The Human Among Wolves Chapter 27

Zayn

Aurora crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing just enough to make it clear she wasn’t backing off. “You don’t have to be so defensive,” she said, her voice calmer now, but with an edge that cut straight through me. “It was just a question.”

Just a question.

That’s what she thought.

I clenched my jaw, staring at her. She couldn’t possibly understand. My father had chained me to Charlotte the way a man chains a dog to a post—iron, unyielding, humiliating. I’d never had a choice. Never had a say. I was the Lycan Prince, but in that moment, I might as well have been a pawn on his board.

And Charlotte… she’d accepted it. Of course she had. She wanted the power, the name, and the bond. She wanted me—just not in the way that mattered. I was a prize, not a person.

So yes, I’d rejected her. I’d spoken the words, carved the bond apart with my voice. And she had accepted them, her tears falling but her mouth repeating the ritual all the same. But acceptance didn’t mean it was over. I could still feel it in my bones, like a storm building far out at sea, waiting to make landfall. She wouldn’t let me go. Not really.

And now Aurora—Aurora of all people—was pressing me about it.

I raked a hand through my hair, trying to keep my voice from snapping. “You think it’s that simple? That rejection ends it clean? My father might have forced me into it, but Charlotte…” I shook my head, bitterness curling in my chest. “She doesn’t give up. Not when it comes to me. Not when it comes to power.”

I glanced at Aurora then, and something about the way she looked at me—steady, unflinching—unnerved me. She wasn’t prying to hurt me. She was trying to understand.

Still, I couldn’t let her in. Not all the way.

“It doesn’t matter,” I muttered, my tone harsher than I meant. “Just… drop it.”

"What do you mean, your father forced you to?” Aurora’s voice was quiet, but there was steel under it, the kind that always made me feel like she saw more than I wanted her to.

I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste blood. The truth was boiling on my tongue, pressing to get out, but I swallowed it back. If I let it slip, if I told her everything, there’d be no taking it back.

Why did she care anyway? As she’d so graciously reminded me earlier—we weren’t friends. She didn’t trust me and didn’t even like me most days. So why did her eyes look so damn intent now? Why was she pushing past walls I’d spent years building?

I forced a laugh, low and bitter. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden, Aurora? Thought you made it clear you didn’t want to know me.”

But she didn’t flinch. She just kept staring, calm but relentless. That was the thing about her—she didn’t have to raise her voice to make me feel cornered.

I dragged a hand down my face, the weight of memory pressing on me like chains. My father’s voice, the Alpha command that left no room for disobedience, Charlotte’s expectant eyes… the whole twisted ritual of it. I’d never wanted her. Not then. Not ever. And yet I’d been bound to her by my father, the King.

“It wasn’t my choice,” I muttered at last, the words slipping before I could stop them. “None of it was. My father wanted it, so it happened. That’s how it works in his world. In his pack.”

She looked at me, opening her mouth like she wanted to say something more, but I interrupted her.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended, “you can leave my dorm and head to your own. We’ll start on translating that book tomorrow.”

For a heartbeat she just stood there, still, like she was deciding whether to argue or ignore me. Her eyes caught mine, and there was something in them—questions she hadn’t asked yet, words she’d bitten back. She wanted to push, I could tell. She always wanted to push. But this time… she didn’t.

Aurora gave the smallest nod, sharp and restrained, like she was locking her curiosity away for later. Then she turned, her long brown hair swaying lightly as she crossed the room. Her hand hovered over the doorknob for a second, almost like she was giving me one last chance to say something more, to let her in. I said nothing.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence that followed was deafening.

I dragged in a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, then let it out in one long exhale. My body felt heavy all at once, weighted with memories I didn’t want. I collapsed back onto the bed, the springs groaning under me. My arm flung over my eyes, trying to block out everything—her questions, my father’s voice, and Charlotte’s face.

My thoughts scattered when the sharp buzz of my phone cut through the quiet. I groaned under my breath and reached blindly for it on the nightstand, ready to ignore whoever thought now was a good time. The screen lit up in my hand, and the second I saw the name flashing there, everything inside me stopped.

Zade.

My oldest brother.

For a moment, I just stared at the caller ID, my thumb hovering over the screen but not moving. Zade never called me. Not once. Not for birthdays, not for holidays, not even when I… screwed up bad enough that Father dragged me through the mud for it. If Zade wanted something, he usually sent someone else to deal with me. That was how it had always been.

So why now? Why this?

A cold rush went through me, leaving my hands clammy. I shot upright in bed so fast the mattress creaked under the sudden movement, my pulse hammering in my throat. My chest felt tight, like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t, except I hadn’t done anything. Not yet.

Still… I knew better. Zade’s name on that screen couldn’t mean anything good.

My thumb hovered over the screen, the little green circle glowing like a trap.

Answer. Don’t answer.

The phone kept vibrating in my palm, steady and relentless, the sound drilling into the quiet of the room. My heart was beating so hard it almost drowned it out, but not enough. Never enough.

Zade.

The name alone was enough to drag me backward—to childhood hallways where his shadow stretched longer than mine, to his voice snapping orders, to fists clenched just tight enough to remind me where I stood. The eldest son. The one the king trusted most. The one who knew exactly how to make me feel small.

He never called. Not when I bled in training. Not when Father dragged me in front of the court to humiliate me. Not when I nearly lost control for the first time.

So why now?

The screen kept buzzing in my hand, the light flashing, demanding. I swallowed hard, a bitter taste in my mouth, and suddenly I hated how clammy my palms felt. I hated that a single call from him could make me feel like I was ten years old again, standing in that damned castle, waiting for punishment.