Chapter 48: The Weight of Truth

Chapter 48: Chapter 48: The Weight of Truth Zayn crouched down to pick up the totem before Lily could react. He turned it over in his hands, his eyes lifting to hers. His jaw tightened. "Why do you have this?" he asked, voice rough. Lily shrank back a little but didn’t look away. Zayn stood up, towering over her. "All totems are supposed to be turned in the moment they’re found," he said sharply. The words echoed off the cold stone walls. Lily pressed herself against the wall. "You stole it?" he snapped, stepping closer. "You thought you could just keep it?" She flinched, hard. Her body jerked like she was bracing for a blow. Eyes squeezed shut. The sight knocked the air out of Zayn’s lungs. He froze. ‘Goddess... what am I doing?’ Backing away, he placed a hand on one of the shelves, trying to steady himself. "I’m not going to hurt you," he said quickly, voice softer now. "Lily..." She didn’t move, but her shoulders were shaking. He dragged a hand through his hair, guilt crashing into him. This wasn’t who he was supposed to be. He crouched down again, slower this time. "I shouldn’t have yelled," he murmured. "I didn’t mean to scare you." Lily peeked at him, still breathing hard, her eyes searching his face. "I just..." He placed the totem between them on the floor. "I just need to understand." Lily blinked, silent tears shimmering in her lashes. Then slowly, she raised her hands. Hesitant gesture, pointing to herself, miming digging, then tapping her mouth gently. Twice. Zayn watched her carefully. "You found it... and you were going to trade it?" he asked. "For food?" She didn’t answer. She just looked down, shoulders hunched. He understood. She kept the totems because she didn’t know when she would get to eat again. And someone, maybe several people, had been letting that happen. His fists clenched. "Who?" His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "Who’s been starving you?" Lily’s eyes flew wide. She shook her head fast, hands pressed together. No. No. Her mouth formed the word again and again. Zayn’s wolf snarled, itching to be let loose. But he held it back. She was already scared of him. He couldn’t make it worse. He exhaled slowly, calming his voice. "You should’ve told someone," he muttered. "You should’ve told me." Lily bit her lip, her gaze falling to the floor. That’s when he noticed it. The book she clutched tightly against her chest. He reached out slowly, pointing to it. "And that?" he asked. "What’s in that?" Lily stiffened. Her arms tightened around the book. Zayn waited patiently this time. After a long pause, Lily shifted the book into her lap and opened it. She flipped through the book with shaky hands, stopping at the pages that made her stomach turn earlier. She pushed the open book toward Zayn hesitantly before glancing up at him to see his reaction. Zayn leaned in, his hand steadying the fragile spine. The candlelight flickered, throwing shadows over the dark sketches and faded text. Rough drawings filled the page. A wolf twisted into something monstrous. Fangs longer than a man’s fingers. Eyes hollow and wild. Chains around its neck and limbs. Zayn’s jaw locked tight. He didn’t need the words to understand what he was looking at. It was him. Or what he was becoming. Beside the pictures, strange symbols curled like vines, circling a blood-red moon. "What is all this?" he muttered, more to himself than to her. Lily tapped lightly on one of the sections of text. She gestured slowly, dragging her finger across an invisible horizon, then tracing the shape of a crescent moon in the air. New moon. Sacrifice. Zayn understood more than he wanted to. His mouth was dry as he flipped to the next page. There, in crude ink, was a diagram. A circle of wolves around a bonfire In the middle, on blood soaked ground, a figure was shown mid-shift and screaming towards the sky. Lily swallowed hard, hugging herself. She looked up at him, her eyes full of questions she was too afraid to speak. Zayn’s hands curled into fists on his thighs. She pointed at the drawing again. Then at him. She was asking him a question. She was trying to ask if that was what was happening to him. Was he turning into the monster pictured in the book? Zayn sat back. He looked at the book for a long moment before finally answering, voice low. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Something like that." Lily leaned forward a little, her lips parting like she wanted to ask more. Her hand hovered in the air. Then she traced another shape. A small circle in the center, surrounded by marks. Sacrifices. She was asking. Did you... did they...? Zayn let out a slow, painful breath. “I didn’t choose it,” he said. His voice was rough, worn thin. “I didn’t want it.” Lily stilled, not daring to blink. “They forced me,” Zayn went on, barely above a whisper. “And something went wrong.” He lifted his gaze, meeting hers across the soft glow of the candle. “Really wrong,” he finished. Lily didn’t move, but her heart pounded. She tried not to look at him, yet her eyes kept drifting to Zayn—the way the candlelight softened the sharp lines of his face, the faint scar across his brow. She glanced once. Then again. The second time, he caught her. Their eyes met and held. No words. Just silence stretching between them. Lily’s breath hitched. Her fingers curled in her lap. Zayn didn’t look away. Then slowly, he blinked and glanced down at the book. Still, her heart wouldn’t settle. Zayn cleared his throat and leaned back against the stone wall. “So,” he said, voice rough but calm, “why didn’t I see you when I made my rounds earlier?” Lily blinked, caught off guard. After a pause, she tapped her chest, then pointed to him—then mimed ducking low and slipping away. Zayn frowned. “You were hiding?” She nodded, cheeks hot with shame. “Why?” he asked, not unkind, just tired. She mimed people whispering and arguing, then covered her ears and shook her head. He exhaled slowly, understanding sinking in. “You thought seeing me would cause more problems.” She nodded again, her expression tight. Zayn looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He sat in silence for a long beat, staring at the floor. “Do you... hate me?” Lily turned to look at him. For a long time, she couldn’t answer. Then, she slowly nodded. How could she not hate him? After all the things he had done to her. But she couldn’t forget the moments where he risked everything to save her. He brought her back from death. Lily bit her lip, she shook her head. She didn’t hate him much either. Zayn let out a low, humorless laugh and leaned his head back against the wall. Lily twisted her fingers in her lap, then pointed at him, then herself. She had the same question for him. Did he hate her, too? He looked at her. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.” He wanted to blame her for everything, for the scars that were left behind. But sitting here, seeing her, small, bruised, terrified. He couldn’t find it in himself to hate her. His eyes drifted, almost without thinking, to the soft patch of skin where her tunic had slipped down. The mark. The faint crescent of his bite still bruised her pale neck. A clear, undeniable claim. One no wolf could mistake. His throat tightened sharply. He felt a sick twist in his gut. He reached up, dragging a hand down his face, before whispering, almost to himself, "That was a mistake." He didn’t see the way Lily stiffened. Didn’t catch the way her hand dropped to her lap, fingers clenching the fabric of her skirt. Inside, Lily’s heart cracked. It shouldn’t have mattered. But hearing him say it was like having a dagger plunged into her heart. She looked away quickly, hiding her face behind the fall of her hair. Zayn was lost in his own thoughts, drowning in guilt. By marking Lily, he’d put a target on her back. Everyone who looked at her, will know. Everyone who hated him would hate her too. He thought he was saving her. He thought marking her would keep her alive. But maybe he’d only doomed her further. He let out a low breath and rubbed the back of his neck. The silence between them grew thick again. Lily sat perfectly still, staring at the floor, her chest aching badly. She forced herself to lift her head and smiled shakily. And then, slowly, she pointed to her heart, then mimed a slow pulse, mouthing, alive. Zayn stared at her, confused at first. She tapped her chest again, harder. Alive. He realized she was saying she understood. She knew he only marked her to save her life. Zayn’s chest tightened. "You don’t have to pretend," he muttered. "If you hate me for it... I’d get it." Zayn let out a slow breath. She wasn’t angry. Just... accepted. Like she always was. It didn’t feel right. Lily hesitated, then raised her hands to speak again. She motioned simply, pointing to herself, then to him, then tapping her chest again. She was saying thank you. That she knew he only marked her to save her. That it didn’t mean anything more. The ache in Zayn’s chest lingered. Why did it feel like heartbreak?