Chapter 136 Moving Forward
Rowan's POV
Morning comes too early and too bright.
Sunlight streams through the suite's windows, catching dust motes in the air. I'm already awake—never really slept much after everything yesterday. Too much information. Too many implications. Too many ways this could all go sideways.
I'm making coffee in the kitchen when I hear Aiden's door open. Footsteps—two sets. He emerges first, Malia following close behind, still wearing his t-shirt from last night with her jeans from yesterday. Her hair's messy, eyes still heavy with sleep, but she looks—calmer. More grounded than when she ran out last night.
"Morning," I say, pouring three cups. "Figured you'd need this."
"You figured right." Aiden takes two cups, hands one to Malia. She wraps both hands around it like she's trying to absorb the warmth.
Cian appears from his room, already dressed, hair damp from a shower. "We meeting?"
"Yeah." I gesture to the living room. "July and Freddy are on their way. We need to talk. All of us. Figure out next steps."
Malia tenses slightly. Aiden's hand finds her lower back, steadying.
"It's okay," he murmurs to her. "Just pack. Just people who care about you."
She nods. Follows him to the couch. He sits first, pulls her down beside him. She immediately tucks into his side, head on his chest, clearly seeking comfort in the contact.
A knock on the door. I open it to find July and Freddy, both carrying coffee and what looks like pastries from the campus café.
"Figured everyone would need breakfast," July says, heading straight for the coffee table to set things down. Her eyes land on Malia. "Hey. How are you holding up?"
"I'm—" Malia stops. "Here. I'm here."
"That's a start." Freddy drops onto the other couch. "So. Mooncrest heir. That's—wow."
"That's one word for it," Malia mutters into Aiden's chest.
We settle in—Cian and I taking chairs, July perching on the arm of Freddy's couch. The research documents are still spread across the table from last night. Evidence of bloodlines and genetics and historical documentation.
"Okay," I start, setting my coffee down. "Let's talk through this. Systematically. Figure out what we know, what we don't know, and what we need to do."
"What we know," Cian begins, pulling out his notes, "is that Malia's genetic markers match historical documentation of Aurora Mooncrest's bloodline. The abilities she's manifesting—the gold eyes, the impossible strength, the forced transformation—all consistent with accounts of Aurora's powers."
"What we don't know," I continue, "is how direct the connection is. Daughter versus granddaughter. Whether Aurora is actually dead or just—gone. What happened to make her disappear into the human world. Why Malia's father never told her the truth."
"He might not have known," July suggests. "If Aurora deliberately hid her identity, raised Malia's father—or his wife, depending on the timeline—as completely human, he might have genuinely thought Malia was just a hybrid with unusual genetics."
"Possible." Cian makes a note. "Which means the concealment was extremely thorough. Multiple generations of hiding."
Malia shifts against Aiden. "Why go to that much trouble? Why hide so completely?"
"Protection," Freddy says. "Had to be. Aurora Mooncrest was one of the most powerful Lunas in history. She founded this school, established territorial laws, was involved in supernatural politics at the highest levels. Having a child, an heir—that would have been incredibly dangerous politically."
"So she disappeared," I pick up the thread. "Went into the human world. Had a child—or children—away from supernatural society. Kept them completely hidden. Probably never told them what they really were."
"Until the abilities started manifesting anyway." Cian looks at Malia. "Which they did with you. Probably would have with your father too if he'd lived long enough. The bloodline doesn't just disappear because you hide it. It waits."
"That's—" Malia stops. Processes. "That's why my father always said my genetics were 'complicated.' Why he never fully explained my mother's side. He probably knew something was different but didn't understand what."
"And then he died before he could figure it out," Aiden says quietly, hand rubbing slow circles on her back. "Before he could warn you what was coming."
Silence for a moment. Heavy with the weight of what Malia lost when her father died. Not just a parent but information. Context. Answers she desperately needs now.
"So what do we do?" July asks practically. "About the abilities. About people who might figure out what she is. About—all of it."
"First priority," I say, "is helping Malia learn to control her abilities. The preserve forced a transformation she wasn't ready for. That can't happen again."
"But how?" Malia looks up. "I don't even understand what I'm doing when the power surges. It just—happens. I can't control it."
"Because you're fighting it," Cian says. "Every time the abilities manifest, you panic and try to shut them down. That creates internal conflict. The power fights back."
"So I should just—let it happen?" She sounds skeptical.
"No. You should work with it instead of against it." He leans forward. "Think of it like—like learning to swim. If you panic and thrash, you drown. But if you relax, breathe, work with the water instead of fighting it—you float."
"Poetic," Freddy mutters. "But he's right. Resisting the power probably makes it more unstable. Learning to channel it, control it consciously—that's the goal."
"But I don't know how to do that," Malia says. "I've never been taught. Never had anyone show me—"
"Then we figure it out together." Aiden's voice is firm. "We research. We experiment. We find people who understand bloodline abilities if any still exist. We make it work."
"Second priority," I continue, "is controlling information. Right now, only people in this room know about the Mooncrest connection. Let's keep it that way."
"Agreed." July nods. "The fewer people who know, the safer she is. No telling who might try to use that information."
"Vesper already suspects something," Cian points out. "Those men in suits she was talking to—they were discussing containment. Bloodline questions. They're already monitoring."
"But they don't have proof," I counter. "Just suspicions. As long as we don't confirm anything, they can't act on speculation alone."
"What about training though?" Freddy asks. "If Malia needs to learn control, won't that involve—I don't know, practicing? Using her abilities where people might see?"
Good point. I look at Cian. "The preserve?"
"Too risky. That's where she lost control last time. The territorial magic there is too amplifying." He thinks. "We need somewhere isolated. Away from campus. Somewhere we can practice without witnesses."
"The old Moonfall estate," Aiden says suddenly. "The summer house. It's remote, on private land, nobody goes there during the school year. We could use it on weekends."
"That could work." I nod slowly. "Isolated enough for privacy. Close enough to get to regularly. And being Moonfall property means we don't need permission."
Malia's been quiet through most of this, just listening, absorbing. Now she speaks up. "You're all willing to do this? Help me figure out abilities I don't understand? Risk people finding out you're helping conceal a Mooncrest heir?"
"Yes." All of us say it at once. Unanimous.
"But why?" She looks around at all of us. "This isn't your problem. This isn't your risk. Why take it on?"
"Because you're pack," July says simply. "And pack doesn't abandon each other when things get complicated. We lean in."
"Besides," Freddy adds, "this is way more interesting than regular college drama. Supernatural bloodline mysteries? Secret abilities? Way better than worrying about midterms."
That gets a small laugh from Malia. First genuine laugh I've heard from her since yesterday.
"Third priority," Cian says, pulling us back on track. "Lydia's hearing is today. We need to make sure her confession sticks. That she faces real consequences. That sends a message—you don't get to target Malia without repercussions."
"I'll be there," Aiden says. "As the supposed victim. Making sure McLunar understands the full context."
"I'll come too," I add. "Document everything. Make sure there's a record."
Malia shifts uncomfortably. "I don't want to see her. I know that makes me weak but—"
"It doesn't make you weak." Aiden's voice is gentle. "It makes you human. You don't have to attend. Let us handle it."
"Final priority," I say, "is just—living. Getting back to some kind of normal. Malia, you're staying. Your expulsion's reversed. You have pack. You have people who know the truth now and will help you figure it out. That's enough for today."
She nods slowly. Processing. Accepting.
"One day at a time," she says quietly.
"Exactly." Aiden presses a kiss to her temple. "One day at a time."
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment. The weight of everything acknowledged but not overwhelming. Plans made. Support established. Pack unified.
"So," July says, breaking the silence. "Who wants pastries? Because Freddy bought like fifteen and I'm not eating them all myself."
"Stress eating is a valid coping mechanism," Freddy protests, but he's already reaching for the bag.
Normal conversation resumes. Easier topics. Campus gossip. Upcoming assignments. The kind of mundane details that ground us all.
Malia stays tucked against Aiden, quiet but present. Listening. Occasionally contributing. Looking less overwhelmed than yesterday. Still processing but not alone in it.
That's progress.
Not perfect. Not solved. But progress and right now, that's enough.
We'll figure out the rest. The abilities, the bloodline. The implications.
Together.
One day at a time, like pack does.