Chapter 9 Lena #3
“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that,” he said, voice lower now. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I…” He paused, searching for the right words. “It just caught me off guard. I didn’t know…” His voice trailed off as his eyes lingered on my scar then back to my face as he watched for my reaction.
Knox looked… ashamed. Genuinely so. That kind of regret I had never once seen from Marco or any other alpha. They never questioned their outbursts, or cared how they affected me.
My fingers tightened in the fabric of my shirt before I lowered it slightly, a small, tentative signal that I accepted his apology and he could continue.
Knox’s movements were even more careful when he reached for me again, as he finished placing the sensors, his eyes stayed fixed anywhere but my exposed skin.
Despite his apology, the echo of that brief loss of control still lingered in my bones, a reminder that safety with alphas was always conditional.
Even with Knox.
Once the sensors were in place, Dr. Hampton began her tests. She asked me to complete a series of puzzles, each one increasing in difficulty for anyone but me.
I saw the outcomes immediately, the finished forms clear in my mind before I touched a single piece. There was no trial and error, no testing or guessing. She timed each task, monitored my vitals on her screen, and occasionally made notes.
When I finished the last one, she spoke again.
“Very good, Lena,” she said evenly. “You completed these far more quickly than anticipated.” She glanced at the monitor. “We have extra time, so I’d like to ask you a few questions before we remove the sensors and conclude today’s appointment.”
I nodded.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s begin.”
Her voice remained calm and neutral.
“You killed the informant your handlers were interrogating. Why?”
My head swivelled, panicked eyes darting to Knox, then to Silas. Dr. Hampton’s questions were usually relatively harmless and restrained, always phrased so I could answer with a nod or a shake of my head.
This wasn’t one of those questions.
Her inquiry caught me completely off guard, reaching for something I had buried deep.
My mind recoiled, shutting down as the memory slipped away before it could fully form.
It was a survival reflex I knew well, one built from years of burying traumatic memories in the furthest corners of my mind and avoiding them at all costs.
Of course I knew that I had killed someone.
But the why… the how…
Those pieces stayed just out of reach. My reaction happened too fast to follow, too sudden to understand. One second I was standing next to Knox, the next lunging at Jacob, screwdriver in hand. Something had possessed me, and then, just as quickly, it was gone.
Now, faced with her question, I was forced to consider why.
The monitor emitted a soft alert as my heart rate spiked.
“This question is causing distress,” Dr. Hampton observed. “Can you tell me why?”
I said nothing, as my mind raced, searching for answers.
Why did I kill Jacob?
Another alert.
“Is it because Jacob mentioned your heat?” Knox asked, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees.
Silas leaned forward too, his attention sharpening at the mention of my heat.
That's right…
Jacob's last words...
Everyone can hear her screaming and begging all the way from upstairs.
Jacob was just about to tell them about what Marco did to me during my heats. How he would tie me up, naked and helpless, leaving me to writhe in pain on the floor. He would have told them all about how I would beg Luca, Jacob, Marco, or any other alpha near me, for a knot.
I didn't want them to know. I hadn't wanted to kill Jacob, but I couldn't let him say the words aloud. I didn't want the truth to leave his lips.
Dr. Hampton and my handlers sat, waiting for my answer, giving me time to consider.
Keep quiet. Say nothing, I told myself.
Then a different voice rose inside me, quieter than fear, but more persistent.
They can help you.
Let them.
I nodded once, small and hesitant. My eyes stayed fixed on my lap, fingers twisting tightly in the fabric of my shirt.
“Thank you for responding, Lena,” Dr. Hampton said. “Why did you not want Jacob to mention your heat?”
She waited.
“Are you ashamed of it?”
A small nod. Yes.
“If Marco forced himself on you during your heats,” she said carefully, “there is nothing about that to be ashamed of.”
My gaze snapped up at his name. I shook my head hard.
“He did not force himself on you during heat?” she tried clarifying, surprise briefly breaking through her clinical tone.
No. I shook my head. Not in the way you think.
Silas released a breath of relief he had been holding and leaned back, forcing his knee to still.
“You don't need to feel shame for wanting relief during heat,” Dr. Hampton continued. “Omegas have biological needs during that cycle.”
Frustration flared, sharp and sudden. I shook my head again, harder this time. My mouth opened, then closed.
No.
“Did Marco knot you during your heat cycles?” she asked, slower now.
I shook my head. No.
“Then who did?” she asked quietly. “You were captive for five years. You would have experienced many heat cycles. His lieutenants perhaps?"
My chest tightened.
I raised my hands and pressed my wrists together, fists clenched, miming restraints. Then I shook my head again.
Dr. Hampton’s expression shifted to pity. Silas' relief didn't last long. He now looked as if his rage was barely contained, and Knox's head hung low in his hands.
“I understand,” she said softly. “He restrained you during heat. Did his men knot you, if not Marco himself?
I shook my head firmly. She wasn't getting it! I thought she said she could help me!
"I don't understand Lena." She passed me a page from her notepad and a pencil. "Can you write for me? Help me understand?"
Silence settled over the room.
“I’m trying my best to understand,” she said carefully. “Marco kept you in his custody for five years. During that time you would have had roughly sixty heat cycles…” She paused. “If Marco didn’t knot you, then who?”
The question made sense. It was the only conclusion most people reached. No one would suspect the truth. Five years, alone and restrained during every heat, without access to medical care, suppressants, or heat assistance tools. Most omegas would be dead.
Our bodies weren’t built to sustain that level of hormonal stress for long periods without alpha or medical assistance.
As heat dragged on, dehydration and exhaustion set in, coupled with painful contractions as the body tried to force the cycle to completion.
Heat fevers could spike high enough to become life-threatening, while prolonged strain sometimes lead to internal bleeding or permanent infertility.
Honestly, it was shocking that I hadn't died from a heat fever years ago.
Somehow, I had survived on nothing but sheer determination, and eventually my body seemed to understand there would be no help coming.
The heats became duller after that and more manageable in some ways.
Contraction pain was still excruciating torture, but not quite as brutal or raw as in the beginning.
I shook my head.
Her brow furrowed. “I see,” she said slowly. “Lena, it’s all right to feel shame about submission. To beg for something you might not want. Omegas can lose control during heat. That doesn't mean you were willing.”
She was still going in the wrong direction!
Still convinced I had to have been knotted.
Frustration welled up, thick and choking. I shook my head again, sharper this time. My hands clenched in my lap. I didn’t want to explain anymore. I couldn’t.
Turning away, I fixed my gaze on the far wall of her office. The framed photos blurred together as tears welled in my eyes.
“Lena?” she asked again.
I said nothing. If I tried to explain anymore, sobs would spill.
“Lena, the doc is talking to you.” Silas’s voice snapped sharp across the room, his chair shifting as he leaned forward.
Silence.
“Answer her!” Silas barked in frustration.
His command hit me hard, and my instinct to do what he said rose fast. My body strained toward compliance, that pull stronger now that my omega instincts had begun resurfacing. I fought it hard, forcing myself to stay still and silent.
“That’s enough,” Dr. Hampton said calmly, stepping in before the tension could escalate. “She’s given us enough for today. If she doesn’t want to disclose more, she doesn’t have to.”
Silas’s fist came down hard against the arm of the chair, the sharp crack making me flinch. He stood, turning on the doctor with narrowed eyes. The thick muscle in his jaw flexed.
Then he looked back at me.
I saw it then.
The shift.
Frustration giving way to impatience.
For a moment, the restraint he’d been barely holding onto thinned just enough for me to see what always sat beneath it. Violence. Silas was dangerously close to the edge of his patience, and I knew exactly what that meant.
He wanted answers, whether I was willing to give them or not.
For a second, I thought he might push past the doctor, throw me over his shoulder, drive straight to the workshop, drag me down the stairs, and revert to his original plan.
I could see him weighing it in his mind as he stared at me.
But then Knox stepped between us.
Their standoff was brief, but enough to rein his brother in.
Silas held his breath, tension still coiled tight in every muscle, as growl tore through his chest. Then he broke away with a scowl and stormed out of the office. The door slammed shut and the air he left behind felt bitter, heavy with alpha rage.
I shrank in on myself, guilt washing over me. Knox looked at me, his expression tight and unreadable. He had stepped in to stop Silas, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t equally frustrated with me or my complete lack of progress.
The twins were always holding each other back, dragging one another away from the edge whenever tempers snapped too far. Earlier, Silas had intervened when Knox lost control.
Now Knox had done the same for him.
Both of them were getting dangerously close to running out of patience with me.
So I stayed silent as sadness settled heavily inside me, sinking so deep it made my chest ache.
I couldn’t keep doing this.
Not forever.
At some point, I would have to decide whether I was going to trust them… or not.
Why was I so ashamed to tell these men what had really happened to me?