Chapter 137 Shadows and Secrets
Author's POV
The next day brought something that felt almost foreign to Malia—normalcy.
She woke in Aiden's bed, wrapped in his arms, sunlight streaming through the window. Attended her morning classes without incident. Professor Nakamura welcomed her back to Werewolf Mythology with a kind nod. Students who'd been whispering about her violent breakdown now seemed—if not friendly, at least neutral. The video had been taken down from most platforms. Lydia's confession was spreading faster than her original accusations.
Things were settling. Returning to something resembling normal campus life.
It should have felt like relief. Instead, it felt like waiting. Like the eye of a storm that hadn't finished yet.
Malia left her afternoon literature class, backpack slung over one shoulder, thinking about the essay due next week. Ordinary concerns. Normal student worries. It felt surreal after everything.
She was halfway across the quad when she heard the voices.
Low. Controlled. Coming from the direction of the old administrative wing—the part of campus students rarely went because most of those offices had been relocated to newer buildings years ago.
One of the voices was Madame Vesper's. Clipped. Professional. Unmistakable.
Malia's steps slowed. She should keep walking. Should mind her own business. Should not get involved in whatever faculty meeting was happening.
But something made her stop. Made her angle closer to the building's edge. Made her strain to hear.
"—situation is evolving faster than anticipated." Vesper's voice, tighter than usual. Stressed.
"The preserve incident confirmed our suspicions." A male voice. Deep. Authoritative. One of the men in suits from before. "The manifestation of alpha-level abilities in a supposed hybrid. The gold eyes. The forced transformation. All consistent with dormant Mooncrest genetics awakening."
Malia's blood went cold.
They knew. Or suspected. Either way—dangerous.
"The expulsion would have solved this cleanly." Another male voice, slightly younger. "Removed her from the institution before full awakening. Now she remains, the abilities are active, and containment becomes significantly more complicated."
"McLunar reversed the expulsion against committee recommendation." Vesper sounded bitter. "The Moonfall boy threatened legal action. Family influence overrode protocol."
"The Moonfall brothers are bonded to her." The first man again. "All three. That complicates extraction."
Extraction. The word sent ice down Malia's spine.
She pressed closer to the building's wall, staying in the shadows of an overhang. From here she could just see them—Vesper and two men in expensive dark suits. The same ones from before. Standing in a cluster near the entrance to the old wing.
"Extraction may not be necessary if we can secure cooperation." The younger man pulled out what looked like a tablet. "The Council has authorized offering her a choice. Come willingly for evaluation and training, or—"
"Or we invoke the Containment Protocols." The first man's voice was granite. "For the safety of the supernatural community."
"She's a nineteen-year-old college student," Vesper said, though she didn't sound sympathetic. Just—factual. "Invoking Containment on someone that young, that inexperienced, will create complications. Public opinion. Family intervention. The Moonfall family alone—"
"The Moonfall family doesn't dictate Council policy." The first man cut her off. "If Malia Reeves poses a threat—and a Mooncrest heir with unstable abilities absolutely poses a threat—then containment is not only justified but necessary."
They were talking about her like she was a problem to solve. A threat to manage. Not a person.
"What do you need from me?" Vesper asked.
"Continued monitoring. Documentation of any further ability manifestations. And—" the younger man consulted his tablet, "—encourage situations that might trigger responses. We need to establish the full scope of her capabilities before making recommendations to the Council."
"You want me to deliberately stress her?" Vesper's voice carried the faintest edge. "After the preserve incident nearly resulted in student death?"
"Controlled stress. Academic pressure. Social situations. Nothing that would cause another public incident." The first man's tone suggested he didn't much care about the ethics. "We need data. You're positioned to provide it."
Malia's hands clenched into fists. They'd been doing this all along. Vesper's campaign of academic sabotage, the way she'd been pushed to breaking point—it hadn't been personal vendetta. It had been deliberate testing.
"The hearing for Miss Moonfall concludes today," Vesper said. "She'll likely be expelled or suspended. That removes one complication."
"Good. One less variable." The younger man made a note. "And the brothers? Their bond to her?"
"Strong. Possibly mate bonds, though they're young for that level of commitment." Vesper's voice carried professional detachment. "They've been—protective. Aggressively so. Aiden Moonfall threatened institutional funding to reverse her expulsion."
"Noted. We'll need to plan around family influence." The first man checked his watch. "We have a meeting with the Council representatives in twenty minutes. The old archives?"
"This way." Vesper gestured. "The entrance is through the restricted section."
They started walking. Not toward the main campus but deeper into the old wing. Toward areas marked with "Staff Only" and "Authorized Personnel" signs.
Malia watched them disappear around a corner. Her heart pounding. Mind racing.
They were planning something. Evaluation. Training. Extraction. Containment. Words that sounded clinical but meant—what? Taking her somewhere? Locking her up? Forcing her into something against her will?
And they were using Vesper to gather information. To push her abilities. To document everything.
She should leave. Should go straight to Aiden or Rowan or Cian. Should tell them what she heard.
But something pulled her forward instead. Curiosity. Fear. The need to understand exactly what she was facing.
She followed the path they'd taken. Staying quiet. Keeping to shadows. Past the "Staff Only" signs that suddenly felt less like institutional boundaries and more like warnings.
The hallway grew dimmer. Older. This part of campus hadn't been updated in decades—original stonework, narrow passages, the smell of old paper and older magic.
She turned a corner and found herself at a dead end. Just a single door, heavy oak, with a brass plaque that read: RESTRICTED - AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY.
The voices were quieter now. On the other side of that door. Discussing her fate like she was a specimen to catalog.
Malia stared at the door. At the warning. At the boundary she absolutely should not cross.
What was in there? What were they planning? What did "the old archives" contain that required this much secrecy?
She reached for the handle. Tested it gently.
Locked.
Of course it was locked.
But as her hand touched the old brass, something—happened.
A tingle. A surge. Power responding to proximity.
The lock clicked.
Not loudly. Just a soft sound of tumblers falling into place. Mechanism releasing.
Malia snatched her hand back like she'd been burned.
Her abilities. Responding to locked doors now. Responding to her unconscious need to get through barriers.
That should terrify her. Should make her run straight back to the safety of witnesses and witnesses and people who could help.
Instead, she felt something else. Something darker. More determined.
They wanted to contain her? Control her? Use her for whatever the Council decided?
Then maybe she needed to understand exactly what she was up against. What they knew. What they were planning.
Knowledge was power. And right now, she desperately needed power.
She glanced down the hallway. Empty. Getting late—most students at dinner or in their dorms. Faculty gone for the day except for whoever was beyond this door.
The smart choice was to leave. To tell the others. To not go deeper into this alone.
But when had she ever made the smart choice?
Malia pushed the door open. Just a crack. Just enough to see.
A staircase. Leading down. Stone steps worn smooth by centuries of feet. Torchlight flickering from below—actual torches, not electric lights. Old magic. Old space.
The voices were clearer now. Coming from somewhere at the bottom of those stairs.
She should leave. She should absolutely leave.
She stepped through the doorway instead.
Let the door close quietly behind her.
And descended into the old archives of Mooncrest College.
Where secrets older than her understanding waited in the dark.
Where people were making plans about her future without her consent.
Where the truth about Aurora Mooncrest—and what it meant to be her heir—might finally be revealed.
One step at a time.
Into shadow, into danger. Into answers she wasn't sure she wanted but desperately needed.
The door clicked shut behind her, locking.
Sealing her in with whatever waited below.
And Malia Reed—Mooncrest heir, targeted student, girl who'd survived everything thrown at her so far, kept walking.
Into the dark….Alone.