Chapter 144 Dawn With Her
Rowan's POV
Dawn comes quietly to the estate.
I’m sitting on the back terrace, coffee in hand, watching the sky lighten from deep purple to soft pink. The lake is perfectly still, reflecting the changing colors like a mirror that hasn’t been touched. Mist rises from the water in ethereal wisps, curling upward before dissolving into the cool morning air. Peaceful.
Exactly the kind of morning that makes you understand why our family has kept this place for generations—because some things are worth protecting, worth returning to, worth waking up early for.
The estate is silent. Everyone is still asleep after yesterday’s intensive training session. Everyone except me. I’ve always been an early riser. Some of my best thinking happens in these quiet hours before the world wakes up and starts demanding things.
I’m contemplating next steps—how to protect Malia from the school's scrutiny, how to counter Vesper’s relentless monitoring, how to keep her training consistent without drawing more attention—when I hear the terrace door open softly behind me.
Malia walks out, wrapped in one of Aiden’s oversized hoodies that drowns her small frame. The sleeves hang past her fingertips; the hem brushes mid-thigh. Her hair is messy from sleep, waves falling loose around her shoulders. Bare feet pad across the cool stone tiles. She looks—soft. Peaceful. Young in a way she hasn’t looked in weeks.
Well, it kinda makes me jealous.
She sees me and smiles. A real smile that reaches her eyes, crinkling the corners in that small, genuine way that always makes my chest tighten.
“Morning,” she says quietly, not wanting to disturb the stillness. “Mind if I join you?”
“Please.” I gesture to the chair beside me. “Coffee?”
“God, yes.” She sinks into the seat with a small sigh of relief, tucking her legs under her. “How are you already awake and functional? It’s barely dawn.”
I pour her a cup from the carafe I brought out earlier. The steam curls upward between us. “Years of practice. Plus, this is the best time of day. Everything’s quiet. Calm. Before chaos takes over.”
She wraps both hands around the mug, breathing in the steam like it’s medicine. “It’s beautiful here. I can see why your family loves it.”
“It’s home.” I lean back in my chair, watching the mist drift across the lake. “Or—one of our homes. The real one, though. Campus is where we live. This is where we belong.”
She’s quiet for a moment, sipping slowly, taking in the view. Then she shifts slightly closer, and I feel rather than see her relax. The tension she’s been carrying for weeks seems to loosen another notch in this light.
I reach over without thinking too hard about it, take her free hand gently. Her fingers are cold from the morning air. I warm them between both of mine, rubbing slow circles with my thumbs. Then—still not overthinking—I lift them to my lips and press a soft kiss to her knuckles.
She smiles. Doesn’t pull away. Just lets me hold her hand while we watch the sunrise together.
“Thank you,” she says after a while. “For yesterday. For organizing all of this. For believing I could do it.”
“You did all the hard work.” I shrug lightly. “I just—facilitated.”
“You did more than that.” She squeezes my hand. “You’ve been doing more than that since the beginning. Quietly fixing things. Protecting me. Fighting for me without making it obvious.”
“Someone has to be the quiet one.” I give her fingers a small squeeze in return. “Aiden’s the commanding presence. Cian’s the strategic mind. I’m just—the one who handles details.”
“You’re more than that.” She turns to look at me directly. Eyes serious. Open. “You’re the observer. The one who sees everything. The one who notices what everyone else misses. That’s not just details, Rowan. That’s—crucial. Essential.”
The sincerity in her voice makes my chest warm in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“Besides,” she continues, leaning her head gently on my shoulder, “you give the best relationship advice. Remember the island? When I was spiraling about all three of you? You talked me through it.”
“I remember.” I smile at the memory. “You were convinced you had to choose. That loving all three of us was wrong somehow.”
“You told me it wasn’t. That pack bonds don’t work like traditional relationships. That I was allowed to love all of you differently and completely.” She sighs contentedly against my hoodie. “You were right. About everything.”
“I’m occasionally right.” I press my cheek lightly to the top of her head. “Broken clock and all that.”
She laughs softly—the sound bright and unguarded in the cool morning air. We fall into comfortable silence, watching the sky continue to brighten. Pink giving way to gold. The mist burning off the lake in slow, drifting ribbons. Birds beginning their morning songs—soft chirps, distant calls, the first real sound of the day waking up.
“Can I ask you something?” she says after a while.
“Always.”
“Do you really think I can do this?” Her voice is quieter now. Vulnerable. “Not just access my wolf—yesterday proved that’s possible. But—everything else. Controlling abilities I don’t understand. Standing up to the Council. Being—” She stops. Swallows. “Being what they say I am. A Mooncrest heir.”
I consider my answer carefully. This isn’t a moment for easy reassurance. She deserves honesty.
“Honestly?” I say quietly. “I think you’re already doing it. You survived Vesper’s campaign. Survived the preserve. Survived being expelled and having that reversed. Survived wolf attacks and public humiliation and betrayals. You’re still here. Still fighting. That’s not weakness, Malia. That’s incredible strength.”
“Surviving isn’t the same as thriving.”
“No. But it’s the first step.” I shift slightly so I can see her face better. “Yesterday you took the second step—learning to work with your abilities instead of against them. Eventually, you’ll take the third step. Then the fourth. Until surviving becomes thriving. Until being a Mooncrest heir isn’t a burden you carry but a power you wield.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not simple. It’s going to be hard. Probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done.” I’m honest because she deserves honesty. “But Malia—you’re going to be incredible. Powerful. The kind of Luna that makes history.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me fully. “You really believe that?”
“Completely.” No hesitation. “I’ve seen how you fight. How you protect people you care about. How you push through pain and fear to do what’s necessary. That’s alpha quality. Luna quality. Mooncrest quality. You just need to believe it yourself.”
“What if I never do?” she whispers.
The question isn’t dramatic. It isn’t loud. It’s small. Honest. Raw.
I exhale slowly, watching the sun edge fully over the trees, gold light spilling across the terrace stones.
“Then we’ll believe it for you,” I say quietly. “Until you’re ready.”
She studies my face like she’s trying to see if I mean it.
I do.
“Malia,” I continue, voice low, “do you know what the difference is between someone powerful and someone dangerous?”
She shakes her head slightly.
“Control. Power without control is dangerous. But power with heart? With restraint? With empathy?” I squeeze her hand gently. “That’s leadership.”
A faint breeze moves across the terrace, lifting strands of her hair. She shifts closer to me again, resting her head fully against my shoulder now. I can feel the warmth of her through the hoodie, the steady rhythm of her breathing.
“I don’t feel powerful,” she admits softly. “Half the time I feel like I’m barely holding it together.”
I smile faintly. “That’s because you care. The worst leaders are the ones who never doubt themselves.”
She lets out a small huff of laughter. “So my anxiety is a good sign?”
“In moderation? Yes.” I nudge her gently with my shoulder. “Besides, yesterday proved something important.”
“What?”
“You didn’t just access your wolf. You listened to it. You didn’t force it. You didn’t dominate it. You worked with it.” I glance down at her. “That’s rare.”
She’s quiet, absorbing that.
The estate begins to wake slowly—somewhere inside, a door closes. Footsteps. Probably Cian already up and reviewing security logs because he doesn’t know how to relax.
“Rowan?” she says softly, almost hesitant.
“Hmm?”
She tilts her head so she can see me better. “You joked yesterday about me having the next powerful lungs.”
I grin. “You do. That shout nearly knocked Aiden off his feet.”
She laughs, the sound bright in the cool morning air. “He looked so offended.”
“He was. No one likes being outperformed.” I pause, studying her thoughtfully. “But it wasn’t just volume. It was resonance. You tapped into something deeper. That kind of projection? That’s command energy.”
“Command energy,” she repeats, amused.
“Yes. The kind that makes people listen even when you’re whispering.” I brush my thumb over her knuckles absentmindedly. “You have that. You just don’t see it yet.”
She watches the lake, thoughtful.
“I used to think strength meant being loud,” she says after a moment. “Being intimidating. Like Vesper.”
At the mention of that name, something cold settles in my chest. I keep my tone calm. “Vesper confuses fear with respect. They aren’t the same.”
“I know that now.” Her voice is steady. “Fear makes people obey. Respect makes them follow.”
I look at her sharply, quietly impressed.
She smiles faintly. “I’ve been paying attention.”
“You have,” I admit. “More than anyone realizes.”
Silence settles between us again—but it’s comfortable. Warm.
The sun climbs higher, gold light spilling across the terrace stones. It catches in her hair, making it glow. She looks softer in daylight. Less haunted than she did weeks ago.
“I’m glad you came.”
She turns slightly toward me again. “You’re always steady, Rowan. Even when everything’s chaos.”
“That’s because I let Aiden and Cian do the visible chaos,” I say dryly. “I prefer the background.”
“But you’re not background.” Her voice firms. “You’re the anchor.”
The word hits harder than I expect.
Anchor.
No one’s ever called me that before.
“I don’t mind being the quiet one,” I say carefully. “Every pack needs balance. Aiden’s fire. Cian’s steel. I’m…” I shrug lightly. “Water, maybe.”
She smiles. “Water can carve through stone.”
I look away toward the lake because her words feel too close to something vulnerable.
She reaches up with her free hand, gently turning my face back toward her. There’s nothing dramatic in her expression. Just certainty.
“You matter more than you think you do.”
My throat tightens unexpectedly.
I cover her hand with mine. “Careful. You keep saying things like that, and I might start expecting praise regularly.”
She laughs, the sound soft and genuine. “Don’t get used to it.”
We sit like that for a while—her head against my shoulder again, my fingers laced loosely with hers.