Chapter 9 Lena #2
When a registered omega doesn’t show up for mandatory enlistment, Arca investigates.
But my mother and Marco had already prepared for that.
All she had to do was lie, say I’d run, disappearing to avoid enlistment.
Even back then, Marco had sources within Arca, already on his payroll, making sure those lies were believed and the investigation was shut down, quickly and quietly.
And just like that… I was gone.
I had enrolled to start training at eighteen, just like every other omega. Life was supposed to look so different. This wasn't what I thought my future would be.
But my past felt so distant now.
Like it belonged to someone else.
I barely recognize the girl I was before that van door closed.
And now here I was, a woman, finally standing where I thought I had been going all those years ago.
When the elevator doors opened, a hallway stretched long and quiet, lined with numbered doors. Dr. Hampton stood in front of one, waiting to greet us.
“Lena, thank you for meeting me here today,” she said warmly. “Sorry for the change in routine, but during our session, I’ll be running a few tests, which will require the equipment in my office.”
She opened the door and gestured inside. Instead of entering her office, I stepped back, brushing into Silas. My shoulders collided with his solid chest. Leaning down, he looked at me with a hardened expression.
“Go inside, little mute,” he ordered gruffly. Then his tone softened as he stepped closer, close enough that his lips barely brushed the shell of my ear. Goosebumps rippled across my skin.
“I’m right here,” he whispered.
His reassuring words doused my fear as I crossed the threshold, wary eyes sweeping Dr. Hampton's office. I cataloged the space automatically, checking corners and exits, looking for anything that might signal danger, before allowing myself to take another step forward.
The office was dimly lit, with overhead lights kept off in favor of soft table lamps which cast a warm glow across the room.
Nothing was harsh or abrupt. Every wall was lined with framed photographs of smiling faces, candid and unguarded.
I briefly wondered if any of the people in them were real, or if the photographs were staged, taken for Arca propaganda.
Tall bookshelves filled one side of the space, packed with medical texts and well worn binders, their spines labeled and organized with care.
From a small speaker tucked onto a shelf, classical piano music played quietly, the notes unobtrusive, threading through the room without demanding attention.
Plush armchairs sat arranged in a loose circle near a low table. Brightly colored plastic pieces, decks of cards, and several other puzzles scattered the table.
Everything about the room felt designed to lower defenses.
Still, mine remained firmly in place.
Dr. Hampton motioned for me to sit in the small chair at the low table, while Knox, Silas, and herself settled into the armchairs across from me.
“You asked for more puzzles,” she said. “So I found a few that might challenge you more. Why don’t you start with this one?”
She gestured to a collection of brightly colored plastic blocks, each a different size and shape.
“Do I need to explain the objective?” she asked.
I shook my head no.
“All right,” she said. “You can begin.”
My hands moved immediately, working to bring the image already formed in my mind into reality.
Unlike the flat puzzle before, this one was three dimensional.
Each piece fit together on multiple planes, shapes locking in on all sides until they formed a large octagonal prism.
Despite the new format, its completed form still appeared in my mind, guiding my hands.
I didn’t even notice that the doctor had started a timer until it beeped at the moment I completed my task. Then she began jotting down notes, her pen moving fast across the page. Whatever she wrote remained a mystery to me, as it always did.
“Four minutes, Lena,” Dr. Hampton said, a note of approval in her voice. “That’s quite impressive. I’d like to continue with more puzzles, but I want to record certain data using a specialized tool.”
She reached next to her chair and lifted a compact device with a small monitor and a bundle of long, thin wires. Each wire ended in a flat medical sensor, designed to adhere to skin. She stood and brought it closer so I could examine it.
“This allows us to monitor your brain activity, pulse, and more,” she explained simply.
“The sensors pick up electrical signals your brain produces naturally. It doesn’t hurt, and it won’t change how you feel or think.
The device simply allows us to observe what’s already happening in your mind and body while you work. Would that be alright with you?”
She waited, giving me time to process.
I nodded.
She untangled the wires and reached toward my temple with one of the sensors. I ducked away from her touch instinctively, shoulders bunching as my gaze locked onto her hand.
Dr. Hampton withdrew immediately.
“That’s all right,” she said evenly. “For accurate readings, I'll need to place these on your temples and chest,” she reached for me again, but I ducked again.
She didn't get frustrated like I expected; instead, suggesting, “If you don’t feel comfortable with me placing them, would you prefer one of your handlers do it?”
The room went quiet.
I glanced at Silas first, then to Knox. They both waited, staring at me in anticipation. After a moment, I nodded, small but certain.
Red flooded my cheeks.
Silas smirked, catching my reaction. Then Knox stood and took the device from Dr. Hampton as she instructed him where each sensor needed to go. He moved closer, but not completely into my space, waiting for explicit permission.
I nodded.
“I’ll go slow,” he reassured me.
His touch was deliberate and careful, no abrupt movements.
One sensor settled against each temple, cool at first, then warming as it adhered.
Another followed along the side of my neck, right where my pulse throbbed, his fingers barely grazing skin as he placed it.
Goosebumps erupted. I focused on my breathing, steadying myself as the contact lingered just long enough for him to be precise.
“Two more,” Dr. Hampton said. “They need to sit lower on her chest for accurate readings.”
She looked at me. “Lena, could you please slip your arms out of the straps of your shirt so Knox can place the sensors on your chest?”
I hesitated, but eventually slipped my arms out of the straps, clutching the loose fabric of my shirt to my chest, tightly. My fingers curled into the material, knuckles whitening as I waited.
“A little lower,” Dr. Hampton said, making a note in her journal. “A few inches below your brand is where we’ll get the most accurate reading.”
I didn’t move. If my shirt slipped any lower, I would be exposed.
They had all seen the rose branded below my collar bone, and the scars across my back, but I knew what hid lower, curving along the slope of my breast. Knox watched me, sensing my hesitation.
An alpha purr slipped from him as he reached for the neckline of my top.
Knox shifted the fabric, sliding it down just enough to place the sensor, exposing the subtle top curve of my breasts.
Soft flesh was marred by an ugly, deep scar on the left side.
Only the start of it was currently visible, but it traveled all the way down, bisecting my nipple before ending at the lower curve.
Marco had lost control that time, carving my left breast as a reminder that I belonged to him. He wanted me to think of him every time I looked at it.
For a moment, Knox didn't even notice it, as his heated gaze scanned my exposed skin. All his usual restraint dissipated, eyes drawn by instinct before control could intervene. Alpha arousal filled the air.
Then his gaze caught on my scar.
His expression changed instantly, the tension in his jaw hardening into rage. Raw fury flooded his features.
“Who did this?” he demanded, voice violent. “Was it Marco?”
Knox's hand closed around my arm before I could react, fingers gripping too tight and too sudden. I squealed and tried to pull away.
"Who did this?" he barked this time. His alpha bark was coarse and demanding, tugging at the edges of omega instincts I had buried. The urge to answer him filtered through my mind, but I pushed it down, remaining silent.
I shook, trying to rip my arm away, but his fingers locked even tighter.
Fear spiked, as his grip grew painful. Painful enough to serve as a reminder. This was what alphas were capable of when restraint slipped. This was the violence I had learned to survive.
“Special Officer Mercer.” Dr. Hampton’s voice cut sharply through the room. “Step back. Now.”
He barely registered her, his face still twisted with a scowl as he stared at my scar.
“You’re upsetting the omega,” she continued, unwavering. “Let go of her.”
A low growl rumbled out of him, his focus remained narrowed on me until even Silas stepped in.
“Knox, you’re scaring the little mute.”
I whimpered, trying to pull my arm free. The movement finally broke whatever hold my scar had on his attention.
Knox’s grip loosened immediately, his hand tearing away as if burned. He stepped back, chest rising and falling sharply forcing himself back under control. His gaze flicked to his brother, something silent passing between them before both looked back at me.
“Sorry,” Knox muttered, the word rough and uneven. Then, softer, “I’m sorry, Lena.”
He reached for the sensor again, trying to move past what had just happened and continue applying it, but when he got close, I flinched.
Confusion flickered across his face, quickly replaced by regret. He stilled, then dropped into a crouch, lowering himself to my level.
His ice blue eyes met mine.