The Human Among Wolves Chapter 168

Cecilia

The forest seems to be holding its breath along with us. I can feel the tension humming through the air, skittering over my skin like static. My grip tightens on the frostbloom without me meaning it to. The blade hangs loose at my side—not raised, not hidden. Honest.

Theron’s eyes drop to it anyway.

“You won’t win,” he says calmly. Not a threat. A fact. “Not if you try.”

“I didn’t come here to fight,” I answer. “And I don’t intend to start now.”

He huffs out a quiet, almost-laugh.

“Witches always say that.”

“And wolves always assume the worst,” I shoot back.

That earns me a sharper look. His gaze rakes over me openly now—taking in my stance, the way my weight is balanced on the balls of my feet, the way the air bends just slightly around my shoulders. He sees it. He’d have to be blind not to.

“All four,” he murmurs before he seems to realize he’s spoken aloud.

I stiffen. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His mouth curves, slow and knowing. “I know exactly what I’m looking at.”

For a moment, irritation flares hot and bright in my chest—fire reacting to being seen. I tamp it down quickly, letting water smooth it out, letting earth settle my spine. I will not lose control here. Not in front of him.

“I’m leaving,” I say, shifting my weight back a step. “I have what I came for.”

Theron mirrors the movement instantly, blocking the narrow path behind me without even seeming to try. It’s infuriating how effortless it is.

“No,” he says. “You’re not.”

My jaw tightens. “You just said it yourself. I can’t win.”

His eyes flash. “That doesn’t mean I’ll let you walk out of my territory with something you took.”

“I didn’t steal it,” I snap. “The plant grows wild. It doesn’t belong to you.”

“It grows on my land,” he counters. “That makes it mine.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose.

“Then your land is going to be responsible for what happens when my coven runs out of ward tonics.”

He tilts his head slightly. “That’s not my problem.”

“It becomes your problem when the wards fail,” I say quietly. “When whatever you think those wards are keeping out starts wandering closer to your borders.”

That gives him pause. Just a fraction of a second—but I see it. I always see it. Earth doesn’t lie. Air carries truth whether people want it to or not.

“You’re lying,” he says, though there’s less certainty in his voice now.

“I don’t need to,” I reply. “And I don’t bluff.”

Silence stretches again. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a branch creaks. A bird startles and then goes still.

Theron exhales, sharp and controlled. “You could have sent an emissary.”

“We did,” I say. “Three winters ago. Your people chased her back bleeding.”

His expression darkens. “Then she crossed farther than she should have.”

“Like I did,” I say evenly.

He doesn’t deny it.

For a long moment, he just watches me. Close enough now that I can see the faint scars across his knuckles, the tension coiled in his shoulders like he’s perpetually braced for a fight. He smells like pine and iron and something wild beneath it all.

“You’re reckless,” he says finally.

“Coming from a man who shifts naked in front of strangers?” I arch a brow.

That does it.

A sharp, surprised laugh breaks from him before he can stop it. It’s brief—gone almost as soon as it appears—but it changes something. The edge dulls, just slightly.

“Watch your mouth, witch,” he says, though there’s a glint of something almost amused in his eyes now.

“Then watch your borders,” I return.

Another pause.

Then, abruptly, he steps aside.

The path behind him opens.

“You have until sundown,” he says. “Be gone from the eastern woods by then.”

I blink, genuinely caught off guard. “That’s it?”

“Don’t mistake mercy for weakness,” he warns. “If I see you here again without permission, I won’t be this generous.”

I nod once. “Understood.”

I take one step back. Then another. I don’t turn my back on him—not until the trees thicken between us and I’m sure he’s not following.

Only then do I let myself breathe.

The walk back feels longer.

Every sound makes me tense. Every shift of shadow draws my attention. I keep my magic close, coiled and ready, but nothing else comes for me. No wolves. No warnings. Just the steady rhythm of my boots against the forest floor.

By the time the northern woods welcome me back, the sun is already tilting west.

Seraphina is waiting when I return, eyes sharp, relief poorly hidden behind irritation.

“You’re late,” she says.

“I got delayed,” I reply, holding up the frostbloom.

She exhales and pulls me into a brief, tight embrace before stepping back. “You’re lucky.”

“I know.”

As night settles over the coven and the frostbloom is secured, I find myself staring east more than once.

Silver eyes.

Black fur.

A prince who looked at me like I was both a threat and a puzzle.

I tell myself it means nothing.

The woods, however, feel different now.

And somewhere deep within them, I know Theron is thinking about me too.

I try to shake the feeling as the night settles fully around the coven, but it clings to me like smoke.

The fire pit crackles softly as Seraphina and the others work with the frostbloom, crushing petals, murmuring incantations, sealing the day’s panic away behind routine. I sit a little apart from them, back against the rough bark of an old pine, watching the sparks drift upward into the dark. Normally, this is where I feel most at ease. The woods hum in quiet recognition. The balance inside me steadies.

Tonight, it doesn’t.

My thoughts keep pulling east, as if something there has tied a thin thread around my ribs and is tugging—gently, insistently.

I close my eyes and try to center myself. Fire settles. Water cools. Earth grounds. Air clears.

Still, silver eyes stare back at me from the darkness behind my lids.

A lycan prince.

Not just any wolf. I’ve crossed paths with wolves before—territorial, dangerous, predictable in their hatred. Theron was different. Controlled. Sharp. The kind of power that doesn’t need to announce itself because it knows the world will bend eventually.

And worse—he saw me.

Not just me, but what I am.

“All four,” I murmur under my breath.

Seraphina’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You’re unusually quiet.

I open my eyes and look at her across the fire. “Long day.”

She studies me, gaze narrowing slightly.

“Did something happen out there?”

I consider lying. It would be easier. Safer. But Seraphina has never liked half-truths, and I’ve never been good at them.

“I ran into a wolf,” I say carefully. “A prince.”

That gets everyone’s attention.

“The eastern pack?” one of the elders asks.

“Yes.”

“And you’re standing here because…?” Seraphina prompts.

“Because he let me go.”

Silence follows. Heavy. Unsettled.

“They don’t show mercy,” someone mutters.

“I don’t think it was mercy,” I say slowly. “I think it was… curiosity.”

That earns me a few uneasy looks.

“Curiosity can be more dangerous than hatred,” Seraphina says.

“I know.”

The meeting dissolves not long after, the urgency gone now that the frostbloom is secured and the wards reinforced. One by one, the coven members retreat to their huts. The forest grows quieter, the kind of quiet that stretches instead of settles.

I remain by the dying fire long after the others leave.

The flames shrink, embers glowing red beneath ash. I trace slow patterns in the dirt with my fingers, grounding myself, letting earth pull my thoughts downward. It helps—but not enough.

Because somewhere beyond the trees, beyond borders and old blood-feuds, Theron is awake.

I know it with the same certainty I know the elements. The same instinct that warned me before he ever spoke.

Enemies, he had said without saying it. Wolves and witches. The way things are supposed to be.

Yet the air had shifted between us. Just slightly. Enough to matter.

I rise at last and turn toward my hut, the cold night brushing my skin. As I step inside and close the door behind me, I press a hand to my chest, feeling the steady rhythm of my heart.

Balance has always been my strength.

But balance can be disrupted.

And for the first time in a very long while, I suspect that the eastern woods have just tilted something out of alignment.

Whatever this is—between a full elemental witch and a lycan prince—it has already begun.

And I know, deep in my bones, that this was not our last meeting.