The Human Among Wolves Chapter 50

Aurora

I didn’t wait for them to say anything. I grabbed my bag from the chair and stormed out of the restaurant, my boots striking the floor too loudly, drawing more attention, but I didn’t care. The cold air outside hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I just stood there on the sidewalk, breathing hard, trying to keep it together.

I had planned this whole conversation in my head. I was going to sit them down and tell them everything—about accidentally ending up at a school that was for werewolves, lycans, and what else not. About the book that had my name on it and how its pages were locked away like secrets waiting to be uncovered, about the dreams that left me waking up shaking and breathless. I would tell them everything.

But now?

Now I couldn’t.

If they could hide something as big as my name, what else were they keeping from me? What else had they chosen not to say because they thought it was “for my own good”?

I leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant, fingers gripping my bag strap until my knuckles ached. My chest was so tight I could barely breathe. For years, they had been my safe place. My parents. My family. But now every memory felt tainted, every laugh, every hug layered over with the question—was it ever real?

The door opened behind me, and I heard my mother’s soft voice call my name, “Aurora—”

“Don’t,” I snapped, without turning around. My voice shook, but I forced it out. “Don’t say anything right now. Just… don’t.”

I started walking before she could reply, heading toward the car, toward anywhere but here. I didn’t want their apologies. I didn’t want their explanations. Not now. Not when everything inside me was screaming.

If I told them about the academy, about the book, about what I might actually be… they’d just twist it into something it wasn’t. They’d tell me what to think and how to feel, just like they always had.

No. This—all of this—was mine now. My name. My truth. My search for answers.

I would figure out who Aurenya really was.

But I’d do it on my own.

I yanked the passenger door open and slid in, slamming it shut harder than I meant to.

“Drive me back,” I said flatly.

My mom followed me out of the restaurant, stopping just short of the car. “Aurora—”

“I said drive me back.” This time my voice cracked, not from anger but from exhaustion. I just wanted to go home—to the academy, to my dorm, to anywhere that wasn’t here.

Mom hesitated, but Dad didn’t. He entered the car and started the engine without a word. She climbed into the back seat silently, and for the first few minutes, no one said a thing. The tension in the car was thick enough to choke on, every tick of the turn signal sounding louder than it should.

I stared out the window, watching the city pass in a blur. My reflection in the glass looked like a stranger—pale, drawn, hollow-eyed. I hated that they could see me like this, hated that they could probably guess what I was thinking.

“Sweetheart,” Mom finally said softly from the back seat, like she was afraid to scare me off again.

I didn’t turn around. “Don’t,” I said quietly, my throat tight. “Not right now.”

And just like that, silence returned, heavier than before.

By the time we reached the academy gates, my chest felt like it was going to crack open from everything I was holding in. The moment the car stopped, I grabbed my bag and opened the door.

“Aurora—” Mom tried again.

I didn’t look back. “Thanks for the ride.”

Then I shut the door and walked away, fast, before they could say anything else, before the part of me that still loved them so much would make me turn around and forgive them right there.

I didn’t stop walking until I was through the gates, until the academy swallowed me up and I could breathe again—even if that breath felt sharp and broken.

*** * ***

The moment I stepped into my dorm room and shut the door behind me, the weight I’d been carrying all afternoon finally broke me.

At first, it was just one tear slipping hot and slow down my cheek. Then another. And then it was like a dam had burst—they came faster, until I couldn’t stop them if I tried.

The silence of the room made everything louder. The sound of my breathing, sharp and uneven. The wetness of tears sliding down my skin. The thud of my bag hitting the floor as I let it drop from my shoulder.

I didn’t bother to kick off my shoes or change my clothes. I just collapsed face-first onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow, and for a long time I just… let it out.

But these weren’t quiet, broken tears of sadness.

They were hot, furious tears—the kind that burned.

I wasn’t just hurt. I was angry.

Angry at my parents for keeping this from me for so long, angry that they thought they knew what was best for me, angry that they could look me in the eye for years and never tell me the truth about who I was.

Angry at myself, too—for trusting them so blindly, for not asking more questions, for wanting so badly to belong that I never once considered I might not.

I bit down hard on the pillow, a strangled scream tearing out of me. It didn’t help. My chest still felt too tight, like my heart had grown claws and was scraping against my ribs.

I wanted to scream until my throat gave out, until there was nothing left in me but silence. I wanted to shatter something—the lamp on my nightstand, the mirror across the room, the whole damn world if I could.

But instead, I just stayed there, letting the tears soak into the pillow, fists clenched at my sides, trembling from the sheer force of everything boiling inside me.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that—face buried in my pillow, tears soaking through the fabric, body shaking until there was nothing left in me but the hollow ache that always came after.

Eventually, I forced myself to lift my head, my neck stiff and sore. The clock on the wall read 7:13 p.m.

I blinked at it, dazed. Had I really been lying here for hours?

The dorm was still quiet, my roommates still gone, but any minute now they’d be back—laughing, chattering about their shopping spree, comparing what they’d bought. I could already picture them bursting through the door, filling the space with perfume and noise and questions.

The thought made my chest tighten all over again.

I couldn’t deal with that right now.

I couldn’t sit here and paste on a fake smile and pretend I wasn’t falling apart. I couldn’t let them see me like this, red-eyed and raw.

So I did something I knew was reckless, maybe even stupid.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, my body feeling strangely weightless, like I was moving on autopilot. I grabbed my jacket, pulled it on, and scrubbed at my face with the sleeves until the worst of the tears were gone.

I didn’t bother to fix my hair, didn’t check the mirror to see if I still looked like a disaster. I didn’t care.

All I knew was that I had to get out.

Before I could second-guess myself, I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, my footsteps echoing in the quiet.

I didn’t know exactly why I was doing it, or what I planned to say when I got there, but my feet carried me anyway—down the stairs, across the courtyard, toward Zayn’s wing.

Toward the one person who, for reasons I couldn’t explain, felt like the only place I could go right now.