The Human Among Wolves Chapter 156

Aurora

After breakfast, Marcelline didn’t let us leave empty-handed. She moved around with quiet purpose, packing food and water into our backpacks like she’d done it a thousand times before. Enough for a few days, she said. Just in case.

We thanked her—both of us, more than once. It didn’t feel like enough, but it was all we had. We talked a little longer after that, nothing dramatic, just the kind of words people use when they know what comes next won’t be easy. Eventually, there was nothing left to delay.

It was time to head east.

We left the coven and followed the narrow path through the trees, the forest slowly thinning as the air grew sharper and colder. My boots crunched softly against the ground, and with every step, the silence settled deeper in my chest. Neither of us talked much. We didn’t need to.

After about an hour, the trees finally opened up into a small clearing. Zayn’s car sat there exactly where he’d left it, dark and still, like it had been waiting for us.

I climbed in first, the cold biting straight through my jacket. I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me as I pulled the door shut and wrapped my arms around myself.

Zayn got in right after me. The door slammed closed, sealing us inside, and the sound felt final in a way I couldn’t explain. He turned the key immediately. The engine came to life, low and steady, and a second later he cranked up the heat.

Warm air slowly filled the car.

I leaned back against the seat, letting the tension ease just a little as the cold finally started to let go.

“Are you sure you want to continue this trip?” Zayn asked as he started the car and slowly made a U-turn out of the clearing.

I looked at him, really looked at him this time.

“Of course I’m sure. It’s my mother,” I said quietly. Then, after a beat, I added, “But if you want to back off—”

“I would never leave you, Rory,” he cut in without hesitation.

His voice was steady, certain. Like it wasn’t even a question in his mind.

Something in my chest loosened at that, warm in a way the car heater couldn’t touch. I looked out the window, watching the trees slide past as we drove, and nodded once, mostly to myself.

I pulled my phone out of my backpack, turning it on and watching the screen like it might magically change its mind. No signal. Still nothing.

I sighed and dropped it back into the bag, zipping it up with more force than necessary.

Zayn glanced over at me, probably catching the frustration on my face, and that was when the low fuel warning light blinked on.

He noticed it instantly and let out a quiet breath, eyes flicking down to the dashboard before returning to the road.

“I hope there’s a gas station nearby,” he murmured.

And there was.

After maybe fifteen minutes of driving down the empty, lonely road, a gas station finally came into view. It sat off to the side like it had been forgotten, the sign faded and slightly crooked, paint peeling from the small building beneath it. One of the lights flickered weakly, even though it was daytime, and the place looked mostly abandoned.

Zayn pulled over and shut off the engine. The sudden quiet felt too loud after the hum of the road.

“I’ll be quick,” he said as he opened the door. “Lock the doors, just in case.”

I nodded and watched him walk toward the pumps before locking the car like he told me. I stayed still, hands tucked into my sleeves, eyes following him as he filled the car. Everything about the place felt off—too quiet, too empty—but I told myself I was just tired.

After he finished, Zayn went inside to pay. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until he finally stepped back outside and headed toward the car. I relaxed only once he got in and shut the door behind him.

He started the engine, pulling back onto the road. We drove in silence for maybe a minute before he spoke.

“I didn’t like that guy.”

I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “What guy?”

“The gas station guy,” he said, eyes fixed on the road. “He kept looking at me weird. And he called someone as soon as I stepped outside.”

I frowned slightly. “Maybe you’re just paranoid,” I said gently. “Maybe he kept looking at you because we’re probably the first people he’s seen in a while?”

Zayn let out a short breath, his jaw tightening. “Paranoid or not,” he said, voice calm but firm, “after everything we’ve been through—when I get a bad feeling about someone, I’m usually right.”

“I didn’t say I don’t believe you,” I said slowly. “It’s just… we’re both exhausted. Maybe he’s just a regular guy.”

I tried to smile, tried to make it sound lighter than it felt, but the tension didn’t lift. Not even a little.

“We still have to be careful,” Zayn said quietly.

I nodded, my gaze drifting to the mirror above the dashboard without really thinking about it. The reflection caught my eyes, and my chest tightened.

God. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to them.

*** * ***

It had been two… maybe three hours. I’d lost track somewhere between the empty road and the sky slowly bleeding into darker shades. The light outside had thinned into that dusky blue that comes right before night fully settles in, and the headlights were doing more work than the sun ever could now.

I glanced at Zayn. He was still focused on the road, but I could tell—his shoulders were tense, his jaw set the way it got when he was pushing through exhaustion instead of admitting it.

Then the motel sign appeared.

One of those old ones, half-lit, the neon flickering like it hadn’t fully decided whether it wanted to stay alive or give up. The word MOTEL buzzed softly as we pulled closer, the place sitting alone off the road like it had been forgotten by time.

“That’ll do,” I said quietly.

Zayn nodded without hesitation and turned in.

The motel itself was… fine. Nothing special. One long, low building with doors facing the parking lot, faded paint, and a small office at the front with a dim light glowing inside. A couple of cars were parked nearby, but it was mostly quiet. Too quiet, maybe—but at this point, quiet felt like a gift.

Zayn parked and shut off the engine. The sudden silence made my ears ring for a second.

We got out, the cold immediately biting through my jacket. I shoved my hands into my pockets as we walked toward the office. Inside, it smelled faintly like old carpet and cheap cleaner. A tired-looking man sat behind the counter, barely glancing up at us.

“One room,” Zayn said. “Just for the night.”

The man slid a clipboard toward him, asked for an ID, didn’t ask any unnecessary questions. I liked that. A few seconds later, a key slid across the counter—actual metal, with a heavy plastic tag attached.

“Room twelve,” the man muttered.

We thanked him and stepped back outside.

Room twelve was near the end of the row. Zayn unlocked the door, and we stepped inside together. The room was small but warm, the heater already humming softly. Two beds, a little table, a TV bolted to the wall, and a bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been updated in decades—but it was clean. That was enough.

I dropped my backpack by the bed and exhaled, the kind of breath you don’t realize you’ve been holding until it finally leaves your body.