Chapter 105 Flaring
Malia's POV
...My vision flashes gold at the edges. No, not now.
With a sudden movement, I shoot to my feet, the bleachers creaking under me. I got to go. I need to get out of here before I lose it, before I do something that proves them all right, that makes them believe every terrible thing they are already saying about me.
I’m practically running down the bleacher steps, ignoring the few people who look up at the commotion. My hands are shaking again this time not from fear, but from anger I can barely contain. It’s etched in my mind, Lydia’s hand on Aiden’s chest, her perfect smile, the way she positioned herself like she belonged there, like she had a right to touch him.
I am already half way across campus when I realize that I have no idea where I'm going. Just away. Off the field, off that sight, off the rage churning in my chest that makes me feel too big for my body to hold.
My phone buzzes. July.
July: Where are you? Thought you were resting?
I make my fingers move to type back: Went for a walk. Heading back now.
July: Okay. Meet me at the café in 20? I need coffee and I have to tell you about the DRAMA in my lit class.
Me: Yeah okay.
—-
The café is warm and crowded when I get there—students everywhere, the comforting smell of coffee and pastries, the low hum of conversation. Normal college life continuing around my personal crisis.
July's already got us a table, two iced lattes waiting. She waves when she sees me, that bright smile that's been keeping me sane.
I slide into the seat across from her, wrapping my hands around the cold cup even though I'm not thirsty.
"Okay so," July launches immediately into a story about her British Literature professor and some debate over Romantic poetry or something that seem to get heated.
She's lively, waving her hands around, laughing at the things she says. I make the right sounds,pauses here and there in the narration before you jump in with How!?!! Make suitable sounds of surprise and agreement! But my mind isn't there.
It's back on that field. On Lydia's hand. On Aiden's smile. The way she nestled in like she owned a space in a room that should be mine.
"—and then Harrison literally hurled his book across the room, can you believe it? Like a full-on tantrum over Byron—Malia? You all right?"
I blink, focusing on July's worried face. "What? Yeah, sorry. Just—exhausted."
"You haven't even started your coffee." She leans forward. "What's the matter?"
Everything. Everything’s all wrong.
"Nothing," I lie. "Just thinking."
"About?"
I hesitate. Then, because I need to tell someone: "I went to watch Aiden's practice.”
July's eyebrows rise. "I thought you were resting?"
"I was. I just—wanted to see him. From a distance. Thought it might help." I stare at my untouched coffee. "Lydia was there."
"At practice?" July's tone sharpens. "Why?"
"I don't know. Some drill. They were paired together." The words taste bitter. "She was all over him."
"Was he—”
"No. He was just normal. Professional. But she—" I grip the cup tighter. "She touched him. Multiple times. Like she had the right."
July’s expression darkens. "That bitch."
"He hadn't done anything wrong," I say with urgency. "He was just—being Aiden. Helpful. Nice. But seeing her with her hands on him—" My voice drops. "I wanted to hurt her. "
"Understandable given she's the worst werewolf alive."
“No, July. I mean, really hurt her." I meet her eyes. Just as I hurt Victoria. It’s still there. The power, it's still there. "And when I saw them—" I stop, swallowing hard. "It wanted out. Craving to do something terrible.”
Processing, July is silent for just a moment. "But you didn't. You left."
"Barely."
"But you did." She leans over the table and her hand covers mine. “That’s control, Malia. That counts.”
“Really? When the only reason I didn’t do anything was because I ran away? I don’t know how much longer I can keep it contained," I say in a whisper. "It gets stronger every day More difficult to suppress."
"Then we identify the cause." July's tone is unyielding. “There must be a reason for this. Bodies don't suddenly get new powers. Especially not hybrid bodies."
She’s right. I know she’s right.
But the terror that’s been building since the nosebleeds, since the glowing hands, since I threw Victoria across a room.
What if there’s no answer? What if I'm just broken?
What if this is who I am now—dangerous, unstable, exactly what Vesper was always telling me hybrids like me became?
"Hey." July tightens my hand. "We’ll figure it out. I promise. But first—" She takes out her phone. “You need to eat something that isn't granola bars and pizza. I’m getting us real food.”
I don't have the energy to argue. So I sit at a café with my best friend and feign interest as she drones on about some Romantic poetry drama or other while my head keeps looping Lydia’s hand on Aiden’s chest.
And the power beneath my skin pulses in time with my heartbeat.
Waiting, always waiting.
For the next time I lose control.