Something whole.
And for a reason I didn't fully understand, that scared me even more.
A blush crept up my neck as my gaze dropped to the table, settling on the bottle sitting between us. My hand moved before I could think too hard about it. I grabbed it, twisted the cap loose, shook a pill into my palm, and swallowed it dry.
Silence settled over the room afterward.
Then Knox exhaled softly. “Okay,” he said.
Beside me, Silas’s thumb brushed over his mark one last time before his hand finally fell away. Disappointment lingered in the set of his shoulders, subtle but unmistakable, as though some part of him had hoped I wouldn’t take them despite their offer.
Comms crackled a second later.
“The doc’s here,” Officer Yuri said through the speaker.
“Let her in,” Silas replied, already pushing to his feet.
He headed toward the safehouse entrance to meet her while Knox stayed exactly where he was, watching me in the heavy silence.
I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
The conference room door opened a moment later. Dr. Hampton stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the room once before landing on the suppressant bottle.
“Good,” she said, moving closer. “I’m glad your handlers briefed you on the suppressants.”
She didn’t sit right away. Just observed me.
“We’ll proceed with them as a short-term intervention,” she continued. “One to two months at most. The goal is stabilization,notdependency.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“Before your next heat cycle, we’ll begin structured desensitization for touch aversion.”
My fingers curled tighter in my lap.
“Gradual exposure,” she went on. “Predictable contact. Controlled duration. You’ll build tolerance, then comfort.”
She paused, her head tilted slightly.
“I’m told there was a recent breakthrough involving physical contact.”
Embarrassment shaded my face.
My gaze dropped to the table, unable to make eye contact with anyone in the room.
The mark on my throat tingled.
I nodded.
“And has verbal response resumed?” she added.
I didn’t speak.
Silas leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “It did, but now she’s backtracking, doc,” he said.
“Regression following progress is typical,” she said evenly. “Neurological response patterns rarely improve in a straight line.”
The doctor finally took a seat then, folding her hands neatly in front of her.
