Chapter 117 The Observer
Rowan´s POV
So I guess it's my turn.
Malia knew she couldn’t see straight anymore—too close to the wreckage, too entrenched in survival mode to comprehend what was really happening around her. And someone needs to tell this part of the story. Someone has to say what she can’t see.
That's me.
The silent one. The brother who sees everything while the rest of us are too busy feeling our own pain to look up and see the forest for the trees.
I'm taking the narrative now. Not because I want to, but because she needs someone who can see beyond the immediate chaos to what’s rippling under the surface.
And believe me, there’s a lot rippling on the surface.
I notice everything.
It´s not something that I try to do, it just happens. Always has been. Be that as it may, as Aiden dominates the room with his presence and Cian quietly observes from a distance I notice all the little things. The details. The little expressions that tell you the real story behind the words that people say.
If I’ve learned anything at all from sitting on this bench with Malia right now it’s to go through every single emotion that crosses her face.
How her jaw clenches when she’s trying not to burst into tears. The slight quiver in her hands as she holds her phone. That vacant expression in her eyes that says she’s running on empty and pure willpower. The way she keeps rubbing that moonstone pendant even after Aiden gave it to her—like she’s not sure if it’s a comfort or a torture device.
She's under water. You’d have to be blind to not see it.
But I also see the fight she still has left in her. How she sits up straighter when she thinks someone’s looking. The resolve with which she opens her textbooks, even though she is obviously way too tired to do any studying. The stubborn refusal to completely give up even when giving up would be easier.
And that’s what makes Malia so much different than most people who snap under this kind of pressure. She keeps getting back up.
Even when she shouldn’t. Even when it would be gentler for her to just—stop…
“I should get to class,” she says, after we’ve gone through Vesper’s notes for the third time. Her voice is firm but I can tell she is tired beneath it. “Thank you for—all of this.”
“I can walk with you.” I begin gathering the papers. “Your next class is in Morrison, right? I’m going that way anyway.”
“No.” Too fast. Too defensive. She softens it with a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I mean—I'm fine.Really. You don't have to—”
“I know I don’t have to.” I keep my voice soft. Non-threatening. “But I want to.”
“Rowan.” She brushes my arm lightly. “I appreciate it. So much. But I—” She stops, groping for words. “There are some things I need to do alone. Need to prove I can, too.”
I know what she’s not saying. The principal told her to keep her distance from us. To her probation — to avoid anybody whose probation she might complicate. And she’s terrified that being spotted with me will just make things worse.
She is probably right. That doesn’t mean I like it.
“All right,” I say, even as every fiber of my being wants to argue. “But you have my number. If you need anything—"
“I know.” She grips my arm once, then releases me. “Thank you. For taking me when everybody else is just—looking right through me.”
The words are more cutting than she probably intended them to be.
“Always,” I say to her. Because it's true. Because even when this all falls apart and it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I’ll be here.
She nods, grabs her things with hands that tremble just a little, then leaves. I watch her go. Notice the way she keeps her head down. The way she angles her route to avoid groups of kids. The way she’s dwindling herself down small, unseen, just trying to make it through the day.
And I see something else.
I know all that went down. Not just what’s public — the video, the breakup, the probation. But the pieces underneath. The things people aren't saying.
I know Principal McLunar threatened her scholarship. One more mistake, and she’s done, he told her that.
I know Vesper has been sabotaging her grades since day one. Building a case. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
I can tell Lydia is pulling the strings throughout this entire thing like a campaign. Using Aiden as a weapon, using Malia's pain for sport.
I know my brothers are the problem right now. Aiden with his public displays of getting over it. Cian with his guilt-ridden distance. And me with my meticulously neutral approach that maybe looks like abandonment to her from where she’s sitting.
And I know – with an unshakable that resides deep within me that sits heavy in my gut – that things will get worse.
Whatever Vesper and those men in suits are plotting, whatever they are watching Malia for, whatever "containment" means – it’s coming. Soon.
The thought makes my jaw tighten.
I head back to the suite. Need to think. Need to plan. Need to work out how to keep her safe when she won't let any of us get close enough to help.
The suite is quiet when I arrive. Cian’s door is closed — it's been closed a lot recently. He’s also distancing himself from both me and Aiden, retreating to deal with his guilt and confusion all by himself.
Aiden is sprawled shirtless on the couch, one arm covering his eyes, as though he hasn’t slept in days.
He probably hasn't. The silence between us is thick. Uncomfortable. We haven’t really talked since the video dropped. Since everything exploded. Since the tie that binded us broke in ways I don’t know how to fix.
"Aiden." I set my bag down near the door. "We need to talk."
"Not now, Rowan." His voice is flat. Absolutely beat down.
"Yes, now." I step up and stand before him between the couch and me, making it that much more difficult for him to avoid me or rise. "This has gone far enough."
He doesn't move the arm from in front of his eyes. "I don't want to hear one more lecture about Malia."
"Too bad." I keep my tone calm but firm. "Because someone has to tell you that you're making a mistake."
"I'm making a mistake?" He laughs bitterly. "She’s messing herself up with Cian. She betrayed—"
"She made a bad choice when she was hurting and desperate." I cut him off. "You called her a mistake in front of half the school, you walked away with Lydia, and you’ve been publicly parading a new relationship to hurt her. Who s making worse choices here?"
He sits up abruptly, arm dropping, eyes flashing that electric blue that means his alpha is close to the surface. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know exactly what I'm talking about." I don't back down. I didn't let his alpha presense scare me. "You're hurt. I get it. What she did was wrong. But this—" I wave vaguely at him, at the suite, at the situation, "—this isn’t you moving on. This is revenge. And it’s cruel."
"She destroyed us—"
“We destroyed ourselves.” My voice rises a little. “All of us. You with your pride. Cian with his guilt. I with my Silence. And with her desperation. We’re all to blame. But you’re the only one who uses someone else as a weapon.”
“Lydia’s not a weapon—”
“Bullshit.” The word comes out raw. “You don’t love her. You’re just using her to make a statement, to make Malia suffer. And she knows it, by the way. Lydia knows you’re using her. She’s counting on it.”
That gets his attention. “What?”
“Freddy sent me some screenshots. Group chat with Lydia and her mates. She’s pulling strings for this entire thing. With you to take down Malia. And you’re letting her because you’re too hurt and proud to realize what’s happening.”
Aiden jaw works. For a second I actually think he might believe me. Maybe he’ll see through the wrathful defences and get the truth.
Then he stands, grabs his shirt from the floor. “I don’t need this right now.”
“Aiden—”
“I’m going out.” He pulls the shirt on over his head, and makes for the door. “Don’t wait up.”
“At least speak to her—” I begin, but he’s already on the move. “Instead of hurting her more. Lydia isn’t going to use you to —”
The door slams.
In the empty living room, I stand there, chest tightening with frustration.
This is what we've become. Brothers that can’t talk to each other. Who lets pride and pain build walls we can’t get over.
And Malia has to deal with it.
I walk into my room, close the door and then sit on the edge of my bed. Stare at my hands.
Feel the bond, the connection that’s supposed to hold us all together stretched taut and fraying.
It’s going to get worse now that we’ve all gone our separate ways from Malia. From each other.
I'm able to tell by instinct. In the way power shifts on campus. In the way Vesper watches Malia. In the manner those men in dark suits discuss containment as if she were a problem to be solved rather than a human being to be shielded.
Something's coming.
And we’re not ready.
Because we’re shattered. Split. At each other’s throats when we should be holding hands.
So yeah. This is my turn to tell the tale.
Because Malia is too close to see it clearly, because Aiden’s too hurt to think straight and because Cian is too guilty to act.
Someone needs to see the big picture. Someone needs to chronicle what’s actually happening while the rest of us are bleeding out.
That's me. The observer. The one who notices everything. And right now? We all seem to be going towards a cliff edge.
The question is, can I reel us back in before we go over the edge?
Or I’m just going to have the best view of the fall.