The Human Among Wolves Chapter 95

Aurora

It took me a second to understand what he meant. Then my stomach twisted. “What?”

He shrugged, pretending not to care, but the tightness in his jaw gave him away. “Just asking. You were gone all day with him; I thought maybe you’d want to share how that went.”

I blinked at him, disbelief bubbling into anger. “Oh my god, you can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” His tone sharpened, cutting through the air between us. “You disappear with Kael, come back wearing his jacket, and now you’re at my door like nothing happened. Forgive me for wondering.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, not from guilt—because I hadn't done anything wrong—but from the way he said it. the way his tone wrapped around Kael's name like it was poison.

"It wasn't like that," I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking, but it wasn't the kind that made my stomach twist in a good way. This one was bitter.

"Oh, no?" He tilted his head, pushing off the frame just enough to step an inch closer. "Because everyone saw you getting out of his car this morning. You were wearing his jacket then, too."

"You're unbelievable," I muttered, shaking my head. "You have no idea what happened, and yet here you are—"

"Here I am, what?" He cut in, his voice sharp now. "Pointing out the obvious? You think Kael does nice things just because he's a good guy? You think he's selfless?"

I frowned. "Why do you even care?"

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair like he couldn't believe I'd even asked. "I don't."

The lie was so obvious it almost made me laugh. Almost.

"Really?" I asked, folding my arms, doing my best to sound bored. "Because you're acting pretty damn invested for someone who doesn't care."

"Just wait and see. Kael’s the kind of guy who gets bored easily. You think you’re special, but give it a week—he’ll move on. Guys like him always do.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides. “You’re just saying that because you’re jealous.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes flashing. “Jealous?” he repeated, his tone suddenly sharp. “You really think that’s what this is?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “That’s exactly what this is. Because if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be acting like an asshole right now.”

For a moment, the air felt too thick to breathe. Then he huffed out a short, bitter laugh. “You think too highly of yourself, Aurora.”

I forced my voice to stay calm. “Then why do you care what I do?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at me, his expression caught somewhere between anger and something softer he was trying hard to bury. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “Because watching you throw yourself at someone like him is painful,” he said simply. “That’s why.”

I blinked, stunned.

I stepped closer, my voice low and shaking—not from fear, but from the effort it took not to yell. “You don’t know what happened between me and Kael. You don’t know anything. You’ve got no right to stand here judging me just because I didn’t choose you.”

The words hung there between us, sharp and ugly. For a second, he just stared at me, something unreadable flashing behind his eyes. Then he laughed again, but this time it was quieter. Sadder.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper. “Guess you’re right. You’ve made your choice. Go back to Kael. Hope he’s everything you think he is.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “You don’t mean that.”

He looked at me one last time, eyes dark and tired. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”

And then he closed the door.

When the door clicked shut, I realized I was still holding my breath.

I exhaled slowly, my whole body trembling with anger I didn’t know what to do with.

“Fine,” I whispered under my breath, staring at the door. “Be that way.”

But as I walked back toward my dorm, something in me shifted. I’d spent long enough waiting for Zayn to choose me, to care enough to stay. And now, with one slammed door, I realized maybe I didn’t need him to.

When I finally reached my room, the lights were dim, and the girls were talking quietly about something I didn’t catch. Mira looked up first. “So?” she asked carefully.

I just shook my head. “Don’t ask.”

And that was that.

I kicked off my shoes, crawled into bed, and stared at the ceiling until the room blurred.

*** * ***

The next morning, the sound of my phone buzzing dragged me out of a restless sleep.

I groaned softly, my head still heavy from the night before, and reached blindly across the nightstand until my fingers brushed the screen.

The light burned my eyes as I squinted at the caller ID—and instantly, I was wide awake.

Mom.

My stomach twisted. For a second, I just stared at the name flashing on the screen, frozen. I hadn’t talked to her—or them—since that day.

I ignored every call, every text. I couldn’t face them. I didn’t know how. But now, seeing her name there, glowing against the dim light of the room—it felt like a sign I couldn’t ignore anymore.

Maybe it was time.

I sat up slowly, the blanket sliding down to my lap. The dorm was quiet, sunlight slipping weakly through the curtains. My roommates were still asleep—Lira curled on her side, Mira sprawled half off her bed, Riven’s arm hanging dramatically over the edge. For a moment, I just watched them breathe, steady and peaceful, before glancing down at my phone again.

The call was still ringing.

My hand was trembling as I finally swiped to answer. I pressed the phone to my ear and took a slow breath.

“...Hello?”

There was a short pause, the kind that made my throat tighten. Then came her voice—soft, hesitant, and achingly familiar.

“Aurora?”

It was strange how a single word could unravel me like that. I swallowed hard. “Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” The relief in her voice cracked something open inside me. “Thank God you picked up. I’ve been so worried about you.”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind scrambled for words, but all I could manage was, “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t true, but it was easier than trying to explain everything that wasn’t.

“I know things have been… hard,” she continued gently. “And I know you probably hate us right now, but please believe me when I say we never wanted to hurt you.”

I rubbed my forehead, closing my eyes. “You should’ve told me,” I said quietly. “You should’ve told me the truth years ago.”

“I know.” Her voice broke a little. “We thought we were protecting you. We didn’t think it would ever matter. But then… when you started asking questions, when things began to change—”

I exhaled shakily, leaning my elbows on my knees. “It mattered,” I whispered. “It mattered a lot.”

Silence stretched on the line for a long moment.

Then she spoke again, softer now. “Aurora, we just want you to be safe. Whatever you’re doing, wherever you are—please, be careful. You have no idea how dangerous some things can be once you start digging into the past.”

Her words made something cold settle in my chest. “What do you mean?” I asked, but she didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she sighed. “Just promise me, if you find something—anything strange—you’ll tell me first.”

I hesitated. “I can’t promise that.”

“Aurora—”

“I have to go,” I said quickly, cutting her off before my voice could crack. “But… thanks for calling.”

“Aurora, please—”

I hung up before she could finish.

For a long moment, I just sat there, staring at my phone. My heart was pounding, my mind a blur of thoughts I couldn’t hold onto.

Be careful. Dangerous.

What did she know?

Because the way she said it… it didn’t sound like a warning from a worried mother.