He'd tried focusing on pack business—reviewing security patrol schedules, checking construction timelines, anything to distract himself from the knowledge that his fated mate was sleeping in a bed upstairs. But every creak of the old house had his attention snapping upward, wondering if she was comfortable, if she needed anything, if she was thinking about what had happened between them on the front porch.
The mate bond hummed like a live wire, demanding he go to her, claim her, make sure she understood exactly what she was to him. But duty came first. It always had.
By the time five o'clock approached, Dorian's control hung by threads. He needed to collect Lila for dinner, needed to facilitate this first meeting between his sister and the woman who might be able to heal her. The woman who'd already turned his carefully ordered world upside down with a single touch.
He climbed the stairs to the second floor, his boots echoing against the hardwood he'd refinished himself during one of those sleepless nights when leadership weighed too heavily on his shoulders. Lila's door was closed, as it had been for weeks now, and he knocked gently before entering.
"Lila? Time for dinner."
His sister sat curled in the window seat he'd installed for her sixteenth birthday, knees drawn to her chest as she stared out at the darkening forest. She didn't turn when he spoke, didn't acknowledge his presence at all. The sight of her withdrawal hit him like a physical blow every single time.
"I'm not hungry."
The words came out flat, emotionless. So different from the vibrant girl who used to fill this house with laughter and music. Dorian's jaw tightened as he stepped further into the room, noting the untouched lunch tray on her desk, the textbooks that hadn't been opened in days.
"Your therapist is here, Lila. She's expecting to meet you tonight, and it would be rude not to?—"
"I don't care." Lila's voice carried a sharp edge now. "I didn't ask for another therapist. I didn't ask for some stranger to come here and poke at me like I'm a broken toy that needs fixing."
Dorian's hands clenched into fists at his sides, frustration building like pressure behind a dam. He'd tried patience, tried gentleness, tried everything he could think of to reach her. But she kept pulling away, kept retreating deeper into herself, and he was running out of options.
"She's not just some stranger. She's here because she cares about helping people like you."
She's also my mate, and I need you to at least try.
"People like me." Lila finally turned from the window, her blue-gray eyes blazing with anger. "You mean broken people. Damaged goods."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"Do I?" She stood abruptly, her small frame vibrating with suppressed emotion. "Because that's what everyone thinks now. Poor Lila, the Alpha's sister who got herself attacked because she was too weak. Poor Lila, who can't even leave her room without falling apart."
The words hit Dorian like physical blows, each one landing with devastating accuracy. This was his fault. His failure to protect her had created this wounded, angry girl who barely resembled the sister he'd raised.
"You are not weak." The words came out rough. "And you are not broken. You survived something terrible, and now you're healing. But you have to let people help you."
Lila's chin lifted in a gesture that reminded him painfully of their mother. Stubborn. Defiant. Ready to fight the world rather than show vulnerability.
"I don't want to talk to another therapist about my feelings, Dorian. I don't want to relive that night over and over again just so some professional can tell me it's normal to be afraid. I just want everyone to leave me alone."
Dorian's control frayed another inch. The mate bond pulled at him, Harper's presence a constant distraction, while his sister's pain tore at his heart. He was failing everyone, and the weight of that failure threatened to crush him.
"Fine." The word came out clipped. "You can skip dinner tonight and stay locked in your room like you have been for weeks. But you will meet with Harper tomorrow for your first session, and you'll give her a real chance to help you. That's not a request."
Lila's eyes flashed with something that might've been fear or defiance. She recognized that tone—the one that brooked no argument, the one that reminded everyone he was Alpha first and brother second.
"One session," she said finally, her voice small again. "I'll do one session with her, but that's it. After that, I'm done with therapists and healers and everyone trying to fix me."
It wasn't enough. One session wouldn't heal months of trauma, wouldn't bring back the vibrant girl who used to lightup every room she entered. But it was something, and right now Dorian would take whatever small victories he could get.
"I'll see you in the morning then."
He closed her door with deliberate gentleness, though every instinct screamed at him to demand more, to somehow force her back to the person she'd been before that terrible night. But force wouldn't heal her. Nothing he'd tried had healed her.
Maybe Harper can reach her. Maybe she can succeed where I've failed.
The thought should have been comforting. Instead, it felt like another weight added to the crushing load of his inadequacies as both Alpha and guardian.
Dorian made his way back downstairs, each step heavier than the last. He'd have to face Harper alone now, have to explain that his sister was too damaged to even attend a simple dinner. Have to sit across from his mate and pretend his entire world hadn't shifted off its axis the moment their hands touched.
