The Human Among Wolves Chapter 123

Aurora

After a while, I turned toward Zayn. “About your mother—”

He cut me off, voice low but even. “Not now, Aurora.”

There was no anger in it, just exhaustion. A line drawn quietly in the sand.

Kael’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he murmured. “Not like that. I was… pissed. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Zayn didn’t look at him. “Forget it.”

Kael didn’t. I could tell by the way his jaw clenched that he wouldn’t.

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

When the academy gates came into view, I almost didn’t recognize them. Everything looked too normal—students walking across the courtyard, sunlight spilling through the windows, the faint echo of laughter from somewhere near the cafeteria.

Kael pulled up by the entrance. “You’ll be safe here,” he said.

“Will you?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His lips curved, just a little. “Always.”

Zayn opened his door first. “Come on,” he said, voice rough. “Let’s not draw attention.”

We stepped out, and the car engine faded behind us as Kael drove away.

Inside the academy, the light was soft, ordinary. The kind of morning glow that belonged to breakfast trays and lectures and everyday life. But as soon as we crossed the hall, something in my chest tightened.

Zayn’s dorm was on the left. Mine was down the opposite corridor. We stopped at the corner, both too drained to pretend we knew what to say.

“I’ll find you later,” I said quietly.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Then he turned away, his shoulders stiff, and disappeared through the door to the right.

I made my way to my dorm room, the quiet pressing against my ears. When I reached the door, I hesitated, bracing myself for the noise—Mira’s voice, Selene’s questions, a dozen versions of “where the hell have you been?”

I eased the door open, just a crack at first, half-expecting the room to be empty or—worse—silent in that eerie way the cabin had been. But the soft chatter of hair dryers and the rustle of clothes instantly grounded me.

My roommates were already up, moving around the room in their usual morning chaos. Mira was digging through her makeup bag. Lira was standing on her tiptoes in the mirror, fixing her eyeliner. Riven was pacing between her closet and the hamper, muttering about something she’d misplaced. Selene wasn’t there—obviously. She was with her mate again, probably hadn’t even slept here.

For a moment, none of them noticed me lingering in the doorway. It felt surreal, watching them go on like everything in the world was normal. Like I hadn’t just crawled out of days of darkness and fog.

I cleared my throat.

Mira spun so fast her ponytail whipped her shoulder. Her face lit up. “Rory!”

Before I could blink, she was rushing toward me—and the other two right behind her. Riven’s braid swung wildly, and Lira slammed straight into Mira’s back because she hadn’t slowed down in time.

They crashed into me in a tangle of arms and perfume and warmth.

“Holy shit, you’re alive,” Mira mumbled against my shoulder before pulling back to actually look at me.

I let out a breathy laugh I didn’t really feel. “Sorry I didn’t call. We had no signal, and we were trapped in that fucking cabin for days and I—”

“Wait—what?” Riven cut in, blinking. “Days? Rory, it’s Thursday.”

I stared at her, the floor tilting a little under my feet. “What?”

“It’s Thursday morning,” she repeated slowly, like she thought I was joking.

I shook my head, the words slipping out before I could catch them. “What do you mean it's Thursday? "We left on Wednesday morning. You’re telling me it’s been eight days? That we were gone for a week?”

Her brows pulled together. “What? No! Not a week.” She exchanged a look with Lira. “You left yesterday. Literally yesterday.”

“What do you mean yesterday?” My voice came out louder than I intended, raw around the edges. “We weren’t gone for a day. We weren’t gone for a night. We were in that cabin for days. We didn’t sleep once without waking up to the same damn darkness.”

Mira’s smile faded. Lira’s face sobered. Riven stepped back like she suddenly didn’t know where to put her hands.

“Rory… what do you mean?” Mira asked softly.

There was no judgment in her voice—just worry. The kind that crept under the skin and made my throat tight.

I inhaled slowly, bracing myself. My hands were shaking a little, I realized only when I tried to push my hair behind my ear and missed. “Okay,” I whispered, “just—sit. All of you.”

They didn’t even hesitate. Mira perched on the edge of her bed. Lira slid down beside her. Riven crossed her arms like she needed something to hold onto but still stayed close. Their eyes stayed fixed on me, their faces open, waiting.

I sat on my own bed, the mattress dipping under me, and finally began.

I told them everything.

Not fast. Not in one rush. My voice felt too raw for that. The words came in pieces—slow, halting, pulled out of me like threads that had tangled too tight. I told them about the forest that wouldn’t move. About the loops. About the mimic. About the cabin that felt like it was swallowing us whole. About the basement we shouldn’t have opened. About the way time stretched and snapped and folded like it wasn’t ours anymore.

I didn’t look at them while I talked. I stared at my hands, at the floor, at the wall—anywhere else—because saying it all out loud made it real.

When I finally lifted my head, all three were staring at me with wide, stunned eyes. Mira’s lips were parted like she’d forgotten how to close them. Riven looked like she was replaying every word and still not quite understanding how it added up. Lira’s face had gone soft in that way she got when she was trying not to cry.

“Rory…” Lira said quietly, her voice barely a breath, “I’m so, so sorry you had to go through that.”

Something in my chest cracked—not painfully, just enough to let the air in again.

Before I could respond, all three of them moved at once.

Arms wrapped around me from every direction—tight, warm, overwhelming. Mira pressed her cheek to the top of my head. Lira hugged me from the side, fingers curling into the back of my shirt. Riven’s arms circled my shoulders, pulling me firmly into the center of them like they were trying to shield me from the world.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was bone-crushing.

And it was exactly what I needed.

My eyes closed on instinct, the tension in my body loosening for the first time since the forest swallowed us. The smell of perfume, shampoo, the faint trace of laundry powder—it was all so painfully normal I felt something in me finally settle.

After a few minutes, their arms loosened around me. One by one, they pulled back, though none of them stepped far. They just hovered close, as if letting go completely wasn’t an option yet.

Mira glanced down at her watch—just a quick look, out of habit—and then her eyes widened. “Oh, shit,” she breathed. “We’re late.”

Riven jolted. Lira blinked like she’d genuinely forgotten the concept of time existed.

And then the room turned into controlled chaos.

Backpacks zipped. Jackets were grabbed. Shoes were hunted down with the kind of frantic precision only girls running late could manage. They moved fast—five minutes, maybe less—and even in that rush, they kept glancing at me. Like they didn’t want to leave but had to.

Mira squeezed my arm before she headed out. “We’re not done talking,” she warned.

Riven pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at me. “You’re not escaping us.”

Lira just gave me a small, soft smile before slipping through the door.

Then they were gone.

My body felt grimy with the woods, the cabin, the fear, the smoke—everything. Layers of it. I needed it off me.

I grabbed clean clothes, my towel, and whatever products my hands landed on, then stepped out into the hallway and made my way toward the showers.

The walk felt longer than usual. Maybe because everything around me looked normal—students talking, the faint hum of chatter behind closed doors—but inside I still felt like I’d just crawled out of some other world.

The shower stalls were warm and quiet, steam curling lazily toward the ceiling. The moment the hot water hit my skin, my shoulders dropped. The heat sank into my muscles, washing away the cold that had settled so deep in me the past—what I thought were days.

I stood there longer than I meant to, letting the water run over my face, my hair, my hands. Letting the noise of it drown out the last echoes of the cabin.

When I finally turned the faucet off, everything felt softer. Not fixed—not even close—but lighter.

I got dressed slowly, pulling on clean jeans, a shirt, and a warm socks. The kind of clothes that made me feel human again.

And then… I knew where I needed to go.

Zayn.

He needed to hear about the time shift. And honestly? I needed to see him. To make sure he was here—solid, real—not lost somewhere between the woods and whatever hell we’d escaped.

I took a breath, slung my bag over my shoulder, and headed down the hallway toward the boys’ dorms.

Toward him.