"Can we talk about your attack?" Harper asked gently. "Do you feel comfortable explaining what happened so I can better understand your experience? It will help us move forward and process everything more effectively."
Lila took a deep breath, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "Yes, I guess so."
Harper waited patiently, letting the silence stretch until Lila was ready to speak.
"It was three months ago," Lila began, her voice barely a whisper. "I was home alone. Grandmother Evelyn had left forthe evening, and Dorian was out of town on an important job. I thought everything was fine because it had been for years. Sure, there had been some conflicts near town, but nothing ever reached the estate."
Harper nodded encouragingly, her professional training keeping her expression neutral despite the growing knot of dread in her stomach.
"I was just falling asleep when I heard something," Lila continued, her breathing becoming shallow. "The house was quiet and dark, and then suddenly there was this man in my room. I'd never experienced anything like that before—I was terrified he would hurt me, assault me. I'd heard stories about what happened when I was a baby, the night my parents were murdered here."
Harper's own childhood trauma threatened to bleed through her professional composure. She'd been exactly Lila's age when her stepfather's abuse had escalated, when she'd learned that sometimes the people who were supposed to protect you simply didn't.
"I panicked," Lila whispered, her hand unconsciously moving to her collarbone where Harper could see the edge of a scar beneath her sweater. "I got out of bed and tried to run, but he caught me. Pinned me down in the hallway. He was trying to assault me, and he scratched me here." She pulled her sweater aside slightly, revealing the scar. "I thought that was it, that he was going to—" Her voice broke.
Harper leaned forward slightly, offering silent support while fighting her own emotional response. The parallels to her own experience were too close, too raw.
"But then I shifted," Lila continued, strength returning to her voice. "Into my wolf form. It gave me the time and strength to escape before he could do something horrible. I ran into the forest and hid there until I saw Dorian's truck pull intothe driveway. Then I shifted back and ran to him—naked and bleeding and terrified."
"And he's never let you out of his sight since," Harper finished softly.
"Not without constant supervision," Lila confirmed. "Him, Marty, or Grandmother always watching, always worried."
Harper took a moment to process the story, her heart aching for this brave young woman who'd survived something unthinkable. The clinical part of her mind cataloged the trauma responses, the protective mechanisms, the way Lila's family had reacted with hypervigilance. But the human part of her—the part that remembered being seventeen and terrified and alone—wanted to wrap Lila in her arms and promise that she was safe now.
"Harper?" Lila's voice cut through her thoughts. "Are you okay?"
Harper cleared her throat, forcing herself back to the present. "Yes, I'm okay. Thank you for asking and thank you for sharing what happened to you." She met Lila's gaze directly. "You were incredibly brave, Lila. Your quick thinking and strength saved your life. I want you to remember that—to reinforce those positive thoughts about your own resilience every day."
Lila's eyes brightened slightly at the praise, some of the shame and fear lifting from her expression.
"Why don't we end here for today?" Harper suggested. "We can go inside and I'll help you get ready for your night out with friends, if you'd like."
"Really?" Lila's face lit up with genuine excitement. "That would be nice. I've only ever had female advice from Grandmother."
As they rose from the porch swing and headed back into the estate, Harper had the unsettling feeling that she wascrossing another professional line. Helping a client get ready for a social event wasn't exactly standard therapeutic practice. But something about it felt right, natural even.
Maybe it's a little too much bonding,she thought as they climbed the stairs together, Lila chattering excitedly about what to wear.But sometimes healing happens outside the textbook.
Two hours melted away like snow in spring sunshine as Harper found herself swept into the surprisingly intimate ritual of helping Lila prepare for her evening out. The girl's bedroom had transformed into a whirlwind of discarded clothing options and animated chatter about which lip gloss would look best with her chosen sweater. Harper discovered that beneath Lila's trauma lay a vibrant seventeen-year-old who'd simply been buried under months of fear and isolation.
"What about this one?" Lila held up a soft lavender cardigan against her frame, studying her reflection in the antique mirror that dominated one wall.
"Perfect," Harper agreed, noting how the color brought out the blue in Lila's eyes. "It's casual enough for the diner but still pretty for the basketball game."
Lila beamed at the approval, and Harper felt a pang of something she couldn't quite name. This felt less like professional counseling and more like the sister relationship she'd never had growing up as an only child in a house where survival took precedence over bonding.
Harper stood up and smoothed down her own sweater. "I'm going to freshen up and I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes."
"Alright, Harper. Thanks for everything," Lila said with a soft smile.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, standing in the grand foyer beneath the crystal chandelier that cast rainbow prisms across the polished floors, Harper smoothed her own dark jeans andred sweater. She'd chosen comfort over style, but something about the way the soft wool hugged her curves made her feel more feminine than usual.
Not that it matters,she reminded herself firmly.Dorian's been conspicuously absent all day.
For someone who'd barely let Lila out of his sight for months, his complete disappearance felt oddly significant.
"Here." Lila appeared at the bottom of the staircase, dangling a set of keys that caught the light. "Dorian wants you to drive."
