ZOE DEAN’S POV
The stranger didn’t move. He stayed crouched in front of , eyes locked on mine. There was sothing about his gaze — sharp but not unkind. It wasn’t the kind of look that frightened you, not exactly. It was the kind that saw too much, like he could read every thought I tried to bury.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Who... who are you?" The words ca out shakier than I intended, but I forced them out anyway. I needed to say sothing, to prove to myself I wasn’t just a trembling ss sitting on the ground.
He tilted his head slightly, studying . "You don’t want to know," he said finally.
That wasn’t an answer. I frowned a little, confusion flickering through my fear. His tone wasn’t dismissive — more like he was warning . But still, I hated when people dodged questions. Nero was fond of that.
I pushed myself up a bit, trying to regain so courage. I wasn’t shaking as much now. Maybe because compared to the group of n from earlier, he didn’t feel like a threat. Dangerous, yes — but not in that sa, predatory way.
He straightened to his full height, and I realized just how tall he was. The dim streetlight caught the line of his jaw, glinting against what looked like a tal cuff or watch. Everything about him scread don’t ss with , but strangely, I didn’t feel the urge to run.
"Can you stand?" he asked quietly, his eyes searching mine.
I nodded — maybe too fast. My legs, however, had other plans. The mont I tried to get up, they wobbled under .
He caught before I could fall again, one strong arm circling my waist. His touch was firm but not rough, steadying with an ease that felt practiced. The scent of leather and faint smoke clung to him, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
My heart drumd against my ribs. I felt small in his hold, painfully aware of how close we were.
He looked down at , a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you said you could walk?"
I blinked at him, heat rising to my cheeks. Was he teasing ? My mouth opened, then closed. I gently pulled away from his hold, determined to prove I could stand on my own this ti.
"Th-thank you," I murmured, not daring to et his eyes.
He didn’t respond right away. For a mont, all I heard was the soft rustle of his jacket as he adjusted it, and the distant hum of tires on wet asphalt.
Then his voice ca again, low and curious. "Why are you out this late?"
I sighed, glancing away. "I didn’t plan to be. I was just... trying to get ho."
"Ho," he echoed, like he was turning the word over in his mind. Then, after a pause, "Where do you stay?"
I hesitated. Every instinct told to be careful — that I shouldn’t be giving out personal details to a stranger in the middle of the night. But sothing in his tone made it hard to shut him out. It wasn’t demanding. It was... steady. Grounded.
"Down the road," I said at last.
He nodded once, decisive. "Co on. I’ll walk you."
I blinked at him, unsure I’d heard right. "What? No, you don’t have to—"
"It wasn’t a suggestion."
The calm authority in his voice froze mid-sentence. It wasn’t threatening — just firm. Like arguing would be pointless.
I stared up at him, my pulse still uneven. Was he being protective, or controlling? I couldn’t tell.
"Who are you?" I asked again, quieter this ti. Part of didn’t want to know, but I needed to. I needed to understand the kind of danger I might be walking beside.
This ti, he gave a faint smile — a ghost of one, really. "Since you’ve asked," he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, "you can call Damien."
Damien.
The na rolled through my mind, unfamiliar yet heavy. It sounded like the kind of na that carried secrets — the kind people whispered, not spoke.
Still, my instincts whispered sothing different. You can trust him. I wasn’t sure why, but I decided to listen. If Nero had taught anything, it was that sotis you had to trust first and question later.
Damien’s gaze swept over the dark street again, like he was checking for danger. When his eyes found mine again, they softened just a little. "We should get you ho. It’s late."
I wanted to argue — to say I could handle myself — but the truth was, I didn’t want to be alone out here anymore. "Okay," I said quietly.
He gave a small nod, and together we started walking. The silence that fell between us wasn’t uncomfortable. Just quiet — the kind that filled the space between two strangers who didn’t know what to say.
After a while, I finally spoke. "Thank you... for earlier. For helping ."
His response was simple. "It’s nothing."
Our footsteps echoed against the pavent, slow and steady. After a mont, he asked, "So, what’s your na?"
"Zoe," I said, my voice low.
"Just Zoe?" he asked, glancing down at with a faint grin.
I hesitated, then sighed. "Zoe Dean."
He nodded, smiling as though approving it. "Nice na."
"Thanks," I muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
The rest of the walk was wordless. I found comfort in the rhythm of our steps, the sound of the night breathing around us. For the first ti that evening, I didn’t feel terrified.
When we reached my apartnt building, I turned to him. "Thank you for walking ho."
He nodded, hands in his pockets. "You’re welco, Zoe."
Sothing about the way he said my na sent a small shiver down my spine. I didn’t like the way my na sounded on his lips.
I smiled awkwardly and started toward the door, but then his voice ca again, deep and quiet. "I hope to see you again, Zoe."
I froze, turning slightly. He was smiling, a cocky smile that made shiver disapprovingly.
I blinked, unsure what to do with that, then shrugged it off and slipped inside the apartnt.
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