Chapter 126 After
Rowan's POV
I awake to the sound of monitors beeping.
I don't know where I am for a baffling moment. I slept in a chair at a very uncomfortable angle and now my neck is sore. I can feel my back complaining as I move to stand up.
Then it comes back to me. The hospital. The medical wing on campus. The last two days had been spent at Malia’s bedside in an anxious wait for her to regain consciousness.
Something about movement catches my eye.
Malia's eyes are open. Blinking slowly against the bright fluorescent lights. Disoriented. Bewildered.
But awake.
So much relief hits me I nearly fall out of the chair.
“Malia—” My voice is hoarse from not being used. “You’re awake. I am so glad, you’re awake.”
I’m moving before I’ve consciously made the decision to do so, essentially leaping from the chair to the side of her bed. My hands float over her shoulders, aching to make contact, to see if she’s actually there, real and awake and here, but unsure if I should.
“What—” She swallows, her voice rough. “What happened?”
There's a knock on the door and before I can respond, it opens. Dr. George appears with two nurses, the epitome of efficiency and professional worry.
“Miss Reed.” Dr. George advances, already examining monitors. “It’s good to see you conscious. How are you feeling?”
“Confused,” Malia says.
I step back and give them room. Watch as they run through your usual post-consciousness checks. Lights in eyes. Reflex tests. Questions about the pain and memory.
Dr. George describes the injuries in her calm and matter-of-fact manner. Head trauma. Leg fracture. Twelve stitches. Unconscious for two days.
Malia listens, absorbing it all with that deliberative paralysis she gets when too much information is coming in.
The doctors make notes on the clipboards. Talks about your vitals and what to expect during recovery. Tells her that she’s healing well, considering what a bad accident it was.
I stay quiet. Let them do their job.
Instead I’m staring at Malia’s face. Watching confusion grow. She can’t ask these questions in front of medical staff, and they’re gathering like a storm in her eyes.
At long last the examination is over. Dr. George offers final advice on rest and observation, and then she and the nurses file out.
The door clicks shut.
Silence.
Malia turns to look at me, and the confusion has crystallised into something more pressing. More frightened.
"What happened?" she repeats. Quieter now. More desperate. "When I fell. What—"
"Don't you remember?"
"It's—fuzzy. Pieces. I remember falling. Striking my head. Then—" She stops. Her hands grip the hospital blanket. "Did I—shift?"
The word barely comes out of her mouth.
I move closer. Pulled the chair right up to the bed so I could keep my voice down.
"Yes," I say quietly. “Or—he was getting you. The preserve’s territorial magic; it was influencing you. Enhancing your powers. Romans a transformation your hybrid genes should not be capable of.
His face goes whiter than the sheets of the hospital.
"Did I hurt anyone?"
The question I feared most to hear.
I hesitate. Two tenths of a second. But that’s enough. She sees it.
"Who?" Her voice rises in spite of the pain and I know it hurts. "Rowan who did I hurt?"
No way to sugarcoat it. No way to glamorise it.
"Aiden." I watch her face closely. "He found you first. Tried to help. You were—not in control. Scared. In pain. You pushed him away and he hit a tree pretty hard. Then when he came back, you—" I stop. Choose my words carefully. "You slashed him. Across the chest. Deep enough that he needed immediate medical attention."
Her expression turns to horror. "Is he—"
"He's okay." I say it quickly, firmly, before she can spiral. "The wounds were serious but he's healing fast. Alpha genetics working in his favor. He was brought to St. Michael’s for treatment — superior trauma center to the campus medical. He’s stable. Being watched because it’s so deep, but he’s going to be okay.”
She leans back against the pillows. The little color she had draining away.
"I never remember. Any of it. Just—fragments. Pain. Fear. Then nothing."
"You passed out after I stopped the transformation." I keep my voice gentle. "Your body shut down from the overload. The forced shift, the injuries, everything at once. We got you back to campus immediately. You’ve been unconscious for two days.”
She's quiet. Processing. I can tell she's making an effort to piece things together, to recall something her brain has mercifully obscured.
"Malia—" I start.
The door bursts open.
July and Freddy pounce, their faces aglow when they find Malia conscious.
"Oh my god!" July almost throws herself at the bed, coming to rest against it just long enough to pick Malia up with her eyes. “You’re awake! We’ve been so worried—”
"Easy," Freddy cautions, though he's also beaming. Relief written all over his face. "She just woke up."
"I don't care, I thought—" July's voice breaks. "You've been unconscious for two days. We thought—"
"I'm okay," Malia says softly. "I'm—here."
Cian enters last, quieter than the others, more controlled. But the look of relief on his face when he sees Malia sitting up is palpable.
"Hey," he says simply.
"Hey." Malia says.
July launches into updates. Classes cancelled. Field trip cut short. The campus is in an uproar over what happened. Freddy adds details, both of them babbling over each other: their common need to fill in the silence with something, anything, that feels normal.
I watch Malia try to follow, try to focus. But exhaustion is already pulling at her. Two days unconscious and she still looks like she’s about to collapse.
Cian moves closer to me. Close enough that his next words are meant only for me spoken softly among July and Freddy's incessant banter.
"We need to talk," he says quietly. "About what I found."
My belly tightens. “Now?”
“Yeah. It’s — important. About Malia.”
There is something in his voice that makes me look up at him sharply. His face is tense. Worried on a whole other level than what Malia’s injuries brought on.
“Hallway,” I say quietly.
We are moving toward the door. July and Freddy don’t even realize it, are still with Malia, telling her everything she missed.
I go out into the hall first. Cian follows, closing the door behind us.
It is quiet in the hospital corridor. Just the faint noise of monitors and the murmur of strangers in their rooms.
Cian slides his hands in his trouser pockets. A nervous gesture. His jaw is clenched.
“What did you find?” I inquire.
He inhales. Looks back toward Malia’s room like making sure were far enough away.
“I’ve been looking into it,” he begins. “Like you asked. Hybrid Genetics. Power Manifestations. Late stage of ability development. I’m looking for anything that might explain what’s happening to her.”
“And?”
“And I saw — patterns. Historical cases. Records for centuries.” He draws one hand from his pocket, twisting his hair. "Rowan, the things Malia’s showing — the power, the wolf eyes, the forced transformation — they’re not random. They’re not just hybrid instability or the preserve’s magic intensifying what was already there.”
“What are you saying?”
He looks directly into my eyes. "I'm telling you those powers correspond to a very particular bloodline. One that's meant to be extinct. One that—" He stops. Has the words but they won’t come out. "One that explains why Vesper flagged her when she never came to campus. Why those men in suits are talking about containment. Or why there are gaps in the family history in her file."
My heart races. "What bloodline?"
Cian peeks again at the door. Make sure no one is near enough to hear.
Then he says it. Quiet. Certain. Terrifying.
"There's more to Malia than we know."