Chapter 119 Brothers in Shadows
Rowan's POV
I find Cian two hours later in the last place I’d think to look, the old music practice rooms in the basement of the arts building.
I bet most students don’t even know these rooms still exist. They were deserted years ago when the new performing arts center opened, forgotten to freeze for time and temperature of students who once hid here in the intermissions.
Great for anyone who needs to go underground.
I hear him before I see him—or more accurately, I hear the absence of noise. The specific brand of stillness that indicates someone is sitting very still, attempting not to make too much noise.
Practice room seven’s door is open a crack. I push it open further.
Cian is sitting on the floor in the corner with his knees up, his back pressed against the wall. He is looking at his palms as if they contain the answers to questions he has yet to learn how to ask.
He doesn't look up when I enter. I feel like I’m invisible.
I close the door behind me, then lean against it. “I've been looking for you.”
“Congrats, you just dug me up from the ground.” His voice is flat.
“You’ve been hiding a lot lately.”
“Not hiding. Just—” He stops. Shrugs. “Existing elsewhere.”
“Far from me and Aiden.“
“Far from all of us.” Finally he looks up. His pale tired eyes are shadowed by something deeper than sleep deprivation. “It’s easier.”
"Easier than what?"
“Than watching everything implode and knowing it's my fault.”
There it is. The guilt he's been carrying, growing heavier with each day of silence.
"It s not your fault," I say quietly.
“Isn t it?" He laughs but there is no humor in it. "I kissed her, Rowan. She was vulnerable and hurt and I—" He presses his palms to his eyes. "I kissed her. Knowing what it would do. Knowing how Aiden would react. Knowing it would ruin everything," he said
“You made a mistake. We all have."
"Not like this." His hands drop. "Not one that broke the bond. None of them broke the bond. Not one that—" His voice cracks slightly. "She told me to leave her alone. Following all that. After I defended her to Aiden. After I tried to—" He stops. “She looked at me as though I were just another person who hurt her. And she was right."
I let the words settle in. Don't rush to contradict or comfort. Just listen.
“I’m replaying it constantly,” Cian continues, looking down at his palms again. “That moment on the basketball courts. She was breaking. Totally breaking. And so instead of just—being there, being a friend—I kissed her. Made it about—" He shakes his head. "I don't even know what it was. Comfort? Attraction? Some fucked up need to prove I could help when Aiden couldn't?"
"It’s probably all of the above." I keep my voice gentle. “You’re not a villain, Cian. You're a guy who made a bad choice in a complicated moment.”
“A mistake in judgment and that got photographed and a weapon was created with that picture … for her?” His jaw tightens. "Lydia and her crew—they are seizing that moment to tear her apart. And I gave them the ammunition."
“They would have found something else, had their dna or blood samples been in your basement.” I shift slightly, trying to get comfortable on the hard floor. "Lydia's been gunning for Malia from day one. If it wasn't the kiss, it would have been some other thing. The fight with Victoria. The clip of her losing it. Anything they could twist."
“But it was the kiss.” Cian's voice is hoarse. “I am the one who betrayed my brother. It was all the proof of everything they are saying about her — that she’s crazy and untrustworthy and she would do anything."
“She’s none of those things, and you know that.”
“Do I?” Now he stares at me. “Because I am sitting here just trying to determine what I know what I want to believe. And Rowan—” He pauses, struggling with it. “What if they’re right? Not that she’s any of those things on purpose. But about her being dangerous?"
I tighten up. “What are you talking about?”
“The power surges. The way she threw Victoria into that wall. The changes taking place in her none of us comphrehend.” He leans forward. “I was there in the bathroom that day. Took her after that nightmare. Her eyes—they were gold, Rowan. Full gold. Not flickers. Not partial shifts. Completely transformed.”
“Hybrids don’t have—”
“I know what hybrids don’t have.” His voice has an edge to it. “Which means something else is happening. Something that we none of us are prepared to deal with. And instead of helping her figure it out, we’re—” He waves vaguely. “Scattered. Broken.”
The words hang between us heavily.
'I heard Vesper,' I say finally. “Talking to those men in suits. They were discussing Malia. Containment protocols. Bloodline inquiries. She’s like some kind of — an experiment or a risk they’re tracking.”
Cian’s expression darkens. “When?”
“Last week. Before everything blew up." I pull out my phone and show him the notes I've taken over the past few days. "I'm keeping track of everything I can" The grading discrepancies. How Vesper flags her in every report. The timeline for when her powers began to manifest and when the harassment began to escalate."
He takes the phone and scrolls silently. When he looks up, he is more alert. More concentrated.
“You think they’re connected? The attacks and the power manifestations?”
“It seems like someone is aware of what is happening to her. Instead of helping they’re—” I hesitate to say the right word. “Cultivating it. Pushing her to breaking point to see what we can see.”
“That’s—” Cian stops Processes. “That’s fucked up on a level I don’t want to contemplate.”
“Yeah.”
We are silent for a moment
Cian muttered finally, "She won't let any of us help. Every time I think about trying to go anywhere near her, she tells me to leave her alone or just stays clear of me. And I don't blame her. After what I did—”
“You made one mistake.” I lean in. “One. “That doesn’t make you irredeemable Cian. That makes you wolf. Or whatever we are.”
“It makes me someone who hurt her when she needed someone to turn to.”
“So fix it.” I keep my voice firm."Stop hiding in practice rooms feeling sorry for yourself. Stop letting guilt paralyze you. Get information on how to actually help her."
"She don't want me making it worse—"
"Right now, all she knows is what she wants: to live." I rise, stretching out my hand towards him. "Which is why we shouldn’t wait around for her to ask us to help. Whether or not she shoves us away. Rather he be inconvenienced than we be."
Cian looks at my hand for a long second. Then takes it, letting me pull him up.
"How?" he asks. "Is there a way to help someone you can't get your hands on?"
"From a distance." I dust off my jeans. “You’re fantastic with the research. Start researching hybrid bloodlines. Anything that would shed light on what’s happening to her. If Vesper and those suits have any information, so do we. If they know something, so do we.”
“And you?”
“I’m keeping an eye on Vesper. To make sure she’s graded fairly. Document everything in case we have to file evidence later.” I hesitate. "And I’m going to be Malia’s. Study sessions. Anything she’ll take: whatever she’ll accept. Somebody has to be there when she realizes she can stop pretending to be fine alone.”
"What about Aiden?” The question is tentative.
“Aiden’s—” I stop. Sigh. "He's making his own choices right now. Bad ones. But I can't make him realize what he's doing. You can’t make him stop turning Lydia into a weapon. All I can do is—" I fumblingly seek the words. “Be ready for him to come to his senses. If he comes to his senses.”
Cian nods slowly. "And if he doesn't?"
“Then we help Malia without him.” Simple. Final. “The bond is already a shattered one. Maybe it can’t be repaired. But that doesn’t mean you turn your back on her.”
“No,” Cian agrees quietly. “It doesn’t work.”
And we’re in that stale-mate dusty rehearsal room, trying to figure out how to keep from hurting someone who thinks she doesn’t need to be protected, by two brothers.
"I miss her," Cian admits suddenly. Voice raw. "I miss all of it. The island. Before all the mess. When it was just—us."
“Me too.” The admission is easier to fit out of mouth than I had anticipated. “But we can’t go back. Can only move forward. Try to build something new from the waste.”
“You think that really will happen? After all this?”
“I have to.” I meet his eyes. “Because the alternative is to pretend that one mistake—one kiss, one video, one public disaster—ends everything, forever. And I’m not ready to let that be the truth yet.”
Cian’s expression shifts. Some of the guilt loosening up. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay, I’ll help. Whatever I can. Research, paperwork, anything you need.” He straightens slightly, shoulders pulling back. “You’re right. Hiding and wasting away in guilt isn’t helping anybody. Least of all her.”
Relief floods through me. “Good. Because I can’t do this alone. And she needs—we all need —to stop being so goddamn isolated.”
“What's the first step?”
“Tonight? You start looking. Hybrid genetics, power manifestations, historical instances of late-stage power development... Anything that could give us hints.” I walk toward the door. “I’ll talk to July and Freddy. Get them coordinated. Be sure Malia's got people watching her back -- even if she’s not aware of it.”
“And tomorrow?”
“I will be having a very pointed conversation with Madame Vesper concerning the standards by which she grades, tomorrow.” I smile slightly. It’s not an affectionate look. “It should be educational.”
Cian almost smiles back. Almost. “Watch your back, right? What if she’s playing a larger game—”
“Then we have to find out what that is.” I open the door. “Which is why you’re looking that way and I’m vising the other. Cover more ground that way."
“Rowan.” He stops me from walking away. “Thank you. For—” He motions vaguely. “Not giving up.”
“We’re bonded,” I say barely. “That’s what bond does.”
“Even when the bond is broken?”
“Especially then.” I fix his eyes. “Shattered things can be repaired, Cian. Not always back to their original shape. But into something new. Something that works.”
“You really believe that?”
“I have to. ” Because the alternative is unthinkable. “Someone has to hold onto hope while everyone else is drowning in guilt and anger and pain.”
At this point Cian does smile. Small. Genuine. The first genuine smile I've ever seen him have in days. "The silent observer is the savior. Who could have imagined?"
"Not saving anything yet." I go out into the hallway. “Just—refusing to let it all go without putting up a fight.”
“We’re all doing what little we can.”
“Then start doing more.” I look back at him. “Start tonight. Research. Knowledge is power. And power's what we need now."
He nods. Determined now. Focused.
I leave him there and make my way back to our suite, my mind already running through next steps, possible obstacles.
It’s not over. Not even close.
But—for the first time since the video dropped, since everything exploded, since our bond shattered into agonizing pieces—
For the first time, I think we might have a shot.
I’m not going to try to fix everything. Not to go back to how things were.
But to move forward. To adapt. To survive.
And to make sure our memories lives, too and, just as importantly, to make sure Malia lives too.
But even if she's not aware we're fighting for her.
Even if she pushes us away. Even if the odds are against us.
We fight anyway.