Chapter 104 Lost In It All
Malia’s ⍴᥆᥎
July’s dorm smells like lavender and vanilla, just like always and some essential oil diffuser she’s into for stress relief. Right now, I’m just thankful.
Grateful for the dim lighting, for the extra pillows she’d piled on her bed and the fact that she didn’t ask me a single question when I said I might stay the night.
"Of course you can stay," she said right away, already fetching spare blankets. "For as long as you need."
It's just us. Safe. Private. Away from the brothers who keep texting, keep calling, keep trying to find me.
I can't face them yet. Can't let them see me like this—shattered, and bleeding, and transforming into something that I don’t understand.
So I asked July to tell them I needed space.
She’s sitting cross-legged on her desk chair now, phone in hand, thumbs poised to type. “You’re sure?” she asks for a third time. "Aiden's really worried. So are Rowan and Cian. Perhaps if you just—"
"Please," I interrupted her, curled up on her bed, enveloped in one of her giant hoodies that smells like fabric softener and security. "I just – I need time. To figure things out. Until I—" My voice breaks. "Until I'm sure I won't hurt somebody else. "
July's expression softens. "You didn’t mean to hurt Victoria."
“Doesn’t matter if I meant to. I still did it.” I tug the hoodie sleeves down over my hands. “I threw her into a wall hard enough to crack concrete, July. With one punch. It’s not normal. That ain’t even normal for an alpha.”
She’s silent for a beat, then sighs. “Okay. I’ll tell them you need space. But Malia—” She looks me in the eyes. ‘They’re going to hate it.’ Not like it. Especially Aiden. He’s been calling me every twenty minutes.”
“I know.” Guilt twists in my stomach. “But I can’t— I can’t see them right now. Not until I know what’s happening to me.”
Slowly, July nods, then begins to type. I watch her face as she writes whatever it is she’s going to send, something diplomatic, something that won’t make them panic more than they already are.
My phone is off. Has been since the bathroom. I couldn’t take all the notifications, the frantic messages, the sense that I was letting everyone down just by existing.
"Done," July says, putting her phone down. “Told them you’re safe, you’re with me and you need a day or two to process everything. Aiden's not happy, but—” She shrugs. "He'll deal.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She slides off the bed and reaches for my hand as she takes a place at my side. “You don’t have to thank me. That’s what friends do.”
Freddie arrives about nine o'clock with pizza and sympathy. July must have texted him because he doesn't act surprised when I show up, he just pulls me into a tentative hug and doesn't say anything about my swollen eyes or the bruises I know are deepening on my ribs.
While setting the box on July's desk, he declares, "Pepperoni and extra cheese. Comfort food as prescribed by Dr. Freddy."
I manage a weak smile. “Thanks.”
We mostly eat in silence, a bit of mindless comedy running on July's laptop that none of us are really paying attention to. It's nice. Normal. It's just about enough to make me forget that power humming under my skin, waiting.
When Freddy leaves, about eleven o'clock, he hugs me again. "Whatever it is," he says quietly, "you're not alone. Okay?"
I nod against his shoulder, my voice betraying me.
That night, I can tell I sleep better than I have in weeks — probably because July's room isn't burdened with my nightmares yet, or maybe because having her in the next bed makes me feel less exposed.
—-----
When I wake up the next morning, there is a short, blissful moment when I do not remember everything that has happened. Then I see my hands — still faintly glowing if I look closely enough in the right light and reality comes back.
"Morning," July says from behind her desk, dressed and already scrolling on her phone. "How’d you sleep?"
"Better." Slowly I sit up, probing my ribs. Still sore but manageable. "Thanks for—everything."
“Stop thanking me.” She tosses me a granola bar. “Breakfast. You need to eat.”
I pick at it like a robot while July prepares for her morning class. She offers to skip, to stay with me, but I insist she go. I can't let my breaking point ruin her life as well, not that she would want to bet on that.
After she leaves, I remain in the silence of her room and wonder what to do next.
I can't hide forever. Sooner or later, I'll have to go to classes, go to Coach Herriman, go to hell for what happened in Combat Training. The brothers who are probably going crazy with worry.
But not yet.
Not today.
Today, I just need to be normal for a few hours. Do something that doesn't cause power surges or nightmares or bleeding for no reason.
I make a decision just before noon.
Aiden has practice this afternoon—Thursday schedule, I think, from all the times I’ve seen him play. Maybe if I go, if I see him in his element doing something normal and good, it will help. Remind me that not everything is falling apart.
That we're still us, even if I'm breaking.
I snag one of July’s hoodies, nice and cozy and with a hood big enough to hide under. Gather my hair into a messy bun. Sunglasses though it’s cloudy. Pretending not to be seen.
At the athletics complex, everything is humming when I get there. Separate groups in various areas — the basketball courts, weight room, practice fields outside. Aiden’s team is on the field. I can watch them from the bleachers — running drills, passing plays, that organized chaos that seems random until you get the strategy.
I make my way up the top row, burrowing myself into the corner where I’m least likely to draw attention. Pull the hood up. Watch.
There he is—number seventeen, light hair catching the weak sunlight, moving with that easy athleticism that first grabbed my attention freshman year. He’s focused, intense - barking out plays to his teammates.
Normal. This is normal.
I allow myself to breathe for the first time all day.
Then I see her. Oh God! Lydia.
She’s on the field — not in the stands like me watching, but on the actual field. Wearing athletic gear, her blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, laughing at something one of the guys said.
What the hell is she doing at practice?
I glance up, my stomach twisting, as the coach yells something I can’t hear at this distance. The team breaks up into two’s for some kind of drill.
And of course—of fucking course—Lydia partners with Aiden.
They're not together. Not touching. Just matched up for this defense drill or whatever this is.
But the way she moves—coming closer than she needs to, placing his arm when she speaks, laughing too loudly about one of his jokes, arranging her body so that one half of her torso is facing his—
I make my fists curl inwards.
She's all over him. Or trying to be. Like she's just messing around but she obviously has a plan that gets me so hot.
Aiden doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he is just being polite or professional. He’s all about the drill, so he’s telling some footwork thing, doing a move, explaining something.
Lydia watches with bated breath then "goes" for it atrociously, tripping in a way that seems designed to make Aiden catch her.
Which is what he does. She beams up at him, hand on his chest, says something that makes him smile slightly.
Something hot and terrible is rising in my chest. Not just jealousy. Something darker. Angrier.
The power stir up…