Page 15 of UnTrained: Volume One
Gavin enters the break room, his expression grim. "That was… something.”
Yeah, that’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.
She's malnourished. Dehydrated. There are scars on her thighs and back—some old, some more recent. Signs of prolonged psychological conditioning.
"She's been there at least six months, maybe longer," Gavin says. "The scarring patterns suggest regular punishments. Whoever had her knew what they were doing—maximum pain, minimal permanent damage."
For some reason, the way he describes her experience has red-hot rage pulsing in my belly.
"What about the other one?" Alex asks.
I’d almost forgotten about the other woman.
"Celia? She's newer. Maybe a few weeks in. Still fighting. Jake's with her now."
That draws my attention. “Jake? Are you sure he’s the right?—”
Gavin’s stare cuts right through me. “He can handle her.”
I lift a brow but stay silent.
Jake is like me. He loves to be the sadist, the enforcer. I can’t picture him being soft, tender.
But then, he’s engaged now. While he played that part with Tessa—his fiancée, now—while she was a recruit, I can’t imagine he’s in that role all the time at home.
“Anyway,” I say, breaking the silence, “Celia seems like she’ll be easier to return to her old life. What do you think the other girl needs?”
Once again, I wish I knew her name.
Gavin shrugs. “Seems like she responded to dominance. I’d go with that route.”
I narrow my eyes. "You think I should keep treating her like she's still captive?"
"I think you should give her what she needs to feel safe," Gavin says carefully. "And right now, that seems to be structure. Commands she can follow. Clear expectations."
The thought makes my stomach churn, but I can't argue with the logic. When I spoke to her gently, she looked terrified. When I commanded her, she relaxed.
It makes me wonder if there’s some underlying need for control.
"How long do you think it'll take?" Alex asks. “For either of them.”
Gavin shrugs. "Could be weeks. Could be months. Depends on how deep the conditioning goes. I’m guessing it’ll be quick for Celia. The other one? It’s anybody’s guess."
I think about the way the girl gripped my hand during the enema. The way she looked at me when I told her to take it for me. There was something there—not just compliance, but something deeper. Trust, maybe. Or the beginning of it.
"I'll work with her," I say finally. "See if I can get her to open up."
I nod firmly, cementing my statement. I’ll get her to open up.
Not because I’m drawn to this woman, of course.
Because this is my job, and I’m damn good at it.
Anything else is just collateral damage.
11
LANA
