You're Safe Now

Shadows cling to the cracked sidewalk as a trembling waif, Whitney Wright, creeps toward the social worker's door, her eyes darting like a cornered animal, paranoia twisting her fragile frame. A passing car's growl makes her flinch, breath ragged, arms wrapping tight around her body for the solace stolen from her in endless nights of hell. She pauses on the stoop, steeling her nerves— she can face this. Her fist rises to knock, but the door swings wide, unveiling Derrick Pierce's disarming grin. She jolts, and he murmurs regret, admitting he spotted her through the pane. Approachable, he names her Lily, declares himself Aiden Taylor, her guide through the wreckage, and ushers her into the warm lair. Tension eases a fraction under his velvet words. Inside, she stammers thanks for the summons, unease flickering as she questions the home visit over the sterile office. Aiden's voice smooths the edge: he prefers this den for shattered souls like his charges—distrustful ones, maybe her—where cozy walls melt barriers better than icy boardrooms. He's handled countless broken cases; here, trust simmers easiest, especially for the haunted.