The Human Among Wolves (Aurora) novel Chapter 148

Chapter 148

、 བུ 87%

Zayn

I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there–on the cold floor, back against the wall, staring at nothing, thinking about that day. Time had blurred into a dull, endless hum. My hands had stopped bleeding somewhere along the way, the blood drying in dark smears across my knuckles and wrists, but they still looked like a mess.

The silence was heavy, pressing against my ears, until a sound cut through it–a knock.

I didn’t move.

It came again. Then again. Slow at first, then impatient, like whoever it was didn’t know how close they were to losing a hand.

I clenched my jaw, the muscles aching from how long I’d been grinding my teeth. Whoever was on the other side of that door better have a good fucking reason for being there. Because if they didn’t, I was one breath away from ripping their head off.

I pushed myself off the floor, every joint protesting, and walked to the door like I was moving through water–slow, deliberate, the blood in my knuckles throbbing with each step. My hand curled around the handle and I stared at it for a beat, before turning it and

pulling the door open.

Of course it was her.

Charlotte stood in the frame, hair like a shard of winter–silver with that icy–blue sheen her family always seemed to favor. She looked exactly as she always did: composed, polished, the kind of pretty that felt practiced. For a second I just stared, because of course she’d pick this exact moment to show up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I managed, then cut through whatever fake politeness might’ve crept in. “What the fuck do you

want?”

Anger tightened my voice so hard it sounded brittle. I wasn’t trying to hide how annoyed I was, I hate her–every poised smile, every entitled breath. And yet, of course, I was stuck with her. Forced. Like everything else I wanted to keep from breaking had

already been decided for me.

“I missed you, baby,” she cooed, that saccharine drawl she always used-the one that made my skin crawl.

“I’m not in the fucking mood,” I started, meaning every word, “so find someone else—”

She didn’t even give me the courtesy of being offended. Before I could finish, she shoved past me and eased into the room like she owned the place. The movement was smooth, practiced, entitled–a rehearsed invasion.

Her eyes landed on the wall and widened a fraction, the expression changing on her face from smug to mock–concern in the span of a heartbeat. “What happened?” she asked, voice all softness and fake worry.

I snorted, more bitter than amused. “None of your business, Charlotte, Leave.”

She flinched at the word as if it was a blow, then smiled like nothing had happened and started to take a step closer, fingers flexing

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Chapter 148

as though to pat my cheek–an intimacy I hadn’t invited.

<87%

Something in me snapped and I had to force myself not to move. I’ve never hit a woman. I don’t ever want to be that kind of man. But watching her, smug and safe and wanting, with that absurd concern plastered on, I felt a hot, ugly temptation flare up–an impulse I hated. My knuckles throbbed where I’d split the skin, and the ache in my hand felt oddly appropriate.

“Leave,” I repeated, quieter this time, every syllable measured so there was no mistaking it for a joke.

“Oh come on, you know that I can call your father and-” Whatever restraint I still had snapped clean in two. The name of my father on her lips was a provocation, a threat wrapped in a smirk, and it hit something raw and furious inside me.

Before I even registered the motion, my arm was out. My fingers closed around the side of her throat, not with the careful cruelty of planning but with the blind, hot force of someone who’d been pushed too far. Her breath hitched, a small, surprised sound right against my palm. I didn’t think. I reacted. I slammed her back hard enough that the room seemed to tilt for a heartbeat, her body

crushing against the wall with a dull thud.

She gagged, eyes wide and suddenly very small, the practiced confidence melting into panic. The hand at her throat tightened on impulse, then loosened a fraction when the reality of what I’d done crashed into me–the pulse under my fingers, the frantic little

noises she made, the terrified tilt of her head.

“You little bitch,” I hissed, the words coming out jagged and useless. My voice was rough, unfamiliar even to me, and for an instant

I could see the shock on her face reflected in my own shaking hands.

“Threaten me with my father again,” I said, my voice low and steady, “and I’ll do worse to you. Got it?”

The words came out calm–too calm. My hand was still at her throat, not squeezing, just resting there, heavy enough to remind her

who she was talking to.

Charlotte’s eyes went wide, flickering with something between shock and fear. Her breath hitched as she nodded, quick and jerky, like she didn’t trust her voice enough to answer. The sharp edge of panic in her movements only made the silence stretch further,

thicker.

Her fingers came up to grip my wrist, weak and trembling, trying to pry me off her. She wasn’t fighting anymore, just reacting-

instinct, not pride. I could feel her pulse racing under my thumb, fast and uneven.

For a long second, I didn’t move. I wanted her to feel it–to understand that I wasn’t bluffing this time. Then, slowly, I loosened my grip. My hand fell away, leaving a faint red mark where my fingers had been. She stumbled back a step, one hand flying to her

throat as she looked anywhere but at me.

“Now leave.”

The words fell out of me like a blade, flat and final. I didn’t have to repeat them.

She scrambled–fast and clumsy, like someone whose bravado had been punched out of them–shoving past me as she fled toward the door. Her movements made the room feel too bright, too loud; I watched the back of her jacket disappear in one last flurry of

motion.

The door slammed behind her with a sharp, echoing thud that left the air vibrating for a second.

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The Human Among Wolves