ZOE DEAN'S POV
The stranger didn't move. He stayed crouched in front of me, eyes locked on mine. There was something 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 came out shakier than I intended, but I forced them out anyway. I needed to say something, to prove to myself I wasn't just a trembling mess sitting on the ground.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me. "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 me. But still, I hated when people dodged questions. Nero was fond of that.
