CHAPTER 119
ZION
"Zion, stop! For fuck’s sake, you’re going to kill him!"
I hear the voice distantly, like it’s coming from underwater, but it doesn’t reach me.
Nothing does.
I’m lost in the chaos, every punch landing with precision and fury, each one a release of the rage and fear that’s been boiling inside me. Ethan’s face is a bloody mess beneath my fists, but it’s not enough.
It will never be enough.
The world around me blurs—movement, sound, everything fades. All I see is him, the bastard who dared to touch her, to use her against me.
My fists meet his flesh over and over, the satisfying thud of impact fueling my resolve. He made this personal, and now he’s paying for it.
I catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye, and it’s like a knife to the chest.
Winter stands frozen, pressed against a tree, her wide, terrified eyes locked on me.
Her fear is written in every line of her face. She’s trembling, tears streaking down her cheeks, her breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. And then, she shakes her head. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, then more urgently. Her lips parted, forming silent words I couldn’t ignore, even if I wanted to.
Stop. Don’t.
The plea hits me like a punch to the gut, cutting through the rage boiling inside me. But it doesn’t extinguish it. It fuels it. Because of the fear in her eyes, the way she’s begging me to stop—it’s all because of him. Ethan.
He put that look on her face. He’s the reason she’s trembling, tears streaking down her cheeks, yet she’s shaking her head, mouthing for me to stop. My chest heaves, each breath ragged and heavy, as I stare at her.
Why? Why is she asking me to stop?
Doesn’t she want him to pay? Doesn’t she want him to hurt the way he hurt her?
My fists clench at my sides, my blood still boiling, my body buzzing with the need to finish what I started.
Then Ethan moves, a weak groan escaping his bloodied lips, and the fury roars back like wildfire. My hands shoot out, grabbing the front of his shirt, and I haul him up just enough so he’s forced to look at me. His head lolls, but I tighten my grip, my knuckles whitening as I yank him closer.
I glance back at Winter, her head shaking frantically, silently begging me to stop. Her wide, tear-filled eyes make my chest ache, and for a moment, my breath hitches. I let out a sharp exhale, trying to rein in the storm threatening to break free again.
Turning my attention back to Ethan, I lower my voice, letting every word drip with cold, calculated venom.
“Don’t ever fucking touch her again,” I snarl, my tone deadly and deliberate. “Because if you do, I’ll kill you. No hesitation. No second chances.”
I release him, letting his useless body drop back to the ground, and the silence that follows is deafening. My chest heaves, each breath burning like fire in my lungs. I stand there for a moment, staring down at him, a part of me still wanting to finish what I started.
Slowly, I turn to Winter.
My heart pounding, every instinct screaming at me to fix this, to make everything right. As I lower my gaze to her face, I freeze.
The sight of the handprint on her cheek hits me like a punch to the gut. The outline of someone's fingers—Ethan's fingers—stains her skin, a cruel reminder of what she's been through. Her lip is split, a thin line of blood trickling down, and I feel my chest tighten, a cold wave of fury flooding through me.
My hands twitch, a pulse of rage surging up, and for a fleeting moment, I see red. I can almost hear the sickening crunch of Ethan’s bones beneath my fists. My body tenses, the urge to finish what I started rising like a tidal wave.
But I force myself to take a breath, to slow down. I can't lose control again—not now. Not in front of her.
“Snowflake,”
I kneel in front of her, and gently brush the hair away from her face, my touch light, like she's made of glass. My voice comes out in a low growl, barely controlled.
"You’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it."
But in my mind, the rage is still there, simmering. The bruises on her skin will not go unpunished.
Ethan will pay for every mark, every tear, and every ounce of fear he's put in her eyes. But for now, I force myself to stay focused, stay present.
Soon, though... soon, he’ll wish he never laid a hand on her.
“Z, let's get her home”, Clark says, his voice cutting through the haze of my thoughts. It’s low and urgent, but I barely process it. My focus stays on Winter, on her fragile form leaning against the tree, and the raw, primal need to protect her at all costs.
I nod, just barely. He’s right.
“Snowflake, can you stand?”
She nods faintly, her eyes hesitant, and attempts to push herself off the tree. Her hands shake as they clutch at the rough bark, struggling to find purchase. But her legs give way beneath her, and she collapses, trembling, unable to support her weight.
Harry steps forward, his expression soft with concern, extending a hand toward her.
“Winter, take my hand,” he says gently, his voice calm but steady.
“No.” My voice cuts through the quiet, harsher than I meant.
Harry freezes, his brow knitting in confusion as he turns to look at me.
“I’ll help her,” I say firmly, my tone brooking no argument. My gaze doesn’t leave Winter as I take a step closer, my focus solely on her.
“Snowflake,” I murmur, my voice soft and steady, trying to draw her out of the storm swirling inside her. “Let’s go home.”
Her tear-streaked face lifts slowly, her wide, uncertain eyes darting around the group. She glances at each of them—Harry, Claire, Ro—
Finally, her gaze lands on me and the hand I’ve extended toward her.
She hesitates, her eyes flickering between my face and my outstretched hand, as though trying to decide whether to trust the sincerity in my gaze or brace herself for yet another cruel blow.
I hold out my hand, patient, unwavering.
"Snowflake...."
She hesitates, and I can see the battle waging within her.
Slowly, her hand rises, tentative at first, and I meet it halfway.
When her fingers finally brush against mine, I close my hands around hers with a careful, deliberate gentleness, as though afraid even the slightest pressure might shatter her.
Without another word, I lift her to her feet, her body swaying as she leans into me. Her weight presses against my side, and I adjust instinctively, pulling her closer and anchoring her.
Her head dips toward my shoulder, and I feel her uneven breaths against my chest, each one tugging at something deep inside me.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, the words soft but filled with a fierce promise. My arm tightens around Winter, holding her steady, keeping her safe.
As we begin to move, her body remains pressed against mine, fragile but trusting. And for the first time tonight, I feel like I’ve done something right.
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