We didn't speak as we ran.
The city blurred around us — brick, iron, light all of it fading behind as Zayn led me through alleys and broken fences like he'd memorized every path before the night began.
He didn't look back. He didn't have to.
I could feel him calculating every sound behind us, every shift in the wind.
Whatever he was… it wasn't just a shapeshifter.
He moved like someone who'd died once and hadn't quite come back whole.
"Are we going far?" I finally rasped, breath hitching as we ducked beneath a rusted-out fire escape.
"Far enough."
"That's not a real answer."
"You want a map too?" he shot back, glancing over his shoulder, eyes scanning the street. "I just saved your ass. Try gratitude."
I scowled. "You also admitted you were sent to kill me. You don't get a medal for not murdering me on sight."
That earned a pause. A breath. Then the faintest smirk. "Fair."
I hated the way it tugged at something beneath my ribs.
He stopped suddenly, hand raised. I crashed into him with a grunt.
"Seriously?" I hissed.
"Quiet," he muttered.
His body tensed — the shift was subtle, but I felt it.
His hearing caught something I didn't.
Then I heard it too: the low, guttural purr of a modified engine.
A black SUV cruised down the street. Slow. Windows tinted. No headlights.
I shrank back into the wall instinctively, but he held out an arm, stopping me.
He was too close.
His coat brushed my arm.
He was still warm from the shift, heat radiating off his skin like he ran on fire and bone.
"Don't move," he whispered, barely audible.
For a second, we were just shadows.
The SUV passed.
Neither of us exhaled until the taillights vanished into the dark.
I looked up at him. He was already looking at me.
"Safe house's two blocks from here," he said.
"You have a safe house?" I asked, suspicion rising like smoke. "Let me guess, candy, shackles, and a cage out back?"
He didn't smile this time. "I had orders to kill you, not keep you. The safe house was mine before you."
"So you admit this is a trap?"
"I admit nothing." He paused. "Except I didn't kill you when I had the chance. Maybe don't push your luck."
My jaw clenched. "Why didn't you?"
He looked at me.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked to my throat. "Because you're more powerful than they know. And more dangerous than you know."
Something in his tone made my skin prickle.
"…Dangerous how?"
He started walking again, slower now. "That note you hit in the alley? It was a dissonant pulse. Disruptive. Not a normal siren frequency."
I blinked. "What does that mean?"
"It means you're not just a siren."
The words dropped like lead between us.
I hated the way they made my heart stutter.
"You're lying."
"Am I?"
I tried to laugh. It came out shaky. "You don't even know me."
Zayn stopped and turned.
His expression had sharpened more soldier than shadow now.
"I know enough," he said. "The way your power leaks when you're afraid, the way your aura spikes around conflict and the way your scream in Midtown three days ago shattered steel and skulls and still left you standing."
That last part, he wasn't supposed to know that.
No one was. I had blacked out after and I hadn't told anyone.
My voice dropped. "How long have you been following me?"
His silence was answer enough.
"God," I whispered. "You're a stalker with a savior complex."
"No." His voice turned to gravel. "I was your reaper. Until I saw the Council's real motives."
That word Council froze me in place.
"You work for them?"
"I did." He didn't flinch. "Until the target looked too human to justify."
We stared at each other in the half-light.
A thousand thoughts pressed at the edge of my mouth, but none felt safe to say.
Not when I still didn't know what side he was truly on and not when his presence pulled at something deep and stupid inside me, something that wanted to believe him.
A siren's weakness wasn't just sound.
It was wanting to be heard.
We walked the final two blocks in silence.
The safe house wasn't what I expected.
No chains. No blood.
Just a run-down townhouse with blackout curtains, a busted doorbell, and layers of enchantment humming faintly under the threshold.
"You warded this?" I asked, stepping inside. The air felt thick, protected and tethered.
He tossed his coat over a chair and walked to the kitchen like he owned the place. "I have friends in low places."
"You mean witches?"
"Lower."
I didn't ask.
The room was dim but clean.
A couch, a pile of old books, weapons on the wall, not displayed — just resting, like they'd been used too often to need ceremony.
The only light came from a dying candle on the windowsill.
Zayn poured two glasses of water and handed me one.
I took it warily. "Thanks."
He sat opposite me, elbows on his knees, watching like I might unravel any second.
I nearly did.
"Can I ask you something?" I said after a while.
"You'll ask even if I say no."
"What are you?"
A pause.
His mouth curved slightly, but there was no real humor in it.
"Shadow wolf."
"That's not a thing."
"It is when your pack's born in cursed blood and fed to war."
I stared. "You're full of comforting bedtime stories, aren't you?"
"I'm not here to comfort you, Evelyn," he said quietly.
He said my name like a sin he hadn't decided to repent for.
But still, he didn't move away and neither did I.