Chapter 59 Walk With Me
Malia's POV
Two days after the library incidents, life has become a little too normal. Aiden is more protective than ever, but not in a suffocating way. He escorts me to class, he sits nearby when we eat, he rests a hand on my lower back as if holding me there is necessary for his stability.
Rowan has been gentler, more cautious. He brings me coffee in the mornings, sends sweet texts throughout the day, but doesn’t push for more than I’m ready to give. Like he’s afraid one wrong move will send me running again.
And Cian... Cian watches. Always watching with those grey eyes that see too much, understand too much. He hasn’t said a word about what happened, hasn’t asked for an explanation or reassurance.
He just watches and waits, as if he were putting together a puzzle nobody else is able to see. So when he appears at my classroom door as Advanced Pack Dynamics lets out, I’m not entirely surprised.
"Walk with me?” he asks, though it is hardly a question.
I glance at July, who’s packing up at my side. She gives me an encouraging nod, mouthing “go” before heading for her next class.
"Okay," I say, swinging my bag over my shoulder.
Cian doesn’t say a word as we exit the building, not telling us where we’re heading or why. He's simply walking around with his hands in his pockets at an unhurried and relaxed pace, and yet I don't feel like I have to break the silence with some anxious talking.
That’s one of the many things I’ve grown to love about Cian—he doesn’t mind silence. Don't need the constant talking, or the constant reassurance. He just... exists, solid and steady, like a mountain that doesn’t need to boast about its might.
We walk across campus and down the main quad, where students are lying on the grass soaking up the afternoon sun, by the library where I can still pretty much see Lydia’s red lips moving through Aiden.
Gone are all the familiar landmarks until we reach a corner of campus I hardly ever go to. Cian takes me down a narrow path between two old buildings, through an archway I have never seen before.
On the other side is a secret garden, small and intimate, with old stone walls adorned with ivy. One bench nestles under an old oak tree, its limbs a canopy of golden and crimson leaves. The space is breathtakingly beautiful and secluded — the kind of place you could drift for hours and never have anyone realize you were there.
"I come here when I need to relax," Cian says, his first words having spoken since we left the classroom. "Not many people know about it. It's peaceful."
He’s sitting on the bench and I sit next to him, but not too close. The courtyard is silent except for the rush of leaves and the faint muffled campus sounds emerging from behind the stone walls.
Cian is silent for a lengthy moment, staring at the ivy wrapped walls, his face pensive. When he finally does, he sounds even-keeled and unflustered.
“I know you have a lot on your plate right now,” he says. “Rowan’s persistence, Lydia’s harassment, Aiden’s intensity. The bond that’s constantly tugging at you. Everyone needs something from you, everyone is asking you for something.”
I have nothing to say to this so I just nod.
“Aiden loves hard,” adds Cian. ”When he loves something, he devours it. That's part of what makes him such a good alpha heir — that absolute certainty, that rock-hard focus. But I just think sometimes it’s too much.”
“Yea, it is,” I say softly.
“And Rowan...” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Rowan feels everything. All emotions are heightened, all connections are Strong and Instant. He’s been in love with you, since the moment the bond snapped into place. This sort of intensity has its own level of pressure.”
“I know. " My voice is barely above a whisper.
Cian stops and fully turns to look at me, those grey eyes piercing through all the walls I have ever constructed. “I wanted to offer you one that was simpler. Without all the burden that entails.”
"Cian—"
"Wait for a moment." His voice is soft but authoritative. "I'm not really asking for any big declarations or for you to start writing grand romantic gestures. I'm not explaining why you should pick me or profess your affections. I just want to give you space to breathe. A place you don't have to be anything but yourself."
I feel my throat tighten unexpectedly with emotion.
"You've been fighting so hard," he says. "Fighting Lydia, fighting your own uncertainties, fighting to figure out where you belong in all of this. And my brothers, as as much as they love you, they both want something from you. Dedication, clarity, certainty. They want to know what they're dealing with."
"And you don't?"
"I know where I stand already." His voice is firm and confident. "I'm yours. The bond made that clear. But to say, more than that, I want to be yours. Whether you choose me back or not, whether this works out or not—I'm here. No conditions, no pressure.”
Tears prick at my eyes, hot and insistent.
“I understand it’s been hard,” Cian whispers. "I know you've been drowning. And I can't fix everything. I can’t make Lydia vanish, or make your doubts go away, or get us out of the impossible situation we’re all in. But I can give you this."
He reaches around and takes my hand. Not possessive or demanding, just warm and steady. His fingers intertwine with mine as though they belong there or as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
“No pressure," he says. "No stress. No tough expectations. It is just… this. When you want it. A silent place. A warm hand. A person who notices you—really notices you—and doesn't require you to be anything other than exactly who you are."
A drop of my tears escapes, rolling down my cheek. I don't even attempt to stop it.
“Of the three of us, I know I’m the least obvious choice,” Cian continues, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand. "Aiden is commanding and protective. Rowan is passionate and devoted. And I’m... quiet. Analytical. Not the sort of mate that romance novels get written about.”
"It's not true," I protest, my voice cracking.
“Not necessarily.” He raises our intertwined hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles softly, the motion so tender it robs me of breath. "But I also know I can offer you something that they can't. Peace. Stability. A place where you don't have to perform or prove anything."
"I don't know what I did to deserve you," I whisper. "Any of you."
He steps closer, closing the small distance between us until the warmth of his body chases away the autumn chill.
I hold my breath.
Slowly, gently, his hands rise to cup my face, thumbs brushing the tear tracks on my cheeks. Those steady grey eyes lock onto mine, holding me there in quiet suspension—searching, seeing, knowing—without demand or rush.
Time slows. His touch is reverent, grounding. No kiss, just this intimate cradle, this unspoken promise suspended between us, warm and endless.
“You exist, you." His response is simple, absolute. "That's all you ever had to do. And I love you, Malia…so much, it hurts to see you sad."
I look up at him, my heart racing…