Treasure Ch. 15-20

"What are you thinking about, Dad?" Martin had sent the others ahead and pulled his father to the side. As a retired Alpha, he could not vote but Martin depended on him for counsel.

"We can't send the rapists to the same Packs as the victims," he said as he looked at the crowd leaving the building.

"Those that deserve punishment are getting it."

"Yes, but then what? Give them a year in prison or a flogging, but who takes them? Us? Would you expect our two to sit and eat dinner with men who used them like that?" Martin shook his head no. "And what happens if one of those girls finds a mate in our Pack? Should she have to look at reminders of her slavery? What will happen when her mate finds out her past, and figures out those men fucked her against her will?"

"They'll kill them," Martin said. "I would."

"And there lies the problem. We aren't fixing a problem by spreading them out, we're creating it. It isn't fair to the Packs to expect them to take people they don't want to have."

"We can't just kill them, Dad. They haven't broken laws that could sentence them to death. Some of them are only teenagers." He leaned back against a tree. "Still, you're right. I don't want them either."

"And if we don't take them in the Packs..."

"They go rogue, and we create even bigger problems. Without strong leadership, and hating what the Packs did to them..."

"And now you see why I have a headache," he said. "I'm heading back to my room and getting some sleep. If you're staying up, you figure out a way to retrain these men who got so fucked up by Todd."

Martin grabbed his arm, the idea was radical, but it could work. He held his dad in place while he started to piece it together. "Training," he said. "That's it. They need to be retrained, but NOT in the Packs. Let the Council do it."

"What do you mean?"

He looked around. "This place has training facilities, rooms, kitchens, everything you would need for a boot camp and it isn't on any Alpha's territory anymore. Leave the men here, but have Council enforcers, aided by volunteers from the Packs, turn it into a camp to reform the Pack members who aren't accepted. Give them warrior training, discipline, counseling and instruction. Let them prove themselves worthy, and THEN allow them to apply to a Pack for membership."

"And if they can't be reformed?"

"They stay here, the Council's problem. Keep the prison here as well, that way no Pack has to hold men on their territory. It won't be a Pack, it will be a camp. No one leaves until they can satisfy their new Alpha they are a changed person." He was getting excited by the prospect, and Charles was seeing the wisdom in his proposal.

"It's a hell of an idea," Charles said, suddenly not as tired as he once was. "We should make a formal proposal in the morning to the Council and the Alphas."

"I'll need help, presentations aren't my thing," Martin said.

Charles just laughed. "You'll get used to it. Come on, let's grab a meeting room and some beers and work this out." They walked off, grabbing a few others along the way, and entered the Pack House with a bit of hope.

---

Rea sat up in her hospital bed, thankful that she had been allowed some of her art supplies. Her shoulder and arm still hurt, her jaw was still wired shut and her head was still a little foggy from the drugs they were giving her, but she could still paint. The tubes of acrylic paint were in a box at her side, her brushes and water on the bedside table. She held the canvas on her knees, thankful they were no longer restraining her to the bed. She could hold her palette in her left hand, resting against the cast. The art gave her something to focus on between therapy sessions, and she needed that desperately. Visitors had been strictly limited, she had no phone or television, and none of the staff would tell her anything about what was happening.

She was nearly done, the scene from her dream was coming to life on the two-by-two-foot canvas. She was touching up the lines and shadows when the door opened. Looking up, she expected to see the orderly, but she didn't expect to see who he was pushing in on a wheelchair. "CHIEF CLARKE!" She wanted to jump out of bed and hug him, but they'd misinterpret that and lock her down. She smiled widely and put her brush in the water, then set the palette aside.

"Hello, Rea. It's good to see you again." He was wheeled up closer to the bed, but not close enough. The orderly stood back to watch as Rea reached across with her paint-stained hand. He wheeled himself closer and took it gently in his own. "I pulled some strings to see you, I wanted to talk about what happened and I thought you might want to know some things too."

She nodded as she tried to speak clearly, she'd had practice speaking without moving her jaw and it was not that bad. "I don't remember anything after you were shot," she said. "They are working on it with me, we even tried hypnosis, but it's all a blank."

"I don't have good memories of it either," he said. "My wife says I need to stop being a target." His left thigh was still bandaged. "The good news is that it is over. The two men who tried to take you are dead, and everyone else is all right." He didn't mention the APB out on the driver, mainly because they had few leads. The SUV had been found burned out, they didn't have a good photo and no witnesses. They knew he was no longer in town, though.

"You got shot," Rea replied. "Jenny was nearly killed, and Mom was hurt."

"Jenny is back home, she'll be fine. She's been calling your Mom every day, asking when she can visit you. Keep working hard on getting better, Rea. If you show enough improvement, you'll get visiting hours again, and you can't want to stay in this place."

"I don't want to black out either," she said. "What happened after I blacked out? No one will tell me."

"You were frightened and ran," he said. "You did well in that situation. Dropping to your knees gave me a clear shot and I killed the man who was holding you. You never looked back, you ran out of the room before anyone else showed up. We all thought you had bolted, but you were just hiding in a bathroom."

"I didn't hurt anyone?"

"You weren't all there, Rea, and it wasn't your fault. The officers and the staff tried to calm you down, but when you made a run for it, they tackled you and the Doctor gave you a shot. Nobody got hurt, and no one blames you. You're sick, Rea, and we all want you to get better."

"Mom?"

"She took a blow to the face but was fine."

"Thank God," Rea said before she let her head fall back to the pillows. "Why wouldn't they just tell me that?"

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe they were hoping you would remember more, or afraid you would blame yourself. That's why I came, to make sure you didn't. Kidnapping victims aren't at fault, these men set their sights on you, and thanks to Jenny spotting them, we were able to stop them. Case closed." He looked over at the canvas. "So what are you working on?"

She picked up the canvas and showed it to him. A pair of wolves was standing on a rock outcropping at the edge of a pine forest; the larger one was grey, black and white in coloring, while the smaller was a striking rust color. In the distance, a herd of elk could be seen. Other wolves were spreading out along the treeline. "It's not that good," she said.

"Are you kidding me? I'd take that in my living room any day." He looked at it carefully, she had real talent. "Getting ready for the hunt. I like wolves, you must too."

She nodded, replying in short sentences she would show before erasing and writing again. "I started painting them years ago, I did a school project, watched some documentaries, then I started reading about them. I still dream about them, and this scene was in one of my dreams. It's not like I have a lot of models in here to paint."

He laughed. "Well, I'd buy it. You're good, Rea. You're a good person, kind and brave. The problems you have can't change who you really are."

She snorted a little before responding. "Maybe, but I can't trust myself, so I can't blame others for not trusting me either. Even when this is under control, nobody will trust me, and they shouldn't. Do you know what I was most scared about when I woke up from the accident?" He shook his head no. "I was terrified that I had hurt my only friend. I bet you thought the same thing."

He couldn't deny it, they all had blamed her until the evidence finally pointed another direction. "You just get better, Rea. The doctors will find a way to control this, and you can have a life again. In the meantime, keep painting. I'd like to see more."

"Thank you, Chief. I'm sorry you got shot."

"I'm sorry I didn't shoot him faster," he replied. "Take care." The orderly wheeled him out of the room, and she sat there for a few minutes just thinking about what he said. He didn't blame her, and that surprised her a little. Everyone always blamed her, she couldn't be trusted.

Finally, she picked up her brush and dried it off. The painting was finished an hour later. On the back, she wrote a note. "With love and appreciation to Chief Clarke, my hero. Treasure Olson 2016."

She set it against the table to dry, she would give it to him if he stopped in again. Cleaning her supplies, she had everything put away before her late morning appointment. She threw herself into her therapy with renewed enthusiasm.

Ch. 19

Two men opened the door to Treasure's room after midnight, the dark corridors not enough to show their features on the second Monday night of February. "She's out cold, right?"

"Yep, she got a heavy sedative at ten because she has been having nightmares. She won't know a thing, I've done this for years, but they weren't as young and tight as this one is. I'd have done this earlier but she had her mouth wired shut until a few days ago. If you can keep your fucking mouth shut, we can do this on a regular basis, fifty bucks a night. Did you take care of the camera?" He looked in the corner where the surveillance camera was pointed at the bed.

"Yeah, it's frozen. Don't worry, nobody ever looks at these things. If they do, they'll just think it's a computer problem."

The men stepped over to the bed. The young woman was on her back, her wrists and ankles buckled into leather restraints that were strapped to the bed. It was enough to allow her to move slightly yet keep her and the staff safe. Treasure Olson's history had been discussed with all the staff, and everyone knew about the girl she had almost killed with her teeth. Her history of nightmares and episodes led to the directions to keep her restrained at night for her own safety. The men hovered over her, then with a nod one of them pulled the sheet down.

She was dressed in a nightgown, and the bigger of the two leaned over and moved his hand under it. She didn't move. "See? Dead to the world."

"Good enough for me," the second man said. He unzipped his fly as he watched the big man expose her body to them. He moved close to the bed, waiting for him to stand up so he could use that sweet little mouth.

The first man leaned down to lick her body as his hand wandered. She growled, and he moved his left hand to her mouth to keep her quiet, then screamed as the fingers that he put over her mouth were bit down on hard. "FUCK! Shit! Get her fucking mouth open, you idiot!"

The second man tried, but her head was shaking back and forth. The big man was trying to pull it free, but she was biting down hard. When he finally got his hand free, his left pinky and ring finger were missing. "Sonofabitch!" The second man grabbed the sheet, wrapping it around his bloody hand. The commotion attracted the attention of the night floor nurse, who took charge over the two orderlies. She sent them down to the emergency room while she checked Treasure.

The young girl's face was covered with blood, and the finger with the wedding ring still on it lay by her head. The girl was still chewing something, then she spit a pinky onto her chest. As if a switch had been flipped, she stopped struggling and went back into a deep sleep. More people arrived to help, and the chewed-up digits were placed on ice and sent down the Emergency Room.

"What the hell happened here, Nurse Morgan," Doctor Thompson said as he rushed into the room.

"I don't know, Collins said he was checking on her because she was making noise and she bit him," she said.

"Unbelievable." He looked over his patient, she was out cold, but her nightgown had been pushed down to expose her chest and the thin sheet over her was gone. "How the hell does she expose herself while in full restraints?"

"I don't know, Doctor. The only thing I know for sure is that she bit his fingers off, because I found one in her mouth when I arrived."

"Monitor her, but don't touch her until I tell you it's all right. Whatever you do, don't go near her teeth." He checked her chart, verifying her dosage. "She'll be out for another four to six hours. When she wakes, we'll see if she remembers anything about what happened. Don't let anyone in the room until the police arrive." He walked out of the room, heading to the front desk. His first call was to 911 to report a possible sexual assault, the second to the Hospital Duty Officer.

Treasure didn't deserve this, none of his patients did. He was shaking as he hung up the phone; the hospital wouldn't be doing the investigation this time, the police would. He went back to the room to check on his patient, who was still sleeping soundly.

When the detectives arrived, he could see the anger on their faces as he told them who the victim was. "God, can that girl catch a break," Detective Jensen said.

"She doesn't need this," Detective Jones said as he got to the room. "I need a female nurse or officer in the room with me at all times." He pulled out a camera, taking a number of photos of her and the room.

"I need the surveillance footage of the room," Detective Jensen said to the security officer who had brought them up to the floor.

"It's downstairs, I'll show you," he said and led him off.

When the photos were done, Detective Jones pulled out some evidence bags and a sealed packet of swabs. "I need to swipe for blood and DNA," he said. "I'll put it in the bag, then seal and sign it." He put on latex gloves, then used cotton balls to swipe up some blood from her chin. One of the female patrol officers showed up, and he had her swab what looked like saliva tracks on her breasts. "Wasn't there a sheet on the bed?"

"Yes, Mr. Collins had his hand wrapped in it."

He sealed up that packet, then turned to the females, pulling out some larger evidence bags and placing them on the bedside table. "I'm going to go down to the ER to get statements and take that into evidence. Officer Williams, when the nurse changes her out of that nightgown and changes the sheets, I need them in evidence bags. Nurse, you can clean her face and chest, but I need a doctor to examine her and perform a rape kit if indicated."

He left them to that as he walked to the elevator. The sight of her, unconscious and helpless in the restraints, had him shaking with rage. He was going to make sure the two men were convicted, and he hoped to hell Dawn Olson got herself a good lawyer and sued the hell out of this hospital for what they let happen to her.

---

Charles looked over the information on Charlotte, legal name Treasure Olson, that their investigators had uncovered. He shook with rage at the latest offense, two humans who had sexually assaulted her as she lay helpless in the hospital. He had been tempted to take her out of there himself if her mother had not immediately transferred her to St. Paul. Logging on to Skype, he called his son. "Hi Martin, did you get the latest on Charlotte?"

"I did," he said with barely-controlled anger. "Dad, we need to get her out of there. The longer this goes on, the more damage is being done to her wolf."

"I know, but the rules are strict. I can't expose myself to humans and I can't just take her, or I'm no better than Todd."

"Don't be a Todd," Mitch said with a laugh. "Do you have what you need?"

"We're keeping an eye on her and her mother, but there isn't much going on while she's in the hospital. We did manage to plant a listening device in her room, and we've got one of our men working as a janitor on that wing now. We're set up in a nearby hotel."

"Good, Dad. We can't let anything happen to her now."

"I just hope I can convince her to come home where she can be whole, maybe for the first time in her life."

"I love you, Dad. I have to go, more Pack drama to deal with."

Charles laughed. "I remember those days. Go, I'll call you tomorrow night."

---

Treasure shivered against the cold as she sat in the wheelchair, waiting for her Mom to drive her car around to pick her up. She had entered the psychiatric ward at the Mayo Clinic the first week in January, and now she was leaving Regions Hospital in St. Paul in the first week of March. The coldest part of winter had passed while she was locked away in the hospitals, and now she was coming out to the snowiest part. Six inches of wet snow had fallen the night before, and parts of the lot were still being cleared. "Good luck, Rea," the nurse said as the car stopped in front of her.

"Thank you, Nurse Miller," she said as she stood up. Her art supplies had already been taken home, and she had left a painting of her favorite nurses at the nursing station as she left. They had been so helpful to her over the past month since her sudden arrival. When her Mom had found out what had happened while she slept, she had her transferred to the Twin Cities hospital by dinnertime that night. The police investigation and DNA testing proved the men had assaulted her, and both had pleaded guilty last week. The hospital was eager to put the incident behind them, and quickly settled with her lawyer. The $250,000 settlement would cover her college and anything else she would need and was already deposited in a bank account for her.

She got into the car and buckled the seatbelt, placing the bag with her new drugs in the back seat. It had taken them a few weeks to find the right mix; after the attack, she heard the voice when she was trying to take a nap that afternoon. "We did nothing wrong," it told her.

"We bit a man's fingers off," she argued, the pain coming forward, but she was too tired to fight it.

"No man should touch us except our mate," the voice said. The pain went away, and she only told the doctors at the new hospital she heard it, not what it said. The voice confused her, and she already felt terrible about hurting someone again, even if they did deserve it.

The voices and the pain didn't return, and she was finally cleared to go home. She had weekly therapy sessions, she had a tracking necklace again, and she had drug therapy, but she was going HOME and it felt great.

They arrived home to a dark house, and her Mom pulled into the garage and they went directly into the kitchen. She didn't say anything, but Rea was kind of disappointed nobody was there to greet them. Of course, who would be there? She had exactly ONE friend, Jenny, and she was at basketball practice. Her grandmother was back in Florida. Nobody else in this town wanted to be with her, and tears started to flow as she realized she was even more alone than she was before. "Treasure, it's going to be all right." Her Mom pulled her into a hug as she let out the tears.

When she was done, her Mom made hot chocolate and they went to sit in the living room. She had removed all of the reminders of her husband, making the big house seem even more empty and impersonal. Rea took a sip, then set it down and looked at her Mom. "I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to be ME anymore," she said. "I wish we could just go somewhere else, where I'd have a different name, and nobody would know me or what I did. I just want to be NORMAL again."