The Human Among Wolves Chapter 98

Zayn

I stood there for a long time, staring at the spot she’d been standing—the air still heavy with her scent, faint and familiar, like rain and pine and something that didn’t belong to me anymore.

I told myself to breathe. To move. To not go after her.

But it didn’t matter.

The second she disappeared around the corner, something inside me cracked open.

I turned on my heel and headed for the dorms, my pulse pounding so hard it drowned everything else out.

By the time I reached my room, I wasn’t thinking at all.

The door slammed shut behind me with a sound that shook the walls.

My chest heaved.

The silence pressed in.

Then I saw it.

The bed. The sheets.

That morning—her—replaying in my head like a curse.

I moved before I even realized it.

My fist hit the wall once.

Then again.

Harder.

The sound was sharp and ugly—skin splitting, bone against plaster.

Blood spattered across the white paint.

I hit it again.

And again.

Until my knuckles went numb. Until I couldn’t feel anything but the burn in my lungs and the ache in my chest.

When I finally stopped, I leaned against the wall, breathing hard, my forehead pressed to the cool surface.

The room smelled like dust and iron and regret.

I looked down at my hands—raw, shaking, blood smeared across my fingers.

I wanted it to hurt.

I needed it to.

Because it was easier than thinking about the look in her eyes when she’d said,

You broke me.

I slid down the wall until I hit the floor, my back against the plaster, blood still dripping from my knuckles.

For a long time, I just sat there in the half-dark, staring at nothing.

Zade’s voice echoed in my head like a ghost.

End it before I do something you’ll regret.

And maybe I already had.

Because somewhere out there, Aurora was walking away again—this time for good.

And I was still here, bleeding in a room full of ghosts, trying to convince myself it was worth it.

That breaking her was better than losing her forever.

*Flashbacks*

*2 months ago*

The morning I lost her, the light came in soft. It slipped through the curtains in thin gold lines, touching her first.

Her hair. Her shoulder. The edge of the blanket that had fallen halfway off the bed.

For a moment, I just watched her.

Watched the rise and fall of her chest, the quiet way she breathed, the faint crease between her brows. She always frowned in her sleep—like she was fighting something even in her dreams.

The room still smelled like her skin. Like something I wasn’t supposed to want this much.

I could’ve stayed like that—watching her breathe, memorizing every small detail—forever.

Then my phone buzzed.

Once. Twice.

Persistent.

I reached for it carefully, not wanting to wake her. “Yeah?” I muttered, my voice still rough from sleep.

Zade’s voice slid through the speaker, smooth and cold. “Good morning, little brother. Sleep well?”

My stomach dropped.

He only used that tone when he wanted something.

“What do you want?” I asked quietly, glancing at Aurora. She hadn’t moved.

There was a short, cruel laugh on the other end. “What do I want? Let’s start with what you want. Or rather, who.”

My grip tightened around the phone. “Zade—”

“Don’t bother lying,” he interrupted. “I know about her.”

He didn’t need to say her name. I already knew.

“She’s pretty,” he went on casually. “Soft. Innocent. Not your usual type.”

My jaw clenched. “Zade, don’t—”

“Oh, relax. I’m not the one you need to worry about.” His tone dropped lower. “Father’s been asking questions again. You know what that means.”

I went completely still.

“You wouldn’t—”

“I would.” His voice sharpened, cruel amusement twisting every word. “You think I wouldn’t tell him you’re hiding something? That you’re hiding her? You know what he’s been looking for—the right kind of girl, the kind that fetches a good price.”

My heart stopped. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Then make sure I don’t have to,” Zade said simply. “End it, Zayn. Now. Before I tell Father there’s a girl in your bed who doesn’t belong here. Oh... and get back with Charlotte.”

He hung up.

For a long time, I just sat there.

The room was too bright. Too quiet.

I looked back at her—at Aurora, still asleep, still safe. The sunlight touched her skin, catching in her hair. She shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher, mumbling something soft under her breath.

And it hit me.

If my father ever found out about her, she wouldn’t stay safe for long.

He’d take her.

And I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

My chest tightened. I felt sick. I wanted to run, to wake her and tell her everything. But I couldn’t.

Because once I said it, it’d be real.

And real meant dangerous.

So instead, I did what I always do.

I destroyed the only good thing I’d ever had before someone else could.

I pulled on my hoodie and left the room. The air outside was cold, the sky gray, and I ran until my lungs burned and my hands shook.

When I came back, the decision was already carved into me like a wound.

She was sitting up when I walked in, hair messy, blanket clutched to her chest. She smiled when she saw me—small, uncertain, but hopeful.

“You’re awake,” I said, voice flat.

She nodded, tilting her head a little. “Where were you?”

I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Went for a run. Needed to clear my head.”

The light shifted across her face. I could see her studying me, searching for something I couldn’t give.

“What happened?” she asked quietly. “You look like someone just—”

“Don’t.” My voice came out sharper than I meant.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, the words scraping my throat raw. “Like you think you know me. Like last night meant something.”

Her expression faltered. “It… it didn’t?”

I laughed—a short, ugly sound that didn’t even sound like me. I turned toward her, and for a second, she looked so confused, so open, that I almost broke.

Almost.

“You actually thought I cared about you?”

Her breath hitched. I saw it—the hurt flicker across her face, fast but deep.

I should’ve stopped. I didn’t.

“You’re just a pathetic little human,” I said, each word deliberate, cruel. “Spreading your legs for the first guy who bothers to notice you.”

Her face went white. Then red. Tears welled, fast and raw.

And when she stood—still naked, still shaking—I wanted to take it all back. Every word.

But I didn’t.

I just stood there while she dressed, clumsy hands trembling, shoulders shaking as she tried not to cry.

Each sound—the rustle of fabric, the sharp inhale when her shirt caught on her hair—carved itself into me.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Because if I did, I’d beg her to stay.

She looked up once, eyes shining through tears. “Why?” she whispered.

I couldn’t answer.

Not with the truth.

So I stayed silent; let her keep hating me instead.

Then she asked again, voice breaking. “Why did you sleep with me?”

And I knew that was it—the question that would haunt me forever.

So I gave her the only thing I had left to give her.

A lie sharp enough to cut.

“You want to know why?” I said, stepping closer. “Because it didn’t mean anything. You’re nothing special, Aurora. Just a lonely little girl who got lucky that I was bored enough to play along. The book, the spell... it was just something to pass the time. And last night? You practically begged me for it. You think I'd say no?”

She flinched like I’d hit her.

Her hand moved before I could stop her.

The crack of her palm against my cheek was loud in the silence. My head snapped to the side, the sting burning hot across my skin.

I deserved worse.

She was crying now, angry, shaking, her voice breaking as she tried to speak. “You don’t get to talk to me like that,” she said. “Not after—” She stopped herself, breath catching.

And then she turned away.

I watched her pull her bag from the floor, watched her grab that damn book that started all of this. Her hand lingered on the cover for half a second, and I thought maybe—maybe she’d stay.

She didn’t.

She reached the door, one hand on the knob.

“Aurora.”

Her name left my mouth before I could stop it.

She froze, her back to me, shoulders trembling.

For a moment, I almost told her everything—about Zade, about Father, about the threat hanging over her like a blade.

But if I did, it would only paint a target on her back.

So instead, I said the only thing that would keep her safe.

“You should hate me.”

Her answer came soft, trembling, final.

“I already do.”

Then the door opened.

And she was gone.

I stood there, staring at the door, my cheek still stinging, my hands shaking. The room still smelled like her.

Like what I’d just destroyed.

I punched the wall until my knuckles split, until blood smeared the white paint, until pain drowned out the sound of her voice in my head.

And when I finally stopped, I realized the truth—the one I’d been running from since the moment I met her.

I didn’t break her to save her.

I broke her because I was too much of a coward to fight for her.