The Human Among Wolves Chapter 153

Aurora

I looked at her and waited.

The chamber felt impossibly quiet, like even the stone walls were holding their breath. My pulse thudded in my ears, slow and heavy, each beat stretching the moment thinner and thinner.

“She’s…” the leader began, then paused.

That single hesitation made my stomach tighten.

“She’s in the eastern woods.”

For a second, the words didn’t land. They just hovered between us, unreal.

The east.

A hollow laugh almost slipped out of me before I could stop it. Great. Of course. We were as far north as we could be without falling off the map, and she was on the complete opposite end.

I opened my mouth, already forming a response—something sharp, something frustrated—but she wasn’t finished.

“She’s where your father’s kingdom is.”

The sentence hit harder than the first.

It stopped me cold.

The air seemed to leave my lungs all at once, my thoughts stalling like they’d slammed into a wall. My chest felt tight, my body suddenly very aware of the space around me, of Zayn behind me, of the weight of everything I’d just learned.

“My father is… in the east?” I asked quietly.

The words sounded strange coming out of my mouth, like they didn’t quite belong to me yet.

She nodded once.

“Do you know anything about him?” I asked.

It was the one question that had been circling my thoughts since forever. Seraphina hadn’t been able to tell me much—she’d admitted she barely knew him at all—and I’d been holding on to the hope that the leader would know something. Anything.

She didn’t answer right away.

Her gaze drifted for a moment, unfocused, as if she were reaching back through years that didn’t quite belong to her. Then she sighed, slow and measured.

“Not much,” she said at last.

The words settled heavily in my chest.

After a brief pause, she continued, her voice quieter now. “I only know that he loved your mother very much.”

Something in the way she said it—so certain, so unembellished—made my throat tighten.

“When Cecilia disappeared,” the leader went on, “he didn’t know she was pregnant. She was going to tell him. She never got the chance.”

My hands curled slowly at my sides.

“They took her before she could,” she said. “And after that… he tore half the world apart trying to find her.”

I could picture it without meaning to—rage, desperation, a king refusing to accept loss.

“But he never did,” the leader finished softly. “It was as if she had vanished from the world entirely.”

“What’s his name?” Zayn asked suddenly.

His voice cut through the silence, sharp and tense in a way that made me turn toward him immediately. The leader shifted her gaze to him at last, only briefly, as if even acknowledging him required effort.

“Theron Blackmoor,” she said.

The effect was instant.

Zayn stepped forward as far as the magic restraining him would allow, his body going rigid. I felt it before I fully understood it—a sudden shift, a crack in something solid inside him.

“Zayn?” I called softly.

He didn’t react.

It was like he hadn’t heard me at all.

“Are you…” His voice dropped, rough and unsteady. “Are you sure?”

The leader’s expression hardened, her eyes turning glacial. “Are you questioning me, boy?” she asked coldly, her tone making it clear she had no patience for doubt—especially from him.

Zayn swallowed hard. “My father was best friends with him.”

The words hit me like a blow.

“What did you just say?” I breathed, staring at him.

He finally looked at me then, his face pale, eyes unfocused like he was staring through years of memories all at once. “He—he used to talk about him,” Zayn said, the words stumbling over each other. “All the time. About how they drifted apart. About how things changed.”

His voice broke. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tightening as if he were holding something back.

“That son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath.

Then he opened his eyes again and looked straight at me.

“He…” Zayn dragged in a breath, his jaw tightening. “He kidnapped your mother.”

The words landed heavy, ugly, impossible to ignore.

“I’m fucking sure,” he went on, voice low and burning, “that Theron has no idea his best friend is behind it.

“Fuck,” I muttered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

I looked at Zayn, really looked at him, searching his face for even the smallest crack of doubt. “Are you sure?”

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t soften it for me. He just nodded once, sharp and certain.

“I’m positive, Rory.”

My chest tightened. Slowly, I turned back to the leader, my heart beating so hard it felt like it might bruise my ribs from the inside.

“Do you know where my father is now?” I asked. Then, quieter, like I was afraid of the answer. “I mean… is my mother with him?”

The leader’s expression didn’t change, but her voice softened just enough to hurt more.

“No,” she said. “She’s in his woods, but not with him.”

I swallowed.

“I don’t know if he even knows she’s there,” she continued. “After she was returned… he found her. But she didn’t want to see him. She pushed him away.”

Each word felt deliberate. Final.

“He tried,” the leader said calmly. “For a time. And then… he stopped.”

My throat burned.

“He’s married now,” she added. “To someone else.”

The room seemed to tilt, just slightly, like the ground beneath me had lost its balance.

Married.

I stood there, silent, trying to fit all of it together—my mother, hidden in the woods of the man who loved her, and my father, alive and close and impossibly distant. And somehow, none of them together.

Nothing about it felt whole.

“So…” My voice came out quieter than I meant it to. “He doesn’t know about me?”

I asked it anyway, even though the answer had already settled heavy in my chest.

She shook her head.

“As far as I know,” she said, “he doesn’t.”

I nodded once. The motion felt distant, automatic. It shouldn’t have hurt—at least not this much—but it did. There was something hollow in the space where that knowledge landed, something I wasn’t ready to touch yet.

I turned to Zayn. “We have to go,” I said finally. “To eastern woods. We have to find her.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t question it. He just watched me, jaw tight, like he already knew there was no stopping me.

“It’s getting dark,” the leader said calmly. “Stay here for the night. I have a room prepared for you.”

Her gaze shifted briefly to Zayn, cool and assessing.

“The Lycan can stay too.”

I looked at him, and he gave me a slight nod of the head.

“Alright. We’ll stay for the night,” I said.

The leader gave a small, satisfied nod, as if that confirmed something in her mind.

We finally left the chamber, her presence guiding us silently through the twisting paths of the coven’s cluster of houses. The trees outside whispered in the wind, their shadows flickering across the wooden walls as we moved.

We stopped in front of one of the smaller houses, its dark wood softened by the faint glow of lanterns hanging from the eaves. The leader produced a key, sliding it into the lock with practiced ease. The door creaked open, revealing the interior.

Stepping inside, I blinked. It looked… almost normal. Warm, lived-in, and oddly comforting despite everything that had just happened.

A small kitchen sat to the right of the door. Copper pots hung neatly above a worn wooden counter, a few ceramic bowls stacked beside a small stove. The scent of herbs—dried and bundled—lingered in the air, faint but grounding. A narrow table with two chairs sat against the wall, a small lantern casting soft light over its surface.

To the left, a modest bed was tucked into a corner, simple linens folded neatly, a thick wool blanket at the foot. A small shelf above held a few books, their spines cracked and worn, and a candle stub burned low in its holder. A rug, frayed at the edges, lay beneath the bed, softening the creak of the wooden floorboards.

It was simple. Unassuming.

The leader stepped back, allowing us to take it in, silent and unreadable, her silver eyes flicking once over each detail as though she were assessing whether we belonged here.