’s eyes flicked instinctively, for just a moment. First to Silas. Then to me.
Dr. Hampton didn’t react outwardly, simply following the shift in her gaze.
“Are you scared of your alpha handlers?” she asked calmly.
Lena’s posture stiffened. From where I sat, I could see her fingers curl faintly in her lap.
“Has an alpha hurt you?”
Lena’s breath caught, just the tiniest gasp of air, but it was enough of a response.
I felt Silas tense beside me. He’d been different lately, more angry, more impatient, more reactive than usual. Those traits had always been part of him, but now they were intensified, harder to control.
It reminded me of how he acted when he went too long without an outlet for his violence and rage. When he bottled his vices and let the pressure build. But this felt different from that.
I suspected the omega was affecting him, even if he would never admit it. It would be a lie to say she wasn't affecting me too.
Dr. Hampton nodded once, as if Lena had voiced her answer.
“Thank you,” she said. “Your reaction tells me all I need to know.”
She leaned back slightly, minimizing her presence without fully retreating.
“No one is going to hurt you here, Lena,” she said evenly. “You are a protected Arca witness and under my patient care."
Lena watched her closely, eyes narrowing, assessing the validity of the woman's words.
“If you understand that,” Dr. Hampton continued, “nod once.”
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then, slowly, Lena dipped her chin.
Once.
Silas let out a breath under his nose, quiet and disbelieving.
“Lena,” Dr. Hampton said calmly, “it is not in an alpha’s nature to hurt omegas. Instinctively, they are driven to protect them.”
A short sound burst from Lena’s throat. Not quite a laugh, more like a bitter and disbelieving snort.
“I know that may be hard to trust,” Dr. Hampton continued, “given your experience. But Special Officers Silas and Knox Mercer are not Marco Bellini. They are your AIED alpha handlers, assigned to protect you. To help you.”
She bristled at her words. Lena’s eyes stayed on the doctor as disbelief lingered in the set of her mouth.
"I know your introduction to them was… rocky, but they were just doing their jobs," Dr. Hampton said, “In time, you will see that they are not your enemy.”
She paused and let that settle before continuing.
“I’ll be meeting with you every day, Lena. Same time, same room. These will be your therapy appointments. You don’t have to speak unless you choose to. We’ll work at a pace you can tolerate.”
Lena’s gaze flicked briefly toward the door, then back to the doctor.
“For tomorrow,” Dr. Hampton went on, “I want you to think about whether there’s anything you need. Something that would make these sessions easier. Paper. A pen. Maybe something recreational to keep you busy. Anything. You may ask and I will try my best to provide it.”
She paused, watching carefully for any reaction.
“You don’t have to decide now,” she added. “But if you think of something, you can bring it up at our next appointment.”
Lena didn’t respond. She simply sat there, still and guarded, but the disbelief in her expression began softening, not to trust, but perhaps consideration.
Dr. Hampton closed her notebook. “That’s all for today.”
She stood motioning her hand toward the door. “We’ll see each other tomorrow, Lena.”
Silas led Lena back to her room at a distance, and I waited with the doctor until my brother returned.
Once we were all seated again, Dr. Hampton looked between the two of us. “I’ll outline my recommendations clearly. You can ask questions when I’m finished, but I want to be clear. These are not suggestions.”
Silas crossed his arms. “Go ahead, doc.”
“First,” she said, “remove the bedframe. Put Lena's mattress on the floor. Provide one blanket and one pillow to start. Nothing else.”
“Sure. That will make it easier to wrangle her,” Silas said with a snort.
"It's not to make things easier for you," she corrected him. “Everything we do is for her. Hiding under the bed is where the omega dissociates and avoids engagement. Remove her chosen safe space and you will force her to seek comfort elsewhere."
She continued, “Add one comfort item per day, a pillow or blanket. She needs to acclimate slowly to nesting and reconnect with her omega instincts. Too much, too fast, will overwhelm her. Through gradual introduction, comfort becomes familiar.”
Silas shook his head. “You’re training her like a dog.”
“I’m retraining her omega instincts,” Dr. Hampton shot back. “Which is what you two and Command asked me to do. It's called reconditioning.”
She flipped a page. “Second. Routine. Her days need to be identical. Wake time, then meal, recreation, meal, therapy, meal, rest, and finally lights out. Get her something recreational to help pass the time. Each event happens at exactly the same time, every day, and no deviations.”
“And if something comes up?” Silas asked.
“Then you warn her well in advance,” Dr. Hampton replied. “Predictability is safety. Routine teaches her nervous system that she can expect what comes next. Surprises equal fear and will surely send her nervous system into overdrive.”
She continued without pause, “Third. Proximity.”
Silas’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t let us anywhere near her.”
“I know,” Dr. Hampton said. “That’s the point. She associates alpha presence with pain, not security. That association has to be dismantled.”
I asked, “How exactly do we do that?”
“When she is not sleeping, showering, or using the restroom, an alpha needs to be with her at all times,” Dr. Hampton said.
Silas let out a humorless laugh. “You want us babysitting her?”
“I want her nervous system to learn that alpha proximity does not equal harm,” she replied. “We want her to view you as neutral first, and to eventually view you as protective.”
"Fat chance of that, doc," Silas snorted, but she ignored him.
She turned another page. “Fourth. Food.”
“We feed her," my brother said with a scoff.
“She barely eats anything we give her,” I added.
Dr. Hampton didn’t look up from her notes. “Which is exactly why you need to pay attention to what she chooses.”
“In survival mode, there are no preferences,” she said calmly. “You eat what keeps you alive. You don’t care what it tastes like, what you like, or what you don’t.”
Her gaze shifted between us.
“The moment someone shows preference… even something small, like avoiding peas… that’s choice. And choice, however small, means she’s beginning to come out of survival mode.”
“So you vary the food, giving her options. Document what she gravitates toward, integrating them more frequently into her diet. Remember, you’re not just feeding her,” she said. “You’re giving her control back.”
I thought back to the way the runt had scrunched her nose at the side of peas. She was starving, but something in her had still decided she didn’t have to eat them.
Was what the doctor said true? That she was already starting to feel safe enough to refuse eating them?
I doubted it considering the way she still hid under the bed, tracking us with wary eyes.
“Fifth,” Dr. Hampton continued, “therapy and questioning.”
Silas cut her off, “When exactly do we get answers? Command wants to know everything she knows about the Bellini Crime Syndicate. Eventually they'll get impatient and demand intel.”
“After regulation,” she said. “She’ll meet with me daily at the same time. Therapy comes first. You’ll both be allowed to ask questions afterward. For now, it’s her choice whether she answers.”
“And if she won’t talk?” Silas asked.
“If you follow my guidelines, she will. I have years of experience with omegas, and I specialize in rehabilitating trafficked ones. Lena is far from the first deeply traumatized omega I’ve worked with. The world isn’t kind to them," she said, trailing off into thought.
Then adding, "I know what I’m doing. You’ll have to trust me, the same way we’re asking her to trust us.”
Silas sighed, shifting his weight and dropping his gaze.
Dr. Hampton flipped the page in her notebook. “Sixth. Touch.”
Silas and I both went still. Any attempt at contact usually ended in biting.
“She is severely touch-averse,” Dr. Hampton said. “That will not resolve on its own. If she is ever going to be assigned to a unit, she has to tolerate contact. Touch is fundamental to that role. We need to recondition her to accept it.”
“Where do we start?” I asked.
“Small,” she said. “Neutral and functional touch. Handing her items directly and brushing fingers. Brief contact with no sudden movements.”
“And after that?” Silas asked.