Chapter 107 Shattering
Malia's POV
As the late afternoon sun beams through the lines of campus buildings, I burst through the front doors panting for air, for room, for anywhere but the med bay, where Victoria's voice haunting me.
Psychotic, dangerous, doesn't belong here.
I keep my head down and my hood up, trying to blend in as I make my way along the main path to the quad. Just need to get back to July dorm. Just need to—
"Well, well. If it isn't the campus psycho."
Lydia is an arm length away from me, arms folded, that perfect smile spread across her face like a weapon. She’s not alone — three other girls flank her, creating a human barricade I’d have to physically force my way through to get past.
I’ve seen two of them before – they’re part of Lydia’s usual crew. The third is new, but her look of barely masked disdain is all too familiar.
“Excuse me,” I mumble, as I attempt to pass around them.
Lydia shifts, blocking me. "Oh, don't be rude. We just want to talk."
"I don't have time for this." I try the other way.
Another girl–long blonde hair, tall, smirking–slides in to block me. "Make time The whole school’s talking about you."
My stomach drops. "I don’t care what—"
"You should care." Lydia's voice is sweet as poison. "Everyone knows what you did to Victoria. How you went absolutely feral in Combat Training. How you threw her into a wall like some sort of—" she stops, thinking. "—rabid animal."
Heat floods my face. “It was an accident.”
“Was it?” The blonde girl laughs. “Because it sounds like you just can’t help yourself. Dangerous. Unstable. Wild.”
The power thrums under my skin. I shove my hands into my pockets, attempting to muffle it.
"The scholarship committee must be so proud," another girl said—brunette, sharp features, cruel eyes. "Allowing hybrids who attack other students."
"I didn't—" I begin.
"You didn't mean to?" Lydia cocks her head, false sympathy oozing out of every word. “That’s even worse. At least if you meant to we could call it calculated. But you can’t control herself? That’s just pathetic.”
I clench my jaw. "Move."
"Or what?" The blonde moves closer. “Are we going to be tossed against walls, too? Have to really give everyone something to talk about when it comes to you?”
"She won't." Lydia smiles. “Because deep down, she knows we’re right. Knows she doesn’t belong here. Knows that dating Aiden doesn't make her any less of what she is— a mongrel pretending to be worthy.”
The word is a slap to the face. My vision flashes gold at the edges.
“Don’t call me that,” I say, my voice low and threatening.
“Why not? It’s what you are.” Lydia looks at her friends, performing for them. “Mixed blood. Diluted genetics. Neither one thing nor another. Only --” she wrinkles her nose. “—wrong.”
The power surges. My hands clench in my pockets.
"And Aiden." Lydia softened her voice to something close to pitying. "Poor Aiden, trapped with you by some twisted sense of loyalty. But how long do you think that’s going to last? Especially now that everyone can see who you really are?"
"Shut up," I murmur.
"He can have anyone. He should have someone from his world. Someone who gets him. Someone—" she places a hand on her chest. "—stable."
"I told you to shut up."
"...Someone like me."
Something inside me just snaps.
"You think you’re better than me?" The words come out cold, harsher than I intend. "Do you think your bloodline and your daddy’s money make you entitled to him?"
Lydia’s smile falters for a moment. “I think I’m not some violent lunatic who attacks people.”
“No, you’re just that — you’re just a manipulative bitch who spreads lies and plays games.” I take a step forward and she actually takes half a step back before stopping herself. "At least I'm being clear about what I am."
"Honest?" She laughs but there’s a bite in it now. "You’re delusional. Everyone can tell. Even Aiden’s starting to—"
"Starting to what?" My voice raises. "Say it. Say the whole thing. "
”Starting to see what we all see“Lydia’s eyes flash.” That you’re not worth the trouble. “That you’re not worth the trouble. “That you’re weighing him down. That he’d be better off with—”
I shove her.
Not hard. Not with power. Just a normal push, hands on her shoulders, pushing her back.
But Lydia’s been waiting for this. Wanting this.
She stumbles back arms windmilling in true theatrical fashion and bumps into the blonde girl behind her. Both go down in a tangle of limbs —and artificial fury.
"She attacked me!" Lydia shrieks."Everyone! She attacked me!"
Students are converging now. I look out of the corner of my eye seeing phones being pulled out. I look out of the corner of my eye seeing phones being pulled out, forming a circle, awaiting drama.
"I barely touched you," I say, but my words are drowned out by the shouting.
Lydia scrambles to her feet, cheeks flushed hair ratted in a way that looks calculated. “You’re insane! Just like with Victoria – you can’t control yourself!”
"You're lying—"
"I'm lying?" She laughs, wild and theatrical.
"Everybody just witnessed you push me! Just as they all witnessed you nearly kill Victoria!"
The other girls are backing her up now, yelling over the top of each other, spinning a story that is less and less anchored in reality.
"She just attacked Lydia out of nowhere—"
"Completely unprovoked—"
“Someone should get security.”
The crowd grows. Whispers spread like wildfire. Phones are pointed at me from every angle.
I'm trapped. I'm cornered. And Lydia knows it.
“This is what you do, isn’t it? " Lydia's voice rings out, addressing us as our audience. “Lash out when you can’t face the truth, you go after the people who endanger your delicate hold on a life you don’t deserve.”
I can’t stop shaking. It is growing, obeying furious and disgraced with anger and the awful know that I will say and no one will believe me no matter what they say. No one will hear me.
“Just confess,” Lydia goes on, pressing closer now that the crowd is on her side. “You’re unstable. Dangerous. And Aiden deserves better than—”
I throw myself toward her — not to hit her, just to make her stop talking, to make her just stop talking —
But I don’t reach her.
Strong arms encircle me from behind, dragging me back, holding me against them.
"Malia, stop!" Aiden's voice in my ear. "Stop!"
I freeze.
Aiden's here. Holding me back. Like I’m the threat. Like I’m the problem. Lydia's eyes shine with victory. She lunges toward Aiden — another calculated move, flinging herself at him with tears already forming.
"Aiden, thank God," she gasps, clutching his arm. "She just — she came at me — I was just standing here and she —"
“I know, I saw.” His arms remain around me, keeping me from moving, and I can feel his heart beating rapidly against my back. “Are you okay?”
“I, think so.” Lydia’s voice trembles. So perfectly, devastatingly vulnerable. “I’m just—I'm scared of her.”
There’s something in my chest that snaps.
Aiden actually hugs her. One arm still holding me steady, the other pulling Lydia into a brief embrace. “It's all right. You're safe."
I can’t breathe. Can’t process what I’m seeing. He's comforting her. Believing her. Supporter her.
"Aiden—" I make an effort to spin around in his arms, but he holds me firm.
"Malia, you need to calm down." His voice is tight, controlled—the voice he uses when his alpha is bubbling to the surface. “You need to get a hold of yourself.”
"I didn't—she was lying, she—"
"I saw you shove her." His arms tighten. "Again."
The word stings like a slap. Again. Like Victoria. Like I’m just some violent thing that can’t be trusted.
“You’re really taking her side—”
"I'm not taking sides. I'm trying to stop you from making a huge mistake."
"Too late for that,'' I say, sneering with rage and sorrow mixed up in something poisonous."I already regret a lot.”
His eyes flash blue—alpha eyes, responding to the challenge in my tone. For a moment I think he might really make use of his power on me, tell me to submit, to be quiet, to be good.
But he catches himself. Takes a breath. Forces the alpha back down. “Let’s just—everyone settle down,” he says, to the crowd now. "Nothing to see here. Show's over."
But the show isn't over. Phones are still recording. Students are still staring. And Lydia is still pressed against his side, playing the victim so perfectly it makes me sick.
"Get away from me," I say quietly.
"Malia—"
“I said get off!” I pull free from his hold with more force than necessary.
He staggers back a half step, just like I pushed Victoria, just like I’m proving everyone’s point about being dangerous.
For a moment his eyes flash blue again. Brighter this time. His alpha responding to being physically challenged, to having his authority challenged.
I catch him the instant he regains control of it? I watch the effort it takes.
He goes for Lydia's hand--whether unconsciously or deliberately, I can't tell. "Let's get you to the med bay. Make sure you're all right."
And with that, he turns his back to me.
Down the aisle with her. Lydia looks back once; the smile is not visible to Aiden but as clear as day to me.
She won.
I freeze in the middle of the quad, surrounded by gape-mouthed students and recording phones and whispered judgements, and watch the person I love pick someone else.
My legs give out.
I don't choose to sit. Don’t ease myself down. Just—collapse. I hit my knees on the pavement, my hands catching me at the last second.
Hot and fast and humiliating, the tears come.
The whispers grow louder around me. The phones keep snapping photos. I'm just giving them what they want—the unsteady hybrid collapsing in public, reinforcing every stereotype, justifying every prejudice.
I don't care anymore. Can't care. Can only cry into my hands as the world looks and judges and finds me wanting.
When I look up at the campus through my blurry eyes, it’s the academic building. Third floor. Corner office. Madame Vesper was standing at her window, looking down at the street below. To me, specifically. Our gazes meet at a distance.
She doesn't smile, no expression.
Wait and see for a long moment.
Then he reaches up and draws the curtain.
Intentional Definitive Like shutting a coffin lid.
"Malia."
A voice intersects the fog. Quiet, steady. Close.
I make myself raise my eyes.
Cian is standing before me, his pale gaze serious and sad and utterly without judgement. He extends his hand.
"Come on, Malia. Let's go."
I look at his hand. At the lifeline that is being offered. At the option to stay here, torn apart on the ground, or take the hand of someone and get up.
The crowd watches. Waiting to see what the unstable hybrid will do next.
I reach for his hand—