The Human Among Wolves Chapter 157

Aurora

The room slowly settled into a quiet rhythm once the door clicked shut behind us.

Zayn dropped his keys onto the small table by the wall while I shrugged out of my jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair. The heater hummed steadily, filling the space with dry warmth that made my shoulders loosen without me even realizing how tight they’d been. It felt strange—being somewhere normal after everything. Too normal, almost.

“I’m gonna shower,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Before I fall asleep standing.”

“Go ahead,” he replied, already digging through his backpack. “I’ll heat the food.”

The bathroom was small, cramped, but clean enough. The water took a while to warm, hissing and sputtering before finally settling. I stood under it longer than necessary, letting the heat sink into my skin, my mind drifting even as my body relaxed. For a few minutes, the world shrank to the sound of water and steam, and I let myself pretend that we weren’t being hunted by secrets and bloodlines and people who knew too much.

When I came back out, hair damp and skin warm, the room smelled faintly of herbs and bread. Zayn had laid everything out neatly on the little table—wrapped portions of food Marcelline had prepared for us, still surprisingly fresh.

We ate quietly, sitting on opposite beds, trading glances now and then but not pushing conversation. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just tired. Bone-deep tired.

Afterward, we both brushed our teeth, double-checked the locks, and set our backpacks close to the door without really discussing why. Habit, maybe. Or instinct.

I changed into a hoodie and leggings and slid under the blanket. The mattress dipped as Zayn lay down on the other bed, the springs creaking softly. The lights went out, leaving only the faint glow from the parking lot slipping in through the curtains.

“Good night,” I murmured.

“Night, Rory.”

Sleep crept in quietly.

I don’t know how long I’d been out when something shifted.

Not a sound at first—just the feeling of being pulled up from deep water. Then I heard it.

The door handle moved.

I froze.

From the other bed, Zayn sat up instantly. He didn’t say my name. Didn’t move fast. He just whispered, barely louder than breath, “Aurora.”

My heart started racing.

The handle turned again. Slow. Careful.

Zayn crossed the space between the beds in two silent steps and crouched beside me. He pressed a finger to his lips, eyes sharp, focused.

Then the handle jerked harder.

A dull thud followed, like someone leaning their weight into the door.

My stomach dropped.

Zayn leaned close. “Bathroom. Window.”

I nodded.

We moved at the same time. Shoes. Jackets. Backpacks. Every sound felt amplified—the zip of fabric, the scrape of a sole against the floor. My hands shook as I shoved my things inside my bag.

The door rattled again. Harder this time.

We slipped into the bathroom and locked the door just as something hit the other side of it. The thin wall didn’t muffle much. I could hear breathing. Movement.

Zayn climbed onto the toilet seat and pushed the small window open inch by inch, fighting the squeal of old hinges. Cold air rushed in.

“You first,” he whispered.

I didn’t argue. I climbed up and slid out, dropping to the ground with a soft thud that felt way too loud. Zayn followed seconds later, landing beside me.

We ran.

Gravel bit into my shoes as we crossed the lot. The motel lights buzzed overhead, flickering like they might die any second. Zayn unlocked the car, shoved me inside, and jumped in after me, slamming the door shut.

The engine roared to life.

As we pulled away, I twisted in my seat and looked back.

Our room door was closed.

No one stood outside it.

No shadow. No movement.

That scared me more than if someone had been there.

Zayn didn’t slow down. He didn’t speak. He just kept driving, eyes fixed on the road as the motel disappeared behind us, swallowed by the dark.

Whatever had been at that door…

we weren’t waiting to find out who it was.

We stayed quiet for a long time after that. The road stretched ahead of us, empty and dark, the headlights cutting a narrow tunnel through the night. The engine’s hum was steady, almost hypnotic, but my body was still tight with adrenaline. My hands hadn’t stopped shaking yet.

I don’t know how much time passed. Thirty minutes, maybe. It felt both longer and shorter than that.

I glanced at Zayn. His jaw was clenched, eyes locked on the road, shoulders tense like he was bracing for something to jump out of the dark.

“Who do you think that was?” I asked quietly, breaking the silence.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, then relaxed again.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it I recognized. “But if I had to guess… it’s got something to do with the gas station.”

My stomach sank. “The guy there?”

Zayn nodded once. “Yeah. The way he looked at me. The call he made as soon as I stepped outside.” He exhaled through his nose. “It didn’t feel random.”

I stared out the window, watching the trees blur past. “So you think he told someone.”

“I think he told the wrong someone,” Zayn said.

My chest tightened. I didn’t want to say it, but the thought was already there, heavy and unavoidable.

“Your father?” I asked.

Zayn didn’t look at me, but his silence was answer enough.

“Either him,” he said slowly, “or someone connected to him.”

The word connected sat badly with me. Too vague. Too open.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how cold the car felt despite the heat blasting from the vents. “But how would he know it was us?” I asked. “I mean… we didn’t give names. We didn’t—”

“He didn’t need names,” Zayn cut in gently. “Not if he already knew what to look for.”

I swallowed. My reflection stared back at me from the dark window—pale face, glowing eyes I still wasn’t used to. Even dimmed by the night, they weren’t exactly subtle.

“Great,” I muttered. “So my eyes are basically a walking red flag now.”

Zayn shot me a quick look. “Hey.”

I turned toward him.

“This isn’t your fault,” he said firmly. “None of this is.”

“I know,” I said, though the words didn’t fully land. “It just feels like the moment we stop moving, someone finds us.”

“That’s why we don’t stop,” he replied. Simple. Certain.

I nodded, letting the silence settle again. The road curved gently, pulling us farther away from the motel, farther from whatever had been behind that door.

After a moment, I said, “Do you think they’ll keep following us?”

Zayn’s grip tightened again. “I think they’ll try.”

The honesty in his voice scared me more than false reassurance would have.

“But,” he added, softer now, “they’re already behind us.”

I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes for just a second, listening to the engine, to Zayn’s breathing, to the night rushing past.

Whatever had started back there, it was clear now.

We weren’t just traveling east anymore.

We were running.