The Human Among Wolves Chapter 112

Aurora

Kael’s eyes narrowed. “We’re walking in circles again.”

Zayn swore under his breath. “Didn’t we just kill the thing doing this?”

Kael glanced back at me, then at the forest ahead. “Apparently not.”

The air felt different again—denser. I touched the pendant through my shirt. It was cold now, but it pulsed once beneath my fingers, faint as a heartbeat.

“We’re not getting out tonight,” Kael said finally. His tone was calm, but there was a weight behind it that made my stomach tighten.

Zayn ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “So what? We just keep walking until something else jumps us?”

Kael’s gaze shifted toward the faint clearing ahead. “No. We go back.”

I blinked. “Back?”

“To the cabin,” he said. “If the barrier’s still active, that place might be the center. If there’s a spell keeping us here, we’ll find the mark there.”

Zayn’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You want to sleep in the place where Seraphina was probably murdered in?”

Kael’s look said he didn’t particularly want to sleep anywhere near here—but we didn’t have much choice.

“Night’s coming,” he said quietly. “And I’d rather have walls.”

Zayn glanced up at the sky. The light was already thinning, that strange, colorless dusk that didn’t feel natural. “Fine,” he said finally. “But if anything breathes wrong, I’m torching it.”

Kael didn’t argue.

We turned back. The walk was silent this time, heavier. The trees didn’t move, but they seemed closer, as if the forest was folding in on itself.

When we finally reached the clearing again, the cabin stood exactly where we’d left it—only now, it looked older. Grayer. Like the life had been drained from it.

Zayn came to a stop beside me. “I swear this thing wasn’t leaning before.”

He was right. The cabin slanted slightly now, as if the earth beneath it had shifted.

Kael approached first, cautious but steady. “Stay behind me.”

I didn’t argue.

The door creaked when he pushed it open. The smell hit instantly—dust, damp wood, and something faintly metallic, like old blood.

Zayn stepped in after him, blade still in hand. "What now?"

Kael crossed the room, crouching near the cold hearth. “We make it through the night. The magic’s still active, which means we’re not getting out before dawn.”

Zayn’s head snapped up. “You’re saying we’re stuck here.”

Kael met his gaze evenly. “For now.”

Zayn swore under his breath and dropped his pack beside the door. “You better be right about dawn.”

Kael didn’t answer. He was already unpacking supplies—small lanterns, a flask of water, a knife that looked more ceremonial than practical. He moved with the kind of focus that came from habit, not calm.

I sat down on one of the overturned chairs, my legs finally giving out. The floor was cold even through my jeans. My pendant pulsed once—faint, then still.

Kael straightened, brushing dirt off his palms. “It’s getting cold,” he said. “We’ll need a fire.”

Zayn looked up from where he’d been sitting near the door. “There’s not much out there that isn’t soaked.”

“I’ll find something,” Kael said, checking the knife on his belt before reaching for the lantern.

“You’re going out there alone?” Zayn’s tone wasn’t mocking for once—just cautious.

Kael gave a single nod. “One of us has to. The other stays here. She’s not being left alone.”

Zayn’s jaw flexed but he didn’t argue. He just shifted his knife on his thigh, the metal glinting faintly in the dim light. “You sure about this?”

Kael’s hand lingered on the door handle. “I’ll stay close to the clearing. Ten minutes.”

I stood when he did, the weight in my chest tightening. “Kael—be careful, okay?”

He met my eyes, something flickering there for a second—worry, maybe, or something heavier he didn’t want to say out loud. “I will,” he said simply.

And then he was gone.

The door shut behind him with a soft, hollow sound, and the cabin felt immediately smaller.

Zayn stayed by the door, listening. His eyes didn’t leave the wood, but his body was tense in that way that meant he was ready to move if he had to.

I sank back into the chair, my heartbeat too loud for how quiet the world had gone. The sound of the forest outside was gone again—no wind, no crickets, nothing. Just the soft, uneven rhythm of Zayn’s breathing.

“You think he’ll be okay?” I asked finally. My voice came out lower than I meant.

Zayn looked over his shoulder. “Kael can handle himself.”

Then, softer, “You’re worried.”

“Of course I’m worried,” I said. “We just fought whatever the hell that was out there, and now he’s walking back into it like it’s a grocery run.”

A faint curve pulled at his mouth—half a smile, half something else. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Deflect. Joke when you’re scared.”

I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but I didn’t have the energy to lie. “You noticed?”

He turned fully toward me, resting his back against the wall. “I notice a lot of things.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The lantern threw a slow, shifting glow across his face, catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint cut on his cheek. He looked tired—worn in the kind of way that only comes from fighting things you can’t name.

My gaze lingered too long. He noticed that, too.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, but my pulse gave me away.

He pushed off the wall, crossing the room until he was standing just in front of me. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that the air between us felt too small. “You keep saying that word like it means something.”

“Which word?”

“Nothing.”

I swallowed. “Because that’s what it is.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes searching mine. “You sure?”

My throat felt dry, like every word I could say might come out wrong.

And then—unbidden, unwanted—the memory of last night flickered back.

The warmth of his hand on my neck.

The way he’d whispered I’m so sorry against my skin.

The tear I’d felt but pretended not to.

It lodged in my chest before I could stop it.

“What did you mean?” I asked softly.

He frowned. “When?”

“Last night,” I said. “You said you were sorry.”

Something flickered across his face—quick, sharp, and gone before I could name it. He dropped his gaze, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You shouldn’t think about that.”

“Too late,” I said softly. “You said it like you meant it.”

He laughed under his breath, but there was no humor in it. “I did.”

“Then tell me why.”

Zayn didn’t answer right away. The lanternlight caught in his eyes, turning the gray almost silver. He looked older somehow—tired, guarded.

Finally, he said, “Because I fucked up.”

I swallowed. “You mean before?”

His jaw flexed once. “Yeah. Before.”

He didn’t have to explain what before meant. We both knew.

The night everything between us had changed.

The night I gave him something I’d never given anyone.

The night he’d made me feel wanted—and then ruined it with words that had cut deeper than claws ever could.

My voice came out lower than I meant. “You said something you can’t take back.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because if I hadn’t, you’d still be mine.”

The room felt too quiet after that.

My chest tightened. “And that’s a bad thing?”

His expression twisted, like the question physically hurt him. “You have no idea.”

I waited for an excuse. An apology. Anything. But he just stood there, staring at the floor like it held all the answers he couldn’t give me.

Finally, I said, “You can tell me the truth, Zayn. Whatever it is.”

He gave a soft, humorless laugh. “That’s the problem. I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both.”

There was something final in the way he said it. Quiet, but absolute.

I stood, unable to sit still anymore. “You don’t get to say you’re sorry and then shut me out again.”

He looked at me, eyes bright in the dim light. “I said I was sorry because I hurt you. Not because I changed my mind.”

That stopped me. “So what, you meant it?”