The Human Among Wolves Chapter 29

Aurora

I went straight to my dorm after talking to Zayn, shutting the door behind me a little harder than I meant to. For some reason I thought walking away from him would make me feel lighter, calmer. It didn’t. If anything, the knot in my chest just got tighter.

The girls were already there when I walked in, and of course they immediately bombarded me with questions. They always do. And, like always, I caved. I told them everything—about that strange woman, the child, the basement, and Zayn. Too many details that made no sense, too many questions I couldn’t even begin to answer. The more I said, the worse I felt, like I was digging myself into a hole instead of climbing out of one.

Eventually I just collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling while they went quiet around me. My head felt heavy, my body restless. I wanted answers so badly, but all I had were pieces that didn’t fit together.

My eyes drifted to my desk. The book sat there, waiting, dark and heavy, like it knew exactly how much space it was taking up in my thoughts. Zayn said he’d translate it tomorrow. Fine. Tomorrow. For now, it was just… there. Sitting. Watching.

And then there was the other problem—the locked room. We still had to figure out how to get inside, and the more I thought about it, the more impossible it felt. Two mysteries piled on top of each other, neither of them giving me anything.

I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket over my head. Answers had to be out there. They had to. But tonight, all I felt was tired and tangled up.

Eventually, I fell asleep.

At first, there was only silence and the sound of my own breath echoing back at me. Then—footsteps. Soft, deliberate, drawing closer on stone.

I was standing in a long corridor I didn’t recognize. The walls pulsed faintly with light, as if veins of gold ran through the stone. My fingertips brushed against it, warm—alive.

At the far end of the hall stood a door. Heavy. Ancient. I knew it without knowing how: if I opened it, I’d find answers. Maybe all of them.

But I couldn’t move.

A voice floated down the corridor, low and urgent. “Aurenya.”

The sound rooted me to the floor, my chest tightening. A woman’s voice—soft, melodic, but lined with fear. I tried to speak back, but no sound left my lips.

Then came a second voice. A child’s. “Hurry, they’re coming.”

Shadows stretched along the corridor walls, long arms reaching, twisting, dragging themselves closer. My pulse thundered. I tried to run toward the door, but my legs felt heavy, as if the floor had turned to tar.

The woman’s voice again, louder now: “Remember who you are.”

The shadows reached me. Cold fingers brushed my shoulder—

I woke with a gasp, heart racing.

The room was still dim and quiet except for Mira’s soft breathing. She mumbled something in her sleep and turned over, while Lira had practically buried herself under her blanket, just a tangle of hair sticking out. Selene had fallen asleep with a book balanced on her chest, the page crumpled where it pressed into her. Riven wasn't in the room, which was weird, but I brushed it off, thinking she probably had earlier classes than the rest of us.

I dragged myself out of bed, every movement slow and mechanical. Dressing was easier than thinking—uniform, boots, hair pulled back. When I glanced at the mirror above my desk, I almost wished I hadn’t. I looked like I hadn’t slept at all. Pale skin, shadowed eyes. Haunted, maybe.

And then there was the book. Sitting exactly where I’d left it, like it was watching me. A reminder of everything waiting for me—and of Zayn’s promise to translate it. Today after classes. That felt both too close and not soon enough.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and hesitated, just for a heartbeat, looking at the three of them curled up and breathing easy. They had no idea what was crawling around in my head. Lucky them.

The door creaked louder than I wanted as I slipped into the hall. The academy was already stirring—doors opening, footsteps echoing, voices humming low.

By the time I made it to my first class, the room was already buzzing with voices and the scrape of chairs against the floor. I slipped inside quietly, hugging the wall, and chose the far corner—the place no one ever bothered to look twice at. Safe. Or at least as safe as a classroom could feel.

The professor’s voice droned on at the front, words spilling into the air like water I couldn’t catch. Something about history, dates, treaties—I couldn’t have repeated a single sentence if my life depended on it. My pen hovered over the page of my notebook, not moving.

All I could think about was Zayn. More specifically, Zayn’s dorm, and the book waiting like a locked door between us. I kept running through it in my head—how I’d knock, how he’d probably scowl when he opened the door, how he’d mutter something sarcastic before actually sitting down to translate. I didn’t care about his attitude, not really. What mattered was the book. The answers. The truth clawing just out of reach.

My eyes flicked toward the window, sunlight slanting across the floor in sharp lines. I tapped my fingers against the desk, restless. Every minute in this room felt like a wasted eternity. The dream still pulsed faintly at the back of my mind—that woman’s eyes, that child’s hand, and the name. Always the name.

Aurenya.

I squeezed the pen until my knuckles whitened.

*** * ***

The rest of the classes dragged on forever, each tick of the clock stretching longer than the last. I tried—really tried—to listen, to keep my eyes on the chalkboard and my pen moving, but it was useless. Every word the professors spoke blurred into nothing, drowned out by the single thought thrumming in my chest: the book.

By the time the last class finally ended, I was out of my seat before the professor even dismissed us, shoving my things into my bag and slipping into the hall with my pulse racing. I didn’t care if I looked rude. I needed to move, needed to get out of there.

The corridor felt too long, the stairs too many, but I pushed through until I burst into my dorm. My roommates were still gone—thank the stars—and I darted straight for my desk. The book sat where I had left it, heavy and waiting, its leather cover dull in the late light seeping through the window. My hands lingered on it for a moment. Cold. Solid. Dangerous.

I tucked it into my bag as carefully as if it were made of glass, then slung the strap over my shoulder and left without another pause. My steps quickened the closer I got to Zayn’s dorm, anticipation and nerves twisting together inside me.

Finally, I stopped at his door. For a second, I just stood there, staring at the wood as if it might stare back. My stomach knotted, but I forced my hand to knock.

The sound echoed faintly down the hall, then footsteps approached from inside. The door creaked open—

And I froze.

Because it wasn’t Zayn.

The man standing in the doorway was taller and broader, his presence filling the frame like he belonged there. His shoulders cut sharp lines beneath a fitted black shirt, his chest rising and falling slow and steady, and his arms… gods, they looked like they could snap a person in half without effort. But it was his face that stopped me cold.

Dark hair, thick and tousled, framed features that were all edges—a strong jaw, high cheekbones, a mouth curved not into a smile, but something unreadable. And his eyes—black, endless, and piercing—locked onto me with a weight that made my breath stutter.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even form a word. My hand still hovered near the doorframe, useless, while my brain scrambled to make sense of who the hell this was and why he was answering Zayn’s door.