"Emergency consultation," Harper had explained, which wasn't exactly a lie. "A teenage trauma case in Washington."
Dr. Morrison's warm laugh had carried through the phone. "You're an angel, Harper. Go help that child."
Standing on the sidewalk now, Harper felt more like a woman who'd just agreed to something far beyond her expertise. Sure, she'd helped dozens of teenagers work through traumaticevents—abuse, neglect, violence, and loss. But a shifter community? Pack politics she barely understood? An Alpha who might be intimidating?
One step at a time,she reminded herself, the same advice she gave anxious clients.Focus on what you can control.
The rumble of an engine pulled her attention to the street, where a sleek red convertible rounded the corner with confident precision. There, in the driver's seat, was Gerri Wilder—her white hair perfectly styled despite the open car, designer sunglasses, and a smile bright enough to power the city grid.
"Ready for an adventure, dear?" she called out as she pulled up alongside the curb.
Harper stepped forward and hefted her suitcase toward the convertible's compact backseat, already questioning the wisdom of road-tripping in a car designed more for style than practicality with a woman she just met yesterday. "Ready as I'll ever be."
The leather seat was buttery soft as Harper settled into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt, giving one last glimpse at the community center where Harper had transformed many lives in the past five years. Then Gerri pulled away from the curb with the kind of smooth acceleration that suggested serious horsepower under the hood, and Harper found herself gripping the seat.
This might be the most impulsive thing I've ever done.
Actually, it definitely was. Harper's life ran on schedules, predictability, and careful risk assessment. Spontaneous decisions belonged to other people—the kind who didn't spend their childhoods learning to read emotional weather patterns and navigate around explosive tempers.
But something about this felt right in a way she couldn't explain. Not just the opportunity to help an innocent girl, but the chance to step outside her carefully constructed routine. To breathe different air, see different scenery, maybe rememberwhat it felt like to want something beyond the next client appointment.
The first hour passed in comfortable silence, Portland's urban sprawl giving way to rolling hills dotted with farms and vineyards. Gerri seemed content to let Harper process, occasionally humming along to jazz standards on the radio. The convertible's top remained down, and Harper found herself relaxing into the rhythm of wind and engine noise.
But as the second hour approached, curiosity finally won over politeness.
"Can I ask you something?" Harper turned in her seat to study Gerri's profile. "Why did you call our community center? There are more established organizations, bigger names in trauma counseling."
Gerri's smile held secrets. "Lila has been treated by many different experts, local and otherwise. Traditional therapy, grief counseling, even some alternative approaches. But she needs someone who understands troubled youth from the inside out."
"And Bella told you I fit that description?"
"Bella told me about your work, your instincts with difficult cases, your ability to reach kids everyone else has given up on." Gerri glanced over, her eyes shifting from blue to gold in the light. "The moment she described you, I knew you were perfect for this situation."
Harper still felt like she was missing crucial pieces of the puzzle. "But surely there are counselors closer to Washington?—"
"Sometimes the universe has its own agenda, dear."
The non-answer felt deliberate, but Harper decided to let it go. Maybe this was just serendipity—an opportunity arriving precisely when she needed a change of scenery.
"Well, tell me about the town," Harper said instead. "And the people I'll be around."
Gerri's expression grew more serious. "It's a very close-knit wolf pack that's endured significant trauma over the decades. This recent attack three months ago was just the latest in a long-running territorial dispute between the Holt pack and their neighboring rival."
Harper's stomach dropped. "A turf war? I'm walking into an active conflict zone?"
"The immediate danger has passed, but yes—these people have lived with violence and instability for generations. They're proud, protective, and not particularly trusting of outsiders." Gerri navigated a winding mountain curve with practiced ease. "The pack is essentially one large, complicated family dealing with collective trauma and individual wounds."
Just great.
Harper had worked with families in crisis before, but never an entire community bound by supernatural politics she barely comprehended. "And their leadership structure?"
"Wolf packs are led by the Alpha—think CEO, military commander, and protective father figure rolled into one very intense package." Gerri's smile turned almost mischievous. "In this case, that's Lila's older brother, Dorian. He's been holding the pack together for a very long time, along with their grandmother Evelyn."
Harper processed this information with growing unease. An Alpha brother who was also Lila's guardian? The family dynamics alone would be complicated enough without adding pack leadership and territorial conflicts to the mix.
"How long has he been Alpha?" Harper asked.
"Since he was seventeen. Dorian inherited the position when his parents were killed in the previous major attack."
