5. Harper #3
Still no response, but Harper caught the slight shift in Lila's posture that suggested she was listening despite her apparent disengagement.
"I'm not a kid," Lila said suddenly, her voice carrying a note of irritation that Harper recognized as a test.
"Of course not," Harper replied easily. "You're a young woman, and from what I can tell, a very talented one."
Harper gestured toward the artwork covering the walls.
"Did you create all of these pieces yourself?"
Finally, Lila turned to look at her, and Harper caught that familiar expression—the careful assessment, the search for deception or ill intentions. It was a look Harper had perfected in her own youth and still found herself wearing more often than she cared to admit.
"Yes, I did all these drawings and paintings myself," Lila said, a note of pride creeping into her voice despite her guarded demeanor. "I even won a few awards for them."
"That's incredible," Harper said, and meant it. "You should be really proud of yourself. I'm sure your brother is really proud of you too."
The moment the words left her mouth, Harper saw Lila's entire body tense, her expression shuttering closed again.
"All my brother cares about these days is keeping me locked up in this house," Lila said bitterly. "And making Marty, his Beta, be my personal bodyguard whenever I go anywhere, like to school. I can't even breathe without someone watching me."
"I'm sure your brother just wants to keep you safe after the attack," Harper said gently.
The word 'attack' made Lila flinch visibly, her hands clenching in her lap. Harper immediately recognized the shutdown beginning and smoothly changed direction.
"Can you tell me more about yourself? Besides your artwork, do you have friends? A boyfriend? Any ideas about what you want to do after high school?"
Lila looked at her with something that might've been surprise, her head tilting slightly as if she was reassessing Harper's intentions.
"You're not like any of the other therapists I've had," she said slowly. "None of them would've let me have a session in my room. None of them asked about me like they actually wanted to get to know me. They just sat there with notebooks and pens, looking clinical and detached."
Harper smiled. "My approach is probably unconventional, but I've found that trust and honesty and comfort are more important than following rigid protocols. If those things aren't present, it's hard for real healing to happen."
Lila studied her face again, that searching look that Harper knew was checking for authenticity, for signs that this was just another adult who would disappoint or abandon her.
"I had some good friends," Lila said finally. "And there was this boy I had a crush on. But after the attack, after Dorian went all overprotective and controlling, I just shut everyone out. It was easier than trying to explain why I couldn't hang out anymore, why I couldn't be normal."
The pain in those words hit Harper squarely in the chest. She was seeing such clear parallels between Lila's situation and her own teenage years—the way trauma could make you feel responsible for managing everyone else's emotions, the instinct to make yourself smaller and more manageable to avoid causing additional stress.
"Maybe you could reach out to them," Harper suggested carefully. "See if any of them want to hang out."
Lila let out a bitter laugh. "Dorian won't let that happen. The big Alpha who knows everything, who controls everything."
"Maybe I could talk to him," Harper said. "See if he's willing to work with us on this."
Lila's eyes widened. "You would do that? No one stands up to my brother. Ever."
"I'm not too worried about him," Harper said with more confidence than she felt. "I think I know how to get through to him."
"Good luck with that," Lila muttered, but there was something in her expression that might have been hope.
"How about we end here for today?" Harper said, sensing that she'd pushed as far as she could in this first session. "We can meet tomorrow if you're up for it."
She expected Lila to push her away, to retreat back into the defensive shell that had protected her for months. Instead, the girl looked at her with something approaching curiosity.
"Sure," Lila said.
Harper stood, pleased by the small victory. "Great. And if you want to talk to me outside of our sessions, you certainly can. I'll be staying here for the next few weeks, so there's no sense in acting like strangers or avoiding each other, right?"
Lila actually smiled—a small, tentative expression that transformed her entire face. "Right."
As Harper left the room, she felt a cautious optimism building in her chest. Maybe she had gotten through just enough to this traumatized girl. Maybe she really could help Lila find her way back to herself.
But as she closed the door behind her, Harper couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that helping Lila was going to require navigating the complex dynamics of this family—particularly the intensely protective Alpha who seemed determined to shield his sister from any possibility of further harm, even if that meant keeping her trapped in a prison of his own making.