Evelyn POV.
They always said sirens belonged in the water.
But tonight, I was nothing but blood, dirt, and fire—dragging breath after breath into lungs that didn't want to keep going.
The forest was a blur of shadows. Branches tore at my clothes, scraped my arms.
The wind howled behind me, carrying voices that didn't belong to humans and neither did I.
The siren inside me was screaming.
I stumbled down an incline, mud slick beneath my boots, my heartbeat pounding so hard it blurred the edges of my vision.
I'd lost them for now—but not for long.
They didn't stop. Not for anything. Not when they smelled blood, power, or fear.
And I had all three leaking out of me.
Something cracked behind me, a tree branch snapping, heavy footfall too controlled to be wildlife.
I bolted again.
Every inch of me ached. I hadn't stopped running since the warehouse burned, since I watched Kita's eyes wide in horror at what I'd done, since my voice, the one I thought only sang sad songs had turned into a weapon that sent two armed men crumpling to the ground like paper.
I didn't know if they were dead.
I didn't know if I cared.
The city lights had vanished hours ago. All I had now was the endless dark, lit by slivers of moonlight and the flicker of whatever was chasing me.
The kind of dark you feel on your skin, the kind that watches you back.
I stopped at a clearing, barely a patch of grass, but open enough to see the tree line.
My hands shook as I reached for the charm around my neck.
A tiny silver crescent Kita gave me when we were kids. She said it would keep nightmares away.
It hadn't.
Crack.
I spun.
There—across the clearing, a shape stepped through the trees. Slow, confident like it had all the time in the world.
A man. Or something wearing the shape of one.
He wore a dark coat, loose over his shoulders, curls escaping from under a hat pulled low over his brow.
He moved like he didn't fear death. Like he'd met it before and traded secrets.
I backed up instinctively.
"Don't," he said—voice quiet, but somehow it snapped through the silence like a whip.
I froze.
My instincts tangled in warning and something else. Curiosity? Pull? I couldn't tell.
"I know what you are," I said, because fear made me reckless.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not yet, you don't."
I narrowed mine. "You're one of them. Sent to kill me."
His gaze dropped just for a second. Almost like the truth tasted bitter on his tongue.
"I was," he admitted.
I didn't breathe.
Something in the air shifted. A low hum like the forest was holding its breath with me.
I felt it in my ribs, in the space behind my eyes that he wasn't lying.
"I should scream," I said.
"Try."
That's a challenge. A dare.
I felt the siren inside me stir.
My voice, the thing they wanted to cage, to use, to destroy tightened in my throat, ready to ripple out.
One note could make his brain bleed. One note could stop his heart.
But he didn't flinch.
His eyes dark, steady, unreadable locked with mine. "I'm not here to hurt you. Not anymore."
I didn't believe him.
"You ran," he said, taking one step closer. "And kept running. And not once did you stop to ask why they're hunting you."
"I know why," I snapped. "Because I'm dangerous."
"Wrong," he said. "They're hunting you because you're valuable."
I swallowed, but the word burned going down. "That's not comforting."
"Wasn't meant to be."
He took another step. This time, I didn't move.
"I'm Zayn," he said simply.
I blinked. "You think giving me your name makes me trust you?"
"No." His lips twitched slightly. "But I figured if I'm going to break every rule and not kill you, the least I can do is introduce myself."
That got my attention.
"Wait," I said slowly. "You disobeyed a direct kill order?"
Zayn nodded once.
"Why?"
His silence felt heavy. Then—"You sang. In that warehouse."
My blood ran cold.
"You were watching?"
"I was sent to confirm the kill. I saw what you did to those men. And what you didn't do."
I looked away. "I didn't want to kill them."
"I know."
A pause stretched between us, so thick with shadows and something quieter.
"Why are you really here?" I whispered.
Zayn stepped forward. Just enough for the moonlight to catch the edges of his face—sharp cheekbones, a faint scar trailing down his jaw, and those eyes. Gold-flecked. Not fully human.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe I'm tired of doing what I'm told."
"That's not a good reason."
"It's the only one I have."
We stood there, staring—two monsters in the dark, neither sure if the other would strike first.
Then I heard it. Another presence.
Zayn turned instantly, nostrils flaring like something primal just stirred. "We need to move."
"What is it?"
"Not friendly."
I didn't ask anymore questions. I ran.
This time, he ran beside me.
His shadow flickered like it had a life of its own, stretching too far, too fast. But that didn't make dare to look back.
Somewhere in the trees behind us, I thought I heard a voice whisper my name. Not Zayn's and not anyone I recognized.
Just something inhuman, ancient, and hungry.
And I knew, in that moment, I was being hunted by more than just mercenaries.
Something deeper had woken when I sang.
And it wasn't going to stop until I was silenced.