The Human Among Wolves Chapter 26

Aurora

The room felt suddenly smaller, the silence between us heavier than stone.

“Who?” I asked, almost whispering.

His throat worked as he swallowed. “She called them by name.” He hesitated, then finally let the word fall, quiet but sharp enough to cut through me. “Aurenya.”

The world seemed to stop. My chest tightened, my heart slamming once – twice – then halting, suspended in the space between beats.

Aurenya.

That name. I knew that name. It was the name from my dreams.

“And the woman?” My voice shook as I cut him off, urgency scraping my throat raw. “What was she saying? Tell me exactly what you heard.”

“She said…” His voice faltered, and he pressed his fingers against his temple, eyes closing as though he were digging the words up from somewhere buried. “She said that she loved her very much. That she was sorry… so, so sorry.”

My chest tightened. I leaned forward without realizing it.

He drew in a slow breath, opening his eyes again, though they seemed distant, glassed over. “And then she said something else. She said that no matter what happens, she will find her. Those were her words. Not a promise… a vow.” His gaze shifted to me then, sharp and almost accusing.

My throat worked. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? I could have—”

He cut across my words, his tone edged. “Maybe because you told me you didn’t need my help. Or maybe because…” His jaw flexed, and he glanced away. “I don’t even know if that woman, or the child she spoke of, has anything to do with this.”

The silence between us grew heavy, pressing down until I had to break it. I exhaled, the sound trembling. “What happened next?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His hand dragged through his hair, the gesture restless, like he hated what he was about to admit.

“Nothing,” he said finally, voice rough. “I heard footsteps in the hall. Heavy ones. Guards, probably. I panicked and ran back to my room before they could see me standing there.”

I stared at him, waiting, needing more, but he only shook his head, the shadows deepening on his face.

“I don’t know what happened to her after that,” he went on quietly. “Or to that… little girl she kept calling to. I never heard the woman’s voice again. Not once. And the screams—" He broke off, swallowing hard. “The screams stopped too.”

Stopped. Not faded. Not silenced by mercy. Just… cut off.

My stomach knotted, twisting itself into something sharp and unbearable.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted iron. My thoughts turned over themselves, wild and frantic. What if that child – what if Aurenya was...me?

No. It couldn’t be. I was Aurora. Aurora, the girl who’d been found on a bridge with no past. Aurora, who’d been given a family, a name, and a place in the world. That was who I was. Wasn’t it?

But the dreams. The voice calling through the mist. The name that had chased me across sleep for weeks.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “I was found when I was ten. I had no memories before that. None. Just my name.”

"I know."

“Do you think I’m her?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, raw and trembling. “Do you think I’m Aurenya?”

The air between us shifted. Zayn froze, his shoulders going rigid, his jaw tightening as though I’d just dropped something impossible in his lap. His eyes searched mine—sharp, restless—like he was rifling through my thoughts, desperate to see if I was serious or if I even understood the weight of what I was asking.

Seconds dragged. My heart was so loud in my chest it felt like it belonged to the silence.

Finally, he exhaled, long and slow, like he’d been holding the breath for years. He raked a hand through his hair, his voice low when it finally came. “I… don’t know.”

He leaned back, staring past me as though the shelves behind my head held answers he could never reach. “Honestly, Aurora, I don’t. I don’t even know who that woman really was, the one in the basement. I don’t know why the king kept her there or what they were doing to her.” His throat worked, and his gaze flickered back to me, hard and haunted. “I don’t know who that child was either—the one she kept calling for. Or if she even survived. And even if you were that child, why would King let you live? ”

His hands curled into fists against his arms, tension roping through him. “I know nothing,” he repeated, harsher this time, like the words cut him as much as they did me.

But the way his eyes lingered on me, unblinking, told me he wasn’t as sure of that as he wanted to be.

I nodded, but the motion felt empty. His words gave me nothing solid to hold on to, and yet… what else could I expect? The truth was, neither of us had answers—only fragments and shadows.

I drew in a shaky breath, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Whatever I am,” I whispered, “it’s starting to wake something inside me. Something I can’t control.” My fingers curled into the fabric of my sleeve, holding on like it could anchor me. “My dreams… they aren’t just dreams anymore. They’re sharper and heavier. It’s like they’re trying to pull me toward something. And the more I fight it, the stronger it gets.”

I paused, biting the inside of my cheek. “We need to go back to that room. The one with the book. We have to open it.” My voice grew firmer with every word, conviction replacing hesitation. “Whatever lies inside those pages… it’s connected to me. To us. I know it. And if we find the truth, then maybe… maybe I’ll finally understand what’s happening to me.”

Zayn’s jaw shifted, like he wanted to argue, but I pressed on.

“And the book we found in the tower,” I said, lowering my voice, “you’ll translate it. You have to. Something is telling me that the spell we need is in there.”

“So finally, you need my help?” His mouth curved into that infuriating half-smirk, the one that always made it hard to tell whether he was mocking me or testing me.

Of course. It couldn’t go without a sarcastic comment.

I rolled my eyes, heat crawling into my voice. “Get over yourself. As I’ve told you before—we’re not friends. You’ll help me with this one thing and then we’re done.” I paused, then added, sharper than I intended, “And I’d ask just one favor: keep your girl away from me.”

That wiped the smirk off his face. He tilted his head, studying me, and then said flatly, “You mean Charlotte?”

“Yes.”

“She’s not my girl anymore.” His tone was even, but there was something buried beneath it, something almost bitter. “I rejected her.”

The words made me blink. “Rejected?” I echoed, frowning. “I didn’t know werewolves could do that.”

“They can,” he said, leaning back slightly, his gaze steady on me. “If both sides agree.”

My eyebrow arched, skeptical. “And she agreed? Just like that? From what I’ve seen, she seemed far too… attached to you for it to be that simple.”

Something flickered across his face—an expression so quick I almost missed it. Annoyance? Frustration? Anger? I couldn’t tell.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he cut in abruptly, voice low and edged.