CHAPTER 108
**WINTER**
"Winter....."
What!
"What the fuck?" Zion's voice booms, cutting through the excited murmurs. His fury is unmistakable as he steps forward, practically vibrating with rage. "Her name shouldn't be in there," he growls, glaring at Carl like he's ready to throw punches.
"I told you not to put her name in, and you did it anyway."
Carl's eyes narrow, irritation creeping into his voice. "Oh, come on, Z. I can put down whatever name I want. You drew hers, so deal with it. If she's such a problem for you, then pick someone else." He shakes the slip of paper in front of Zion with a mocking grin. "Or, hell, maybe I'll just take her off your hands instead."
"Over my dead body," Zion sneers, his voice sharp enough to slice through the noise around us.
Carl raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed, his smirk only growing.
"Look, I get it—she’s your sister or something, and obviously, that makes things... complicated for you. So, being the generous guy that I am, why don’t I step in and take your place?"
Zion’s expression darkens, his jaw tightening as he steps closer, eyes blazing with barely contained fury.
"She’s not my fucking sister," he snaps, voice low and dangerous.
"And you can’t be with her... not unless you’re looking to catch something."
My head snaps toward Zion, disbelief and fury surging through me.
"What did you just say?"
He steps closer, invading my space, his dark eyes locked onto mine with a predatory intensity.
"I said," he drawls, voice thick with mockery,
"I'm not about to let a friend risk it with someone so... easy. Wouldn’t want them walking away with more than just regrets—maybe something a bit harder to get rid of, like STD." His eyes narrowed, the cruel smirk on his lips twisting with cold amusement.
The crowd ripples with laughter, and I feel the heat rising in my face. My heart pounds, and my vision tunnels in on him.
"Look who's talking," I snap, my voice shaking with rage.
"You go through girls more often than you change your damn clothes. Like I’d ever let you or your pathetic friends anywhere near me. You and this stupid game can go straight to hell."
"Yeah, right," someone jeers from the crowd. "As if anyone here, especially the Royal Crew- would want to be with her."
"Seriously," another voice chimes in, louder this time.
"Look at her—like she just crawled out of a dumpster. Forget STDs, she probably has other diseases you can't wash off."
Laughter ripples through the crowd, sharp and cutting, echoing louder as more people join in.
Zion’s smirk only deepens, feeding off their cruelty like he’s enjoying the spectacle. My throat tightens, the burn of unshed tears stinging my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
They’re all watching, waiting—hungry for more humiliation.
Claire’s hand grips my shoulder, her voice low but steady, laced with tension.
“Winter, don’t listen to him or any of them. No one can force you into this. It’s just a sick joke. Let’s leave.” Her glare darts toward Zion, sharp and full of defiance, but he doesn’t even flinch. His gaze stays locked on me, intense and unrelenting.
Carl steps forward, his smirk as smug as ever, his voice oozing arrogance.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, tilting his head as if he’s explaining some grand tradition.
“Like I said, it’s a game. Rules are rules. Tradition says the girl picked from the jar either goes with the Royals or the football team. And Winter, you’ve been picked.”
Then, with a sly grin, Carl turns to Zion, his smile stretching wider, full of taunt.
“So, Royal, if you don’t want Winter—”
"I swear to God, Carl, if you don't shut your mouth!" Claire snaps, her voice rising as she glares at him.
Zion doesn't break his gaze from me, a twisted satisfaction flickering behind his eyes. It's like he's daring me to crack, to break under the weight of everyone's judgment.
Ronald steps in, his voice cold but indifferent.
"Just pick again, Zion. The quicker we finish this, the quicker we get to the real party."
The crowd murmurs in agreement, but I can feel the weight of Zion's insult still hanging in the air. He said it to humiliate me, and from the smug expressions around us, it's working. I stare back at Zion, wondering how someone could be so cruel.
“The sooner we’re done with this stupid game, the sooner we can get trashed!” Ronald yells impatiently, trying to break through the mounting tension.
I glance at Zion, instantly regretting it. His eyes burn with fury, and all of it seems aimed directly at me. What is his problem?
“Nah, Ro, that’s not how this game goes,” Carl cuts in, his voice slick with amusement.
His smirk is predatory, his gaze shifting between Zion and me like he’s savouring the drama. “Her name was pulled from the jar, fair and square. If Zion doesn’t want her, I’ll happily take his spot.”
"So, Winter, how about that date?" Carl asks, his voice dripping with mock sweetness, taking a step closer.
Disgust churns in my stomach, making me feel sick.
Before I can respond, Zion moves—fast. His hand slams against Carl's chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. The force of it is enough to make the crowd hush, tension crackling in the air.
Zion's entire body is rigid, his fists clenched at his sides like he’s moments from losing control. His voice comes out rough, low, and seething with barely restrained rage.
"I pulled her name," he growls, his glare cutting like a blade.
"And while I'd rather screw a corpse than lay a hand on her, you're right—rules are rules. Stepsister or not. Shes mine for tonight. "
God, spare me.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
