Chapter 56 Escalation
Malia's POV
The gossip begins the very next day.
I hear them in whispers between classes, I catch them in the stares I get when I walk down the halls. The events according to Lydia have gone viral throughout Lunar Ridge’s social scene — how I attacked her out of the blue, how I’m a ticking time bomb, and how the Moonfall brothers are just taking care of me because they're bound by some fucked up code.
“I heard she went all the way off,” some voice mutters as I walk by. “For no reason she was hitting Lydia off and on.”
"Scholarship students," another voice says knowingly. “They’re just so aggressive. Chip on their shoulder, you know?”
So I lower my head and keep on walking, not giving them the pleasure of any kind of reaction.
But it doesn't end there.
In Advanced Pack Dynamics, Lydia “accidentally” knocks my coffee off the desk as she walks by. It runs all over my notebook, destroying three pages of notes I had taken for hours on end.
“Oops,” she says with big innocent eyes. “I'm so clumsy. Sorry about that.”
From his lecturing Professor Williams looks up, frowns, but utters not a word. Just motion us to mop it up and get on with it. Lydia beams at me sweetly as she hands me a salve of paper towel. The scratches on her neck from our fight are meticulously hidden with makeup, but if I look close enough, I could still see the faint marks.
Small wins, I tell myself. But they ring hollow when she's winning the war.
Already I am dead tired on day three.
Lydia’s war on me is exhaustive and calculating. It's not like there's anything ever quite plain enough to report, or quite enough to cross the line of actionable harassment. Just a constant drain, a drip of small cruelties designed to erode me away.
She spins more tales — that I’m boning all three brothers simultaneously, that I’m using them for their money, that I’m trying to trap them with the bond. Every story is more vicious than the last, and each one is spread throughout the school like poison.
In the dining hall, she always makes sure to sit nearby, speaking with Dina and Beretta in feigned outrage about “desperate girls who don’t know their place” and “hybrids who can’t grasp pack dynamics”.
When we pass in the hall, she mutters little barbs just loud enough for me to hear but too quiet for any professor to hear.
"Must be nice, selling your body to move up in the social ladder."
"I wonder how long until they wake up and realize they made a bad decision.”
"Scholarship trash will always be trash, no matter who’s bed she’s warming."
Nothing she says is accidental: each barb is engineered to hurt, then flee without trace. Each one breaks off a little more of my cool.
July and Freddy notices most of it. They're with me in the mess hall when Lydia makes her loudest remarks, trailing me when she “accidentally” runs her fist into me strong enough to make me fall.
“‘That’s it,’ Freddy says after Lydia shoulder-checks me in the hallway for a third time this week. “I’m informing the Moonfalls’. This is bullshit.”
“No.” I take hold of his arm, gripping. “Please. I told them to let me take care of this. If you tell them, it weakens the whole thing.”
“But you’re not dealing with this,” July says softly with worry in her eyes. "You're just taking it. That’s a difference.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I say, with the sound of my tired voice leaking out. “If I fight back, then I’m proving her point that I am a violent and unstable person. If I report her, it makes me look weak and petty. If I tell the brothers, I’m scurrying to them to solve my problems.”
“So you just let her torture you?” Freddy’s teeth grit. “That’s not a solution, Malia.”
"It's the only answer I have right now." Once more I start walking, off to my next class. “She’ll just get bored eventually. Shift focus to something else then target.”
But even as it leaves my lips, I don’t believe it.
Lydia’s not gonna get bored. This is not about entertaining herself—this is about something personal for her. It’s to put me in my place, to make sure I understand that I don’t belong in her world.
And the worst part? A tiny, insidious part of me is starting to wonder if she has a point.
The brothers sense that something is off.
They respect my space, for the most part — no more popping up at July’s dorm unannounced, no more non-stop texts wondering where I am. But they’re not blind.
“You look tired,” Rowan says as we pass each other in the halls between classes. His hand rises to cup my cheek, tender and worried. “Are you sleeping all right?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, because the truth is I’m not sleeping much at all. Between the stress of steering clear of Lydia, the relentless tug of the bond, and my own spinning thoughts, sleep is a distant dream.
“Malia— ”
“I’m fine, Rowan. Really.” His touch, the hurt that flickers in his eyes—makes me step back. “I just have a lot of homework.”
He doesn't trust me, but he does release me.
Cian is more direct. He finds me after Pack History, grey eyes brushing my face with that terrifyingly invasive perception that observes too much.
“What's going on?” he inquires softly.
“Nothing. Why?”
“Because you’re lying.” He says it plainly, matter-of-fact – with no judgement. “Something is bothering you. I can tell in the way you are holding yourself, and the way you keep looking over your shoulder.”
“I’m just stressed about midterms,” I deflect, already moving toward the door.
“Malia.”
I halt, but don’t look back. “Please, Cian. Don’t push this.”
He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Okay. But when you want to talk about it, I’m here."
I nod, then scurry away before he can see the tears that are brimming on my lashes. Aiden is the hardest to avoid. He watches me like a hawk, stalking me around campus, noting every trip I take to the library, every conversation I have with other students. I can sense his gaze on me even from where I can’t see him, the bond heightening his protective nature to a point where it’s nearly stifling.
But he is true to his word and leaves well alone. Doesn't ask for answers or demand confrontations. He just bides his time and that, somehow, is worse.
Friday afternoon, I’m drained and craving an end to the week. I have one more class, then I can make my way back to July’s dorm and hole up the whole weekend. I’m making my way through the trail behind the library—a shortcut that’s generally clear at this time of day—when I sense somebody coming up behind me.
I spin around and Lydia, for once, is by herself and looks predatory. "Going somewhere?" she asks, asysing herself as an obstruction.
My heart sinks, but I hold my ground. "Move, Lydia."
"Or what? You’ll fight me again? And get us both in more trouble?" She laughs, a sound so cold and sharp. "Please. I think we both know you can’t afford to have another incident. Your precious Moonfalls did that in no uncertain terms."
"How do you—"
"Oh, please. Do you really think people don't talk? Everyone is aware of their little ultimatum. "One more brawl and they'll kill me." She takes a step closer, her smile is fierce. "But that’s the thing with being smart, Malia. I don’t have to fight you, all I have to do is make your life miserable in ways they can’t punish me for.”
“Is that what you’re angry about? Revenge?”
“This is about making you know your place.” Her eyes glitter with real hate. "You skipped and danced into our world under the impression you had a right to be here. Thinking that just because some cosmic accident bonded you to the Moonfalls you deserved them.”
“I never—"
“You don’t speak for the pack” she said, her tone dropping to something near one of those hollow, conversational whisperings, which only makes it worse. "You're not pack, you're not even full wolf. You’re a hybrid, you’re nobody, you just got lucky. And deep down, they know it.”
"That's not true."
“Isn’t it?” She tilts her head as if looking at me through a lens.“He’ll never really want you,” you know. You're just a novelty.A phase.Something exotic and different to play with while he's young and stupid."
The words cut deeper than they ought to. Right down to the insecurity I've been suppressing.
“Once he gets bored—and he will get bored—he’ll come back to someone worthy. Someone who knows his world, and his obligations. Somebody like me.”
"Aiden doesn't want you," I say, but my voice sounds weak even to my own ears.
"Maybe not today. But bonds can be severed Malia. Especially bonds with the wrong person." She leans close, and I am overpowered by her perfume. "How long do you think it will be before he decides you’re holding him back? Before all three of them see that they were wrong? A month? A year?"
"Stop—"
“They’ll never think you’re enough. You’ll be the scholarship girl who got lucky, the girl who’s always trying a little too hard to find a place in a society that refuses to accept her.” Her smile is ruthless and triumphant. “And one of these days, you’ll see that, too. You’ll see her the way everyone else does; as a mistake that needs to be fixed.”
Something inside me cracks.
Because how much as I want to pretend I was just reading cruelty, how much as I want to convince myself she’s only being harsh, a part of me has been thinking it too. Wondering the same thing.
So what if the novelty of the couple phase wears off? When the bond isn’t strong enough to serve as a bridge between their world and mine? When they realize I’m not worth the trouble I cause?
"Nothing to say?" Lydia asks, her voice soft and poisonous. "That's what I thought. Deep down you know I’m right."
She moves around me, her shoulder brushes against mine as she walks past.
"Have fun with it while it lasts," she calls back over her shoulder. “Because it’s not going to last. Nothing ever does.”
Then she's gone, and I’m left on the trail with empty air pressing in on all sides, her words echoing in my head like a curse.
I make it back to July's dorm before the tears start.
She’s not there–still in class so I collapse on her couch and cry. Not this time the angry tears from the bathroom fight, but something deeper. Sadder. The tears of someone who’s starting to believe the poison that’s been dripped into her ears all week.
My phone buzzes with a text from Aiden: Dinner tonight? All of us?
I gaze at the screen, Lydia's words still ringing in my ears. Novelty, phase. Wrong person.
I type back: Not tonight. Need some space.
The response is immediate: Everything okay?
Me: Fine. Just tired.
A longer pause, then: Okay. But Malia—if something's wrong, please tell us.
I don't respond. Just to set my phone aside and curl up on the couch, pulling a blanket over myself as if it can shield me from the doubts that are secretly eating me up from the inside out.
Lydia's won this round, and we both know it.
Because she didn't need to hurt me physically. She just needed to make me hurt myself with questions I don’t have answers to.
And it worked.