The Human Among Wolves Chapter 25

Aurora

I hesitated, biting the inside of my cheek. The question pressed at me, insistent. “You said your father… he kept secrets like this too?"

Zayn’s jaw flexed, and for a moment, his posture stiffened. He didn’t answer immediately. I could almost hear the weight of memories clicking into place behind his eyes.

“He… yes,” he said finally, voice low, rough with something he wasn’t ready to name. “He believed knowledge was power. Dangerous knowledge. He kept things hidden, even from me. Even when I should have known.”

He looked at me for a long moment, as if weighing whether the truth was worth speaking aloud. His hand raked through his hair, a sharp exhale escaping him.

“Listen, King,” he began, voice low, rough at the edges. “My father… he has three other sons besides me. I’m the youngest. And when you’re the youngest, you live in the shadows. No one tells you anything. You’re expected to keep quiet, obey, and stay small.” His eyes flicked to mine, then away, like he couldn’t hold my gaze for too long. “But I could still hear things. Things I wasn’t supposed to.”

A chill slid down my spine. “Things?” I prompted, my voice barely more than a whisper.

His mouth pressed into a hard line before he spoke again. “The castle I grew up in – it was enormous. Bigger than you can picture. Endless corridors, rooms that stayed locked no matter how many times you tried the handle. And then there was the basement.” He hesitated. “No one was allowed down there. Ever. Not even my brothers. It was off-limits to everyone but the king and his closest men.”

The way he said 'the king' made my stomach twist. He rarely called him father.

Zayn’s voice dropped, steadier now but threaded with something darker. “I was maybe two, maybe three. Old enough to know the word *forbidden*, but too young to care what it meant. And like any child who’s told no… I wanted to know why.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “One night, after the castle went quiet, I slipped out of my bed. I waited until the guards changed shifts, until their footsteps faded. And then… I stole the keys.”

My breath caught. “And you went inside.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “I did. The air in that basement was cold—damp, like the walls themselves were rotting. I remember the way the torches flickered, how the shadows seemed… wrong.” His voice faltered, and for the first time, I saw something flicker across his expression—hesitation. Fear.

“What did you see?” I whispered, even though part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

His gaze lifted, meeting mine. There was no guard in his eyes now, no mask. Just the memory.

“In the center of the room,” he said slowly, “there was a table. And on it… a woman.” He paused, his throat working as if the words scraped going down. “She was bound. Tubes were stuck in her body—everywhere. Feeding into her, draining from her. I don’t know which. Her skin was pale, too pale, and her stomach…”

He dragged in a breath through his teeth. “She was pregnant. Six, maybe seven months. She didn’t move. Didn’t open her eyes. I thought she was dead at first… but I think she was just unconscious.”

My stomach turned cold, my throat tight. “Gods…”

Zayn looked away, shaking his head slowly. “I didn’t stay. I couldn’t. I ran out of there, back to my room, and swore I’d never go near the basement again.” His voice dropped, softer now, but every word sank into me like stone. “But after that night, I started hearing them. Screams. Echoing up from the floor. Always at night. Always from below.”

The silence that followed was heavier than his confession.

“And you never told anyone?” I asked, my voice trembling despite me.

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “If I had, I wouldn’t be standing here. The king would have made sure of that.”

“But what does that have to do with all of this?” I asked, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. My teeth sank into my lip, hard enough that I tasted blood, copper and bitter on my tongue.

Zayn’s gaze dropped to the floor. His hands flexed at his sides, restless, like he was holding something inside that wanted to tear its way out.

“Because…” He drew in a ragged breath, shoulders tightening as if bracing himself. “It must have been – seven, maybe eight years since that first night. I tried to forget. I wanted to forget. The screams became less frequent, or maybe I just learned to stop listening.” His voice grew quieter, almost hollow. “But then I was eleven. And that day…” He hesitated, closing his eyes briefly before continuing. “That day, the King was gone. Away from the castle, dealing with some business I wasn’t told about. The halls felt… empty. Too quiet. I was restless, wandering without purpose. And before I knew it—" he looked up at me, the shadow in his eyes deepening. “I was standing in front of the basement door again.”

A chill slid down my spine, prickling the hairs on my arms.

“Memories hit me like a storm,” he murmured. “The cold of that room, the way she looked on that table… I swore I wouldn’t open it again, but I couldn’t make myself leave either. I pressed my hand to the door, just to feel the weight of it.” He exhaled through his teeth. “Of course it was locked. Always locked. I almost walked away.”

His gaze flicked to me, then away again, sharper now, like he was reliving it in front of me. “But then—I heard something.”

I held still, afraid even to breathe. “Something?”

“A voice,” he said, softer now, like the word itself carried its own echo. “A woman’s voice. Gentle. Too gentle for that place. It drifted through the door like a lullaby, faint but clear. She wasn’t screaming. She was speaking. Speaking to someone else.”