Lila set down her pencil and met his gaze directly. "What did Harper say to make you change your mind?"
The question hit deeper than it should have. Harper had done more than convince him to let Lila see her friends—she'dmade him realize how his protective instincts had become a cage.
"She told me it was important for you to stay connected with your friends," Dorian said carefully. "I'm sorry I didn't realize that until now. Sorry I made you feel like you couldn't."
"It's not all your fault." Lila's voice went soft, vulnerable. "I shut my friends out because it was easier that way. Less complicated than explaining why loud noises made me jump or shadows made me have a panic attack. Less complicated than explaining why my brother was beyond overprotective."
The admission gutted him. His fierce, artistic sister had been shrinking herself to manage his fears. The realization felt like taking claws to the chest.
"You don't have to make yourself smaller for my sake, Lila." His voice came out rough.
Before the conversation could strip him completely bare, Dorian pushed away from the doorframe. If he stayed much longer, he'd start talking about Harper, about mate bonds, about how thoroughly one woman had dismantled eighteen years of careful control in less than three days.
"Enjoy your time with your friends," he said instead, already backing toward the stairs.
What is happening to me?
The thought followed him as he strode through the estate and out into the crisp mountain morning. He was cracking, coming apart at the seams, and he couldn't tell if it was the stress of holding everything together for too long or Harper systematically demolishing every wall he'd built.
Maybe it was realizing that his control hadn't protected anyone—it had just isolated them all.
Dorian chose to walk the few miles into town, hoping the cold air and physical exertion would clear his head. But with each step, his wolf grew more agitated, more demanding.
Go back. Claim what's ours. Make her understand.
"She's not ready," Dorian growled aloud, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. "And I can't lose her. Not when Lila needs her."
Even if denying his wolf's demands felt like slowly bleeding out, he'd endure it. He had to.
His pack and Lila were counting on him to hold everything together.
Hours later, the rhythmic pounding of hammers against damaged wood should have been therapeutic. Instead, each strike felt like another reminder that Dorian's carefully constructed world was crumbling faster than he could repair it.
He drove another nail into the siding of Mrs. Murphy's bakery with more force than necessary, the impact reverberating up his arm. Three months after the attack, half the businesses on Main Street still bore scars—replaced windows, damaged siding, landscaping in various stages of repair.
Just like his pack. Just like himself.
"Easy there, Alpha." Marty's voice carried from the ladder beside him, where his Beta was meticulously replacing damaged trim work. "That poor nail didn't do anything wrong."
Dorian grunted, positioning another piece of siding. The physical labor usually grounded him, gave his wolf something constructive to channel its restless energy into. Today it felt like trying to hold back a dam with his bare hands.
Harper.
Her name echoed through his thoughts like a prayer and a curse. The memory of her soft mouth and talented tongue, the way she'd melted into him for those perfect seconds before reality crashed back—it was driving him insane. His wolf prowled fiercely, demanding he return to the estate immediately and claim what belonged to them.
"You know," Marty continued conversationally, "my Sarah was telling me about this new recipe she wants to try. Something with cinnamon and apples. Says it reminds her of her grandmother's kitchen."
Dorian's hammer paused mid-swing. Marty rarely talked about his mate unless something was bothering him—or unless he was trying to make a point.
"The thing about mates," Marty pressed on, his tone deceptively casual, "is they have a way of making everything else fade into background noise. Sarah could be reading the phone book, and I'd rather listen to her than anyone else's profound wisdom."
The siding cracked under Dorian's next strike. He cursed under his breath, tossing the ruined piece aside.
"What's wrong with you today?" Marty climbed down from his ladder, his sandy brown hair catching the afternoon sunlight. "You've been more brooding than usual. More exhausted too, if that's even possible."
Dorian should deflect. Should give his standard response about pack business and territorial concerns. Should maintain the emotional distance that had served him well for eighteen years.
Instead, he found himself setting down his hammer and meeting his Beta's concerned gaze.
