I Rejected My Obsessive Werebeast novel Chapter 64

Aurora’s POV

The alarm went off at four–something.

The room was still dark. Silas was already awake – I could tell by the way he was lying there, still and watchful. He reached over and tugged at the sleeve of my pajama top.

“Tired?”

“Manageable.”

I leaned down and pressed my mouth to the corner of his. Quick, soft. Then I swung my legs off the bed and got up.

By the time I came out in my dark jacket, Silas was already in the kitchen. A glass of warm water and two slices of bread sat on the counter. He didn‘ t say anything. Just pushed the glass closer when I walked past.

I drank it down and set the glass on the counter with a soft clink.

Then I pulled the keycard from my pocket and checked it again. I put it back and went to the entryway to change my shoes.

Silas followed. He stood beside me and bent down to adjust my jacket collar. His fingers brushed the hollow of my collarbone.

“Let’s go.” he said.

I nodded. Then I opened the door and walked out.

The streets were empty. The streetlights hadn’t been turned off yet,

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casting long pale pools on the concrete. We kept to the wall as we made my way to the side entrance of the arena.

The card worked. The same green light flashed, followed by the familiar beep.

We went down the stairs quietly, lighter on my feet than last time. The corridor at the bottom was darker now – half the bulbs seemed to be out, the ones that still worked throwing weak yellow circles on the floor every few meters. Dust on the ground. Damp stains creeping up the base of the walls.

The iron door to the lower level was already open. The lock hung from the latch, not fastened. Like someone had gone through recently and hadn’t bothered to secure it.

We slipped inside.

–

medicine,

The corridor beyond was narrower. The smell hit me first sharper and thicker than what Freya had described, mixed with iron rust and something damp and old.

I walked forward about eight steps.

On my left, a row of glass windows, all dark. Through them I could barely make out the low shape of a metal table. Surgical. The kind with adjustable arms and drainage trays.

On my right, cages. Stacked two high in some places. In one of them, a thin werebeast was curled into a ball, eyes closed, breathing so shallow I couldn’t tell if it was asleep or something worse.

I didn’t turn on my phone light. I used what little glow leaked in from the wall lamps and pressed close to the glass, looking toward the surgical table.

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The

Tools were spread across the surface. Used gauze in a clump beside them On a rack nearby, rows of small bottles with numbered labels –

abbreviations I couldn’t read from here.

I pulled out my phone and took two quick pictures while Silas covered for

1. me.

I hadn’t even lowered the phone when I heard it.

Footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. Low voices followed, drawing closer by the second.

Silas moved before I could.

–

His hand closed around my wrist and yanked me back two steps. His other hand found a door beside us – half–open, unlatched – and shoved it wide just enough for us to slip through.

The door closed behind us with barely a sound.

Dark. Tight. The smell of old cleaning solution and dust in there.

Silas had me pressed against the wall, his body between me and the door. Our breathing was so shallow it was almost nothing.

Through the crack in the door, I could see the corridor.

The footsteps stopped just outside.

“Another batch in half an hour,” a voice said. Flat. “If they’re too heavy to ‘carry, leave them at the far end of the hall.”

A second voice, lower, muttered something in agreement.

Then the footsteps moved on, fading toward the deeper part of the

corridor.

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