The Human Among Wolves (Aurora) novel Chapter 326

Chapter 326

Aurora

He turned away from me abruptly, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to burn off the last of that anger before it exploded again. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow from the lamp near the bed and the pale spill of moonlight through the window. Everything felt too quiet now-like the aftermath of a storm.

“Sit,” he said, not harshly this time, but not gently either.

I hesitated for half a second before moving, perching on the edge of the bed. My hands twisted together in my lap, nerves buzzing under my

skin.

Zayn crossed the room and shrugged out of his hoodie, the motion sharp, practiced. He tossed it at me without warning. It landed in my lap,

heavy and warm, carrying his scent.

“You’re wearing that to sleep,” he said. “I don’t care what you usually wea

I looked down at it, fingers curling into the fabric. “Zayn-”

“Rory.” My name came out low, tired. “Just-don’t argue with me right now

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I nodded and pulled the hoodie over my head. It swallowed me instantly, the sleeves hanging past my hands, the hem brushing mid-thigh.

He watched me for a moment, jaw tight, eyes darker now-not angry in the same way, but troubled.

Then his gaze shifted.

Straight to my eyes.

His expression changed immediately.

Slowly, deliberately, he exhaled through his nose and shook his head once like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“You let him see them,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

My stomach dropped. “I forgot my contacts,” I said quietly. “I didn’t-”

“You forgot,” he repeated, incredulous. “Rory.”

“I wasn’t planning to stay,” I said, defensiveness creeping in despite mysel. “I didn’t think-”

“That’s the problem,” he cut in, sharper again. “You didn’t think. You walked into his room knowing damn well you’re not… normal anymore.”

“That’s not fair,” I muttered, standing up, my voice small even to my ownars. “You’re being really mean.”

He let out a short, humorless chuckle.

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Chapter 326

“Mean?” He shook his head once. “No. I’m realistic.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already going again, the words piling up like he’d been holding them in for too long

“What if it was a trap?” he snapped. “What if he did something to you?”

His voice rose on the last sentence, sharp and sudden. I flinched before I could stop myself, my shoulders tensing.

“He told me he’s not working with your father,” I said quickly, rushing the words out as if speed might protect me. “That he’s-”

“What?”

The single word cut through me.

He turned fully toward me now, disbelief written all over his face. “You actually told him?” His laugh was bitter this time, edged with

something close to panic. “Do you even have a brain?”

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That one stung. I looked down, fingers knotting in the fabric of his hoodie

He dragged a hand down his face and took a deep breath, clearly trying-and failing-to calm himself. When he spoke again, his voice was

lower, more dangerous.

“And let me guess,” he said slowly. “You F**king believed him?”

I swallowed, the silence between us answering for me.

Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, like he was bracing himself against the wall of his own thoughts. When he opened them again, the anger

was still there-but underneath it was fear, raw and unfiltered.

“Just… go to sleep,” he said, turning away from me. His voice was rough, stripped of the sharp edge but not the distance. “I can’t even look at

you right now.”

That did it.

The tears I’d been fighting finally won, blurring everything until the room softened into vague shapes and shadows. I nodded even though he wasn’t looking, because arguing now would only make it worse.

Because some part of me knew I’d crossed a line, even if I hadn’t meant to

I didn’t say anything. I just moved.

I climbed onto his bed slowly, every motion careful, quiet, as if I might break something fragile between us if I wasn’t gentle enough. The mattress dipped under my weight, unfamiliar but warm, still holding his scent. I pulled the covers up to my chest, curling slightly onto my side, my back to him.

My throat ached.

I stared at the wall, at nothing in particular, listening to the sound of my own breathing as I tried to steady it. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the heater and the soft rustle of fabric as I shifted under the blankets. My eyes burned, and I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears spill freely now that I was finally still.

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