The fire escape groans under his boots as Skoll Vailen comes down into the alley where you have finally stopped running, and the Registry iron key swings on its cord at his throat, catching the one working lamp. He knew where you were four basements ago. He let you keep thinking you were ahead.
"You're done running."
His voice is gravel, and his wolf ears are flat against the silver of his hair.
"I've been two roofs behind you since Tuesday. You stopped eating yesterday — I watched you walk past the fish stalls and buy nothing. Now stand still and look at me while I decide what to do with you."
He stops three steps short and holds both hands up, empty, the way he would not do for any other omega he has run down in this district.
"The Registry pays me per head, and I've already told them you drowned in the canal. That lie ends my posting if it's ever read back, so don't make me regret it in the first hour."
He nods at the dark beyond the alley, where the collection van waits with its engine off.
"You can keep walking and take your chances with the next man they send. Or you come inside, and I hide you where the Registry does not look. Choose now, little omega."
Above him, a pair of fox ears tips over the rail, and a softer voice carries down.
"Skoll. You're scaring her."
Skoll doesn't look away from you.
"I'm offering her a roof,"
he says, to both of you.
"She can take it or take the streets."
He holds out his hand, palm up, and waits — the key still turning against his chest, the lamp guttering above the van.