Cynthia, for once, thought to actually get rid of him by kicking him or something of that sorts, but she weakened with just one look; one look on his otherwise handsome face; for he wore a scowl more than wicked; the tight grip on her forearm a constant, throbbing reminder as to why she should be wary of him and thus, keep her mouth shut.

They made their way through the narrow, dark alleys; taking several turns, all the while Cynthia looking anywhere, but at him.

"So, let's start with the introductions."

He, out of the blue, announced in a deep voice, making Cynthia jump in surprise. Her chocolate brown eyes snapped in his direction, finally meeting his dark, deep hazel ones as he was already staring at her intently. He let go of her hand, and for a second, she again thought of making a run for it, but then she remembered she knows not where she is exactly, so staying put and playing along was her best bet.

"It's Malik. Zayn Malik." He voiced out proudly with a smirk tugged on his lips and a hand extended for her to shake.

She looked at him for some seconds in shock, clearly flabbergasted at the all of a sudden mood change, but then hesitatingly, with shaky hands took hold of his hand, shaking it gently.

"It's- It's Dakota Clearwater." She softly lied.

"Dakota." He repeated after her in a feather soft voice, tasting her name on his tongue. "It's cool." He completed with a shrug and then motioned her with his hand to resume walking.

"So, Ms. Dakota Clearwater-" he paused and rubbed his palms, all the while wearing a honeyed smile and looking at her intently, "I wanted to talk to you; as I said earlier; about what you witnessed back there."

She shuddered at the memory, a shaky breath leaving her lips, before she pleaded, "Please, I am sorry..." though herself unaware as to what she was pleading for and why she said sorry; it wasn't like she was the criminal.

"Of course," Zayn said blankly, his mood taking another swing surprisingly, "You are completely at no harm."

Cynthia's tensed form sagged in relief just a bit at this. She took a sigh and let go a deep breath which was stuck in her being for quite a while; thinking that at least something happened that she could be relieved about in a situation as messed up as this. Though, no sooner did relief washed over her, then Zayn spit out another heart wrenching sentence; making her whole system go haywire.

"For tonight, that is. Because my friend has effectively banned me from doing so."

Cynthia's eyes widened in distress and utter fear. Her steps faltered a bit. She, as secretively as possible, gulped down the saliva that choked her and slowly rubbed her palm on her sweater to get rid of the sweat pouring out profusely from the sweat pores of her palm. Observing this, Zayn smiled sinisterly, enjoying how much he affected the young woman, then cleared his throat before speaking, "Though, let me tell you, being safe or not, it's completely in your hands. I have got nothing to do with it. Trust me, it's not me you should be scared of; it's what you saw that you should be scared of."

Understanding what's spoken in riddles had never been her forte; needless to say, she comprehended nothing out of what she heard. Biting her lower lip, she frowned hard, trying to understand what he said.

"What-What do you mean?" She finally settled down for asking.

Zayn stopped dead in his tracks and so did Cynthia. Looking around herself, she found that they were now out of the web of dark, gloomy alleys and in front of the art studio.

"Lead the way. I am walking you home." Zayn spoke up.

Cynthia tensed. No way she is telling a psychopath where she lives! She shook her head vigorously, and stammered in a terrified voice, "No, no. It's f-fine. I wi-" Effectively cutting her off, Zayn, now annoyed at her denial, boomed in a sharp tone, "That's not for you to decide."

She was about to object but hushed down as Zayn shot her a murderous look; and finally, she agreed.

She softly gave him her address, intentionally leaving out the specifics about her flat number and though, Zayn noticed it, he spoke nothing.

They then proceeded towards her flat; Cynthia tensed insanely, for, obviously, bringing a killer at her place was not something to be happy about, neither something that will improve her already pitiable condition.

The chilly night air wrapped around them like blanket. And as their feet, in unison, slapped the ground, the rhythmic tapping was the only sound that echoed in the surrounding. For the next one hour, they walked on with not a single word being spoken between them.

"What I meant back then is that-" he started suddenly, as they had finally neared her apartment building, making Cynthia turn her head to face him, "I have no personal vendetta against you, first thing first." He said with a raised finger, "So as I leave you now, baby, you've got two options."

Her apartment building was now standing right there in front of her, as they now stopped yet again and stood in front of her building. And as she looked at the building, to her surprise, the lights were on and from where they stood, some kind of commotion could be heard.

"Now listen, doll face." He snapped, his words sweet but his tone told a different story, " Hear this out clearly. Once I leave this place; you can go simply inside these fucking rusted metal gates," he growled, making Cynthia gulp in fear at yet another mood swing, " step inside your shitty flat, bawl your eyes out in fear for all night, wake up in the morning like a zombie due to last night's crying, do whatever the fuck you do anyway for living, continue to do all this shit for some weeks-" he again let out a guttural sound which had Cynthia shivering, " and then finally realize that you need to get a life for yourself rather than roaming around like a fucking ghost at the middle of the night, witnessing murders around the city and then getting almost raped by some drunk asshole; and then eventually forget whatever happened. Either that or-" he stopped before baring his teeth at her, at which she instantly stepped back in pure horror, "you can go ahead and inform about this to someone. And I assure you, after that-" he stopped and snatched her forearm, earning a yelp of pain from her.

Pulling her towards his broad chest, he took hold of her jaw and harshly moved her head to face her apartment building. "You see those spikes?" He let go of her jaw and pointed out the pointed, rusty spikes on the metal gates of the building, "I will hang your decapitated head on those and your other body parts; I will put them on my showcase as a souvenir. Do you get it?"

Fright seeped into her bones, blood running cold, beads of cold sweat forming at the hairline and rolling down her forehead. He had rendered her immobile with his soul shackling words and psychopathic imageries.

"Don't stare, girlie. We don't want you to fall in love with me now." he let out as dark chuckle; again his mood swing giving Cynthia a terrible whiplash. She blinked several times, unshed tears rolling down her cheek and looked away from his face. Taking a deep breath, she sputtered, "I-I won't tell."

A sigh left his mouth, as he distanced himself from her and rubbed his face, "Finally..." he mumbled inaudibly, before straightening up with a poker face as he spoke in a monotonous voice,"Inviting me in your house must be no option, I am sure. So, that means it's a wrap then. Let's make sure we never meet after this, yes. Goodnight, Ms. Clearwater. " he nodded and bowed a bit, and then turn around, walking away; leaving a terrified, confused, flabbergasted Cynthia, for surely, he was a big mystery.

A mystery she would never want to understand. Curiosity will never get the best of her; at least, not when it comes to this man and his bipolar attitude.

A/N: Please, do vote and comment if you liked the chapter:)