Chapter 6 Lana
LANA
Aiden returns to my side as Gavin pulls a metal tray over to the table.
My hands clench into fists at my sides as the metal instruments clatter softly against the tray. The sound echoes in the sterile room, each clink making my muscles tense despite my training.
"This won't hurt," Gavin says, his voice gentler than Aiden's. I don’t trust it. "I just need to check that you're healthy. That no one has injured you."
I keep my breathing steady, counting the ceiling tiles again. Twenty-seven. Always twenty-seven.
Gavin moves between my legs, and I force myself to remain still. The vinyl beneath me crinkles as I shift slightly, my body betraying my anxiety despite my efforts to appear compliant.
Gloved hands touch my inner thigh, and I flinch involuntarily. My breath catches in my throat.
"Easy," Aiden says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Gavin is just going to check to make sure you’re okay. Nothing more."
I stare at the ceiling, focusing on the tiles again. Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven.
"I'm going to examine you now," Gavin says. "If anything hurts, tell me."
I almost laugh. Tell him if it hurts? As if my comfort matters. As if I have the right to complain. But I nod anyway, because that's what they expect.
His touch is clinical, impersonal. Not like the men at the facility. There, examinations were just another form of violation, another way to remind us that our bodies weren't our own.
This examination feels different, though I can't pinpoint why. Gavin's movements are methodical, careful. When his fingers probe my belly gently, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making any sound.
"Any pain here?" he asks, pressing lightly against tender skin of my abdomen.
I shake my head. There is discomfort, but nothing like the deliberate cruelty I've grown accustomed to. Nothing meant to break me further.
He presses again, deeper, and I can’t hide my wince at the pain.
“When was your last bowel movement, sweetheart?” Gavin asks.
My face flushes hot at the question. I bite my lower lip as I think back.
“Um. Maybe a few days ago.”
Aiden squeezes my shoulder. “Good girl.”
I look up at him, startled.
He rubs a hand over the same spot but doesn’t say anything else.
Between my legs, Gavin moves his hands from my abdomen to my inner thighs, pressing them even wider.
I close my eyes when he moves the stirrups to spread me wider still.
I’ve dealt with worse, I remind myself. This is humiliating, but so far, it’s not painful.
I force myself not to react when something cold presses against my bottom.
“Just relax, sweetheart,” Gavin says.
But I can’t relax. I don’t know what to do. I need—
“Open,” Aiden says, his voice commanding. “Open. Now.”
I understand this language. I relax my muscles, letting Gavin slide a finger into my bottom.
When he adds a second finger, I close my eyes, willing it to be over.
Instead, he widens his fingers, moving them in and out.
Finally, he slides them out, and I relax, until I hear his next words.
“I’m going to clean you out, sweetheart.” He strips off his gloves as he stands.
My stomach drops at his words. Clean me out. I know what that means, and my body tenses despite my attempts to stay compliant.
"No." The word slips out before I can stop it.
Both men freeze, and I do, too. Aiden's hand stills on my shoulder, and I can feel the weight of their attention pressing down on me.
I've made a mistake. A big one.
"No?" Aiden's voice is dangerously quiet.
My heart hammers against my ribs. I should take it back, apologize, beg for forgiveness. That's what they trained me to do. But something deep inside me, some last stubborn piece of who I used to be, rebels against this particular violation.
"I'm sorry, Sir." The words rush out, automatic as breathing after all these months. "I didn't mean—" My voice catches in my throat. The ceiling tiles blur as tears fill my eyes. I blink them back quickly.
"You just what?" Aiden's voice seems to have lost some of its harshness. I wonder if I’m imagining it.
I swallow hard, tasting copper where I've bitten my tongue. "I just... I can't. Not that." My voice breaks on the last word.
The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. I wait for the blow, the sharp crack of a hand across my face, the bite of leather against skin. My muscles coil tight, preparing for the pain that always follows defiance.
Instead, Aiden's thumb brushes across my shoulder, a gentle circle that makes me flinch more than violence would.
"Why?" he asks, and his voice is softer now. "What happened?"