The Human Among Wolves (Aurora) novel Chapter 357

Chapter 357

I pushed myself up slowly, the quilt sliding down to my lap. My muscles protested, weak but functional. I glanced down at myself-clean clothes. Not the same ones I’d been wearing in the car. Someone had changed me.

A flicker of panic tried to rise, but I forced it down.

That voice spoke again.

I lifted my gaze.

An older woman stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at me like I was something inconvenient she’d been forced to deal with. She was tall, posture straight as a rod, her presence rigid and commanding without needing to raise her voice.

Her hair was iron-gray, pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head so severe it seemed to stretch her features sharper. Not a single strand was out of place. Deep lines carved through her face, not from age alone but from habit-permanent frown lines between her brows, thin lips pressed into a constant expression of disapproval.

Her eyes were pale. Almost colorless. Cold and calculating as they assessed me from head to toe.

She wore a dark navy dress that fell past her knees, modest and structured with a high collar and long sleeves buttoned precisely at her wrists. No jewelry except for a thin silver chain resting at her throat. Practical shoes. No softness anywhere about her.

“What… where am I?”

The words barely left my mouth before I knew they wouldn’t matter.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at me like I was a person who deserved one.

Instead, she stepped forward and seized my wrist, her grip firm and impatient. I barely had time to steady myself before she pulled me toward

a door I hadn’t noticed before-hidden behind a pale folding screen in the corner of the room.

“We not have time. Move,” sho

muttered in her thick accent.

The door opened into a bathroom.

tiles. A wide mirror framed in gold. A large bathtub already

It was almost obscene how different it was from the cell I’d spent days in. Marble half-filled with steaming water. Towels folded neatly on a small stool. Bottles of oils and soaps arranged with care.

This wasn’t kindness.

This was preparation.

She shut the door behind us and locked it.

“Undress,” she ordered, not looking at me as she rolled up the sleeves of her blouse.

I hesitated.

Her eyes snapped to mine in the mirror. Cold. Warning.

|||

୮

1/3

Chapter 357

“Do not make problem,” she said flatly. “You waste time, you pay.”

My fingers trembled as I reached for the hem of the thin shirt they’d given me days ago. The fabric slid off slowly, then the rest followed. I felt exposed under the harsh bathroom lights, painfully aware of how weak I sll was.

She didn’t grin. Didn’t comment. She simply assessed.

Then she turned on the shower instead of using the bath.

Warm water sprayed down from above, filling the room with steam. She grabbed my arm and guided-no, pushed-me under it.

The water hit my skin, and I sucked in a breath. It was almost too hot, but I didn’t dare complain.

She worked quickly.

Soap first.

Rough hands scrubbing down my arms, my shoulders, my back. No gentleness. No care for comfort. Just efficiency. Like cleaning something before display. She tilted my head back and poured water through my hair, fingers digging into my scalp as she massaged shampoo in with brisk, practiced movements.

My thoughts felt distant. Detached.

This wasn’t about hygiene.

It was about presentation.

She rinsed my hair thoroughly, then reached for a razor from the counter.

My heart began to pound harder.

“Stay still,” she warned.

The blade was cold against my skin at first. Then precise. Methodical. She worked down my arms, my legs, every inch of exposed skin. Careful, deliberate strokes, ensuring nothing remained. My cheeks burned-not from shame exactly, but from the realization of what this meant.

They wanted me flawless.

Prepared.

Finished.

Steam filled the room, blurring the mirror until I could barely see my own reflection. Maybe that was better.

I didn’t want to see myself like this.

She stepped back when she was done, examining her work critically. She reached for a towel and wrapped it around me briskly, squeezing excess water from my hair without tenderness.

“Good,” she murmured. “Much better.”

r

2/3

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify