The Human Among Wolves Chapter 115

Aurora

My stomach twisted. “It’s still night?”

Kael pushed himself to his feet, pacing once. “Whatever that witch did before she died, it didn’t stop with her. The spell’s holding.”

I rubbed my arms, trying to fight the chill crawling under my skin. “You said her magic would die when she did.”

"I said it should've,” Kael's jaw tightened. “This wasn’t Seraphina’s kind of magic. Hers was old, grounded. What this witch used…” He looked toward the ceiling as if he could feel it pressing down on us. “…was the kind that feeds off what’s left behind.”

I swallowed hard. “Feeds how?”

Kael’s gaze flicked to the pendant at my throat. “Fear. Blood. Energy. Anything still breathing.”

Zayn scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “So we killed her, and now we’re stuck in her mess.”

“Basically,” Kael muttered.

The fire pit glowed faintly, one ember fighting to stay alive. I stared at it for a long moment before whispering, “What if it never turns to morning?”

Kael looked at me. “Then it’s not night or morning anymore. It’s just the spell. Holding us in the same hour.”

The words made my chest tighten.

Zayn pushed himself up, restless. “I’m going out. I’ll check the perimeter.”

Kael stepped in front of him. “No one goes alone.”

Zayn met his eyes, his tone edged. “Then come with me.”

Kael hesitated. “what about her?”

Zayn’s lip curled in something close to a sneer. “Relax. I’m not leaving her alone.”

I cut in before either of them could start. “Both of you stay where I can see you. Please.”

That seemed to pull them back—for a moment, anyway.

I stood, pacing toward the window. The glass was cold when I touched it. Too cold. My reflection looked strange in it—pale, faintly distorted, like the glass was a second away from warping.

I pulled my phone from my pocket out of habit, not hope. No service.

I stared at the blank signal bar anyway.

Then I scrolled to my messages and hovered over Mira’s name.

I typed You awake?

Waited.

Nothing.

Then I tried Lira. Something’s wrong. We can’t leave the woods. Please call me.

The text failed to send.

Kael must’ve noticed. “No signal?”

I shook my head, throat tight. “It’s like the network doesn’t exist.”

Zayn stepped closer, his voice low. “Magic can scramble electronics. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but…” I swallowed. “I just needed to try.”

Kael’s gaze softened for half a second. Then his attention shifted back to the window. “Try again. Maybe something breaks through.”

So I did.

Selene.

Riven.

One by one.

Every text failed.

When that didn’t work, I pressed call.

Mira first. The line clicked once, twice—then static filled my ear.

“Hello?” My voice came out too sharp. “Mira?”

Nothing.

Just that same, hollow noise—soft, low, like a whisper through wires.

I pulled the phone back and stared at the screen. The call hadn’t dropped. It was still connected.

“Someone’s on the line,” I whispered.

Kael turned. “Who?”

“Mira. I think—”

A sound came through the speaker before I could finish.

It wasn’t her voice.

It was breathing.

Slow. Measured. Too close to the mic.

Zayn crossed the room in two strides, taking the phone from me. “Who is this?”

Silence.

Then—soft, faint, almost curious—

Aurora.

It said my name.

Not Mira’s voice. Not anyone’s voice I knew.

Something else.

Zayn ended the call instantly. The sound cut off, leaving a high ringing in the air.

He set the phone down on the table, his expression unreadable. “You’re not calling anyone else.”

I could barely hear my own voice when I said, “It knew my name.”

Kael looked from the phone to me, then to the dark outside. “It’s the spell. It’s feeding through anything it can touch.”

“So it can reach through the phone?”

“Through you,” Kael said quietly.

The lantern flickered again. The shadows along the wall shifted. For a second, I thought I saw movement just outside the window—the faint outline of someone standing there, pale and still.

I blinked, and it was gone.

Kael must’ve seen my face. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

Kael didn’t argue, but I saw the muscle tick in his jaw. “We need firewood,” he said, voice low. “It’s dropping fast out there.”

Zayn looked up from where he sat by the window. “We agreed no one goes alone.”

Kael met his eyes. “Then we both go.”

The rule wasn’t up for debate. After the mimic, none of us trusted being apart.

Kael glanced at me. “Lock the door after we leave. If anything happens—”

“I know,” I said quickly. “You’ll be right outside.”

He hesitated, as if wanting to add something else, but just gave a short nod and reached for his jacket. Zayn stood too, grabbing his knife from the table. The two of them stepped out together into the dark.

The door shut with a hollow sound that echoed too long in the silence.

I slid the bolt across and stayed there for a moment, listening.

Their footsteps crunched through frost for a while—two sets, steady and even—then faded until I couldn’t hear them at all.

The cabin felt impossibly still after that. The fire had long gone out, and the cold crept through the floorboards, seeping into my skin. The lantern flame danced weakly, its light barely enough to hold back the dark corners of the room.

I sat down by the hearth and rubbed my hands together, trying not to think about the whisper that had come through Mira’s call. Or the fact that my reflection in the window had looked wrong—like it had been breathing a fraction out of sync with me.

By the time the footsteps returned, I almost didn’t believe they were real.

Two sets again. A voice calling softly through the door. “It’s us.”

I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and unlatched the bolt.

Kael came in first, carrying an armful of wood, his jacket dusted with frost. Zayn followed, knife still in hand, shoulders tense.

Kael crouched by the hearth, stacking the wood. His shirt was torn along one shoulder, a streak of something dark staining the fabric.

“Kael,” I said quietly. “You’re bleeding.”

He didn’t look up. “Not mine.”

Zayn gave a small shake of his head, as if to say leave it. He took a slow step closer to the window, scanning the trees outside before finally sheathing the blade.

Kael coaxed the flame to life, and the fire caught quickly—too quickly, like it had been waiting. Orange light spilled across the room, but instead of warmth, it only made the shadows look deeper.

The silence that followed pressed in thick. Kael stood and adjusted the lantern on the table. “No one goes near the door,” he said. “We stay inside until sunrise.”

“Assuming sunrise still exists,” Zayn muttered.

Kael didn’t answer. He moved to check the far windows instead, leaving me and Zayn by the fire.

The distance between us wasn’t physical. It was something else—quiet, heavy, sharp around the edges. He hadn’t really spoken to me since last night. Not properly.

I turned to him. “You’re still mad.”

Zayn didn’t look at me. “Now’s not the time.”

“Then when?” I asked softly. “You’ve barely looked at me.”

He exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand over his jaw. “You really want to do this here?”

“I want to know why,” I said. “You’ve been angry since Kael came back. And it’s not about the mimic.”

That made him glance over, finally. His eyes looked darker in the firelight, gray turned to storm. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Then explain it.”

He stepped closer, the floor creaking beneath his boots. “The way he proved it was him last night. The story he started to tell.”

“Zayn—”

“You didn’t let him finish,” he said, voice low but sharp. “But I heard enough.”

I swallowed. “It wasn’t what you think.”

“He was going to talk about that night at his place,” Zayn said.

I closed my eyes for a second. “Nothing happend. I took a shower, forgot my clothes in the living room and my towel slipped. But he didn't see anything.”

His voice roughened. “Doesn’t matter. He almost did.”

“You don’t get to be jealous,” I said quietly.

“I’m not jealous.” His gaze dropped to the floor, then back to me, eyes hard. “I’m furious.”

“Why?”

He laughed under his breath—a sound that wasn’t humor. “Because I don’t get to feel this way about you. Because I don’t have the right to care, but I still fucking do.”

The words hit something deep inside me. “Then stop pretending you don’t.”

He took a step closer, slow and deliberate. “You think I haven’t tried? You think I didn’t spend months trying to forget what it felt like to touch you?” His voice broke then, just slightly. “I can’t. I remember everything. Every sound, every breath, every inch of your skin.”

My chest tightened. “Zayn—”

“I hate that he gets to be around you,” he said, quieter now. “I hate that he even almost saw you naked. Because I did. And I can’t stand the thought that anyone else might remember what I can’t stop seeing.”

The fire cracked, too loud in the silence that followed.

I didn’t know what to say. He looked at me like he’d just confessed something dangerous—like saying it out loud made it real again. His jaw tightened, and he looked away before I could speak.

Kael’s voice cut through the air from across the room. “Something’s moving outside.”

Zayn turned toward the sound instantly, shoulders squaring, knife half drawn before he even realized it. The flicker of the fire stretched his shadow across the wall, long and warped.

Kael’s lantern beam swept across the window. “Stay away from the glass,” he said quietly. “It’s not wind.”

The fire hissed, guttering lower, and the glow dimmed until the walls seemed to pulse with shadow.

And then—a sound.

A single, deliberate knock at the door.