Chapter 61 New Routines
Malia’s POV
It begins on the Monday following my talk with Cian in the secluded garden.
I’m at lunch with July and Freddy at our regular table—buried in a corner of the dining hall where we have a good view of the social ladder, but no one really expects us to climb it—when three trays make their way over to us.
I raise my head and it is the three Moonfall brothers who are standing right there, looking all sorts of wrong against the worn out chairs and scratched table that's typically reserved for scholarship students and social outcasts..
"Mind if we join you?" Aiden asks, though he is already sliding in next to me.
July and Freddy share a look of disbelief across the table.
"Uh, sure?" Freddy says, more like it's a question than an answer. “I mean, it’s a free country. Or campus. Whatever.”
Rowan seats himself at my other side, his tray piled up with food for at least three persons. Cian sat down next to July who immediately stiffened as if expecting to be interrogated. The dining hall goes quiet for exactly three seconds-long enough for everyone to realize the Moonfall heirs are sitting at the scholarship table-then the whispers start.
"Ignore them," Aiden says quietly as his hand slips under the table and grasps mine. "They'll get bored eventually."
"Easy for you to say," Freddy mutters, but there's no real heat in it. "You're not the one who's going to get interrogated in the bathroom later about what it's like to eat lunch with royalty."
"Royalty?" Rowan laughs, the sound genuine and warm. "That's a bit dramatic."
"Is it though?" July asks, finally finding her voice. She leans forward, studying all three brothers with open curiosity. "You basically are campus royalty. Top of the food chain. Alpha heirs from one of the most powerful packs in the region. And now you're slumming it with us common folk."
"We're not slumming," Cian says calmly, taking a bite of his sandwich. "We're sitting with our mate and her friends. There's a difference."
The possessive way he says "our mate" sends a shiver down my spine. July notices—she notices everything—and raises an eyebrow at me.
"Right," she draws out the word. "About that. We should probably talk about the whole... situation."
"July," I warn.
"What situation?" Aiden asks, his voice carefully neutral.
"The situation where all three of you are apparently bonded to my best friend, and I have no idea what that means for her safety, her future, or her emotional wellbeing." July crosses her arms, her expression fierce despite her small stature. "So yeah. Let's talk about intentions."
Freddy groans. "Oh god, she's doing the protective best friend thing."
"Someone has to do it," July shoots back. “Malia’s too nice to ask the hard questions.”
"I'm right here," I protest weakly.
But Aiden is already responding, his tone respectful rather than defensive. “You need not be so concerned. If I had a friend caught up in that, I’d have questions too.”
"Great. So question one: What happens when one of you decides this arrangement is no longer working? Is Malia harmed? Cast aside? You just expected to deal with it?"
"I don’t see that happening,” Rowan says immediately. “The bond—”
“I don’t care about the bond,” says July, interrupting. “Bonds are complicated, can be fought, and can be as painful as they are sweet. I want to know about the steps you three are going to take to stop Malia from becoming collateral damage in whatever alpha heir nonsense you are involved in."
The table falls silent. Even the quiet background noise of the dining hall seems to die down when the weight of what July has said sinks over us.
Aiden says, finally, with his usual steadiness and strength, “We protect her. With all our might. It’s non-negotiable.”
"We stand behind her,” Cian says. “Whatever she needs to do, whatever she just wants to do. Even if you're going to have to step back from it."
"And we love her," Rowan finished softly. "In any way she stems let us from. To any degree she desires to let down her guard."
July stares at them for a long moment, unreadable in her expression. “Okay. Good answers. But I’m looking at you guys, too, I’m watching you three. All of you. And if any of you hurt her—”
“Easy for you to say,” Freddy mutters, but it’s not really angry. “You’re not the one who’s going to get taken into the bathroom afterward for questioning about what it’s like to eat lunch with royalty.”
“Royalty?” Rowan laughs, and it’s a real, warm sound. “That’s a bit dramatic.”
“Is it though?” asks July, now with her voice. She leans forward, observing all three brothers with a blank curiosity. “You are basically campus royalty. Top of the food chain. Alpha heirs from one of the most powerful packs in the region. And now you’re slipping down to hang with us bay regulars.”
“We're not slumming,” says Cian with a polite bite of his sandwich. “We’re sitting with our mate and her friends. It’s not the same.”
My skin crawls at the possessive tone of “our mate.” July notices—she notices everything—and raises an eyebrow at me.
“Right,” she draws out the word. “About that. We should probably talk about the life... and situation.”
“July,” I warn.
“What situation?” Aiden asks, his voice intentionally bland.
“The three of you are now somehow tied to my best friend, and I have no clue what that means for her safety, for her future, or for her emotional state.” July folds her arms, her expression fierce if only for the size of her small figure. "So yeah. Let's talk about intentions."
Freddy hide his smile in his cup of orange juice.
"Or you'll what?" Freddy asks, amused. "Fight three alpha heirs?"
"If I have to," July says deadpan. "I might lose, but I'll make it hurt first."
Even so, I feel a laugh well up in my chest. The ridiculousness of tiny July challenging the Moonfall brothers, the way she’s actually stabbing them with her eyeballs for all the world like she could take them down—it’s ridiculous and perfect and exactly what I needed.
Aiden tightens his grip on my hand beneath the table, and when I look at him, he’s smiling, too.
"I like her," he tells me, though loud enough for July to hear. "She's terrifying."
"Thank you," says July primly, at length raising her fork. "I try."
The tension breaks, and suddenly it is merely six people eating lunch. Freddy launches into a tale of his disastrous Chemistry lab that morning, complete with dramatic reenactments that almost get Rowan to spit out his water.
July grills Cian on his reading habits and they actually get into a rather deep conversation about fantasy novels. Aiden sticks close to my side, his thumb idly poring over the skin of my hand as he surreptitiously claws a bit of food from my plate, from time to time leaning over to pilfer something else.
It feels… normal. Good. Like maybe this crazy situation could actually work.
"So let me get this straight," said Freddy about twenty minutes in, gesticulating flatly with his fork between the brothers and us. “The wolf pack is expanding? We’re all just one big , happy family now?”
“I think ‘pack’ is a stretch,” Cian comments dryly. “Two ᑲᥱ𝗍ᥲs and a hybrid pack doesn’t really equal pack dynamics.”
“We’re pack-adjacent at least,” Freddy protests. “Pack-curious? Pack-friendly?”
July says with a smirk, “Pack-tolerant.”
Even Cian is smiling now, his grey eyes glowing with true amusement. It changes his whole face, makes him look ძᥱᥲძᥣᥡ һᥲᥒძs᥆mᥱ, friendlier.
“I like this,” Rowan says suddenly as he looks around the table. “This feels right. Us six.”
“It does,” I whisper in agreement.
And it’s true. Even with the stares from other tables, the whispers and finger-pointing, even with the just-utterly-foreignness of the situation— this feels like found family. Messy, fallible, and real in a way the carefully curated social circles of Mooncrest never are.
It’s meant to feel intimidating—three mates, two overprotective, all these personalities and expectations swirling together at this miniscule table. But instead, I just feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
The only dark cloud hanging over our new routine is the growing tension between Aiden and Rowan.
It's quiet — they're both too well-trained in pack politics to allow it to be obvious — but it's there.
In the way Rowan always picks the seat furthest from Aiden. In how tight Aiden's jaw becomes when Rowan laughs at something I say. In the careful way they avoid directly addressing each other, instead directing all conversation through me or Cian.
The rift from the greenhouse, from the fight that left both of them bloody and broken, hasn't healed. If anything, it's festered beneath the surface, creating a fault line that threatens to crack wider with every passing day.
They're civil, they even laugh at each other's jokes sometimes, though always a beat top late, like they're remembering they're supposed to.
But they're not okay. And I don't know how to fix it.
July notices too. She's too observant not to.
"What's going on with the tall one and the intense one?" she asks me privately after lunch 𝗍һᥲ𝗍 day, using her nicknames for Rowan and Aiden.
"They fought," I admit. "Over me. It got physical. And now they can barely look at each other."
"That's not healthy."
"I know."
"Are you going to do something about it?"
I look at her helplessly. "What can I do? I'm the reason they're fighting. How am I supposed to fix it?"
July considers this, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe you can't. Maybe they need to fix it themselves. But you can push them to actually address it instead of pretending everything is fine while slowly poisoning your weird little family dynamic."
She's right. Of course she's right.
But pushing Aiden and Rowan to confront their issues feels terrifying. What if forcing them to talk just makes it worse? What if they realize they can't both have me and one of them walks away?
What if I lose them before I've even figured out what we could be together?
That night, lying in bed—Aiden's bed, which is slowly becoming our bed—I stare at the ceiling and worry. Worry about the careful distance between the brothers. Worry about Lydia's next move. Worry about whether this fragile new routine we've built can possibly last.
Aiden is in the shower, and through the bond I can feel Rowan in his room, probably lying awake with similar thoughts. Cian is studying in the living room, his steady presence a calm anchor in the chaos of emotions swirling through our connection.
Three mates. One broken bond between brothers. A cafeteria table that's become a home.
And me, in the middle of it all, trying to hold pieces together that might not want to fit.