The Human Among Wolves Chapter 28

Zayn

Eventually, I swiped the screen and lifted the phone to my ear. My throat felt tight, the word catching on the way out.

“H-hello?”

I cursed myself instantly for the stammer, for letting him hear weakness in my voice.

“Took you long enough,” came the reply—low, smooth, and cutting as ever. Zade.

The sound of his voice dropped into my stomach like ice water. I sat frozen, waiting for him to continue, for some explanation, for the blow I knew was coming. But silence stretched, thick and deliberate, the kind he always used to make me speak first.

My tongue felt heavy, but I forced the words out. “Is… something wrong?”

A pause. Then, with a weight that made my pulse quicken: “Depends.”

Of course. Never a straight answer. I clenched my jaw, rolling my eyes at the ceiling even though he couldn’t see me. Every second he dragged it out was intentional—he wanted me uneasy, cornered, small. And yet, I knew better than to argue. I’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

I drew in a breath, keeping my tone as even as I could manage. “Depends on what?”

His voice sharpened, all the pretense of patience gone. “If Charlotte is still your mate.”

The words hit like a strike to the ribs. My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached.

Oh.

So that was it.

A bitter laugh almost escaped me, but it stuck in my throat. Of course. That bitch. She must’ve run straight to him—straight to *Father*—the moment I rejected her. Maybe she’d been planning it all along, waiting for me to slip. Maybe that sweet little act she always put on was just a mask, and the second I gave her an opening, she’d slipped the knife in my back.

She knew. She knew exactly what this would mean for me.

And she did it anyway.

“She called the King?” The question scraped out of me before I could stop it, low, almost a whisper. I pushed myself off the bed so quickly the springs groaned, pacing across the room because sitting still suddenly felt impossible.

On the other end of the line, Zade didn’t bother confirming or denying. He never did. Instead, his voice came quiet and cold as ice. “Answer the question, Zayn.”

My stomach twisted. I hated this—hated how we spoke like some strangers and not like brothers. But that’s how it had always been with him. Zade, the perfect heir, the oldest son. Me, the afterthought. Strangers who happened to share a name.

I clenched my jaw, forcing the word out even though every instinct screamed at me to keep it in. “No.”

Silence pressed down, thick and suffocating. My pulse thundered in my ears as I gripped the edge of my desk, knuckles burning white.

“Charlotte is no longer my mate,” I said finally.

The silence stretched. Stretched until it became unbearable, until I swore I could hear the faint sound of my own breath echoing back at me through the line. Waiting. Judging.

And still—Zade said nothing.

The line was so quiet, I started to wonder if he’d hung up. I almost pulled the phone away from my ear to check when his voice came through at last—low, deliberate, and colder than winter steel.

“I see.”

Two words. That was all. But they were heavy enough to sink me.

My grip on the desk tightened until my nails bit into the wood. “Zade…” I hated how unsteady my voice sounded, how small it felt next to his.

He ignored it, or maybe he just didn’t care. “You do understand what this means, don’t you?” His tone was calm, too calm, and that was worse than if he’d been shouting. “The King does not take kindly to… disobedience.”

A muscle in my jaw twitched. I swallowed hard, tasting something bitter. “It wasn’t disobedience,” I said, even though we both knew how hollow that sounded. “It was a choice. My choice.”

Another pause. I could almost picture him, sitting back in his chair, one hand pressed to his temple, that familiar expression of tired disappointment carved into his face.

“You’ve always been reckless, little brother,” he said finally, quiet but cutting. "But this time… you crossed the line."

I swallowed, my throat tight, heart hammering. “Zade… I—”

“No excuses,” he interrupted, the words clipped, sharp as blades. “I don’t care about your feelings. The King doesn’t either.”

I flinched. Of course. The King never did. He didn’t care about me, about any of us, except as pawns in his endless game.

“I made a choice,” I forced out, trying to keep my voice steady. “A choice I had to make.”

“You made a choice,” Zade repeated slowly, almost savoring the words, “and it has consequences. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” I said, tighter than I meant it. “I understand.”

“No, Zayn. I don’t think you understand,” Zade said, his voice low and deliberate, carrying that calm authority that always made my skin crawl. “But it doesn’t matter now. The damage… it’s already done. The king is coming”

Those words hit me like a physical blow. My chest tightened, and my stomach dropped. **The King. Coming. Here.**

“Wh-what do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Fear and disbelief tangled in my throat. I could feel my pulse hammering, my hands starting to tremble.

Zade’s tone didn’t soften. “At the Academy. He’s coming. He’s going to see you personally.”

My mind froze. Personal. Not a messenger, not an envoy, not some faceless enforcer like usual—**him**. The King himself. I could feel the weight of those words pressing down, heavier than the stones beneath my feet.

“For… for what? To lecture me?” I asked, my throat tight. Every instinct screamed that it wouldn’t just be a lecture. Nothing with him ever was.

Zade’s voice dropped, sharp and cutting, like a blade slicing through the air. “Not just a lecture. He’s going to get in your head, Zayn. Make you question everything you think you know. Make you… compliant. Or make you regret ever thinking you could defy him.”

I swallowed hard, my Adam’s apple bobbing, the words catching. My mind spun, racing through every possible scenario. Punishment. Exile. Worse. I couldn’t even picture what “worse” might mean.

“It’s never just a talk with him,” Zade said, like he could feel my panic creeping in. “It’s never only words. It’s a test, a challenge… a trap. And this time, little brother… you’re the one stuck in the middle of it.”

I felt the air leave my lungs for a moment, the world narrowing until all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. The Academy… the book… Charlotte… Raulf… none of it seemed real anymore. Nothing could prepare me for him walking through those gates, staring at me with those calculating eyes that always saw too much.

I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, my knuckles whitening, my voice trembling. “W-what… what am I supposed to do?”

Zade let out a slow, almost amused sigh. “Do? You survive. That’s all. You endure. Keep your head low, your instincts sharp, and whatever you do… don’t let him see fear. Because fear is weakness. And weakness, Zayn… is exactly what he preys on.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. My stomach churned, a mix of dread and defiance. I had never been good at hiding fear, and yet I knew I had no choice. Not this time.

“He’ll be here soon,” Zade added, his tone softer now, but no less dangerous. “Prepare yourself.”

And just like that, the line went dead.

I sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in my hand. Every muscle in my body was tense, my mind racing faster than I could follow. The King... coming to the Academy. Coming for me.