Page 21 of Siren

“Minimal,” Amir said. “Give it space to ache.”

He looked at Taraj. “You still got those lyrics you scribbled last week?”

Taraj reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a folded sheet. “Been hearing her voice on this since the first line.”

I arched a brow. “Yeah?”

He shrugged, that quiet confidence on full display. “Tell me if I’m wrong.”

He handed the paper to Amir, who skimmed it, then handed it to me.

I read:

“You weren’t a phase

You weren’t a song

You were the silence after

And the space I never belonged…”

Something clicked in my chest.

I didn’t need the whole verse to know it.

“Play something,” I whispered, stepping to the mic.

Amir cued the track.

A slow bassline slid in like it knew what it was doing—slick, dark, sensual. Synths unfurled behind it like silk sheets pulled back by want. But there was restraint too. It didn’t build—ithovered.

I closed my eyes and hummed what felt natural.

Just a melody at first—low, breathy, unsure. Then stronger. Rising like smoke around the chords. I didn’t even form words yet. Just sounds. Shapes of sorrow and sweetness curled into tune.

Beside the glass, Taraj nodded slowly. Then picked up a pen again.

Amir leaned forward. “She just gave us the hook,” he murmured. “Don’t even change it.”

I opened my eyes.

“Y’all want a name for this?” Amir asked, glancing between us.

Taraj didn’t hesitate. “Dangerous Thing.”

I blinked.

He looked at me. “That’s what this is about, right? The way something soft can undo you.”

I exhaled, becauseyes. That was it. That was the thing I hadn’t known how to say.

We locked eyes.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Let’s call it that.”

Amir smiled, already pulling the track stems together. “Let’s make it live.”

I closed my eyes. Breathed. Let the rhythm lick over me. Then I opened my mouth.

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