CHAPTER 120
**ZION**
“Z” Ro calls out from behind me, his tone careful, probing. I don’t respond, don’t even glance back. I don’t need their questions, their opinions. I just need to get Winter home.
The party finally comes into view through the trees, its warm glow cutting through the darkness.
“Just a little further,” I murmur in her ear, my voice coming out softer than I intended.
The others trail behind—Ro, Clark, Harry. I can feel their gazes burning into me, heavy with unspoken questions they’re too wary to voice. I don’t need to look back to picture their expressions: furrowed brows, tense jaws, confusion etched into their faces as they try to make sense of what’s going on—or of me.
Fuck, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing either.
“Keep moving,” I mutter under my breath, mostly to myself, trying to block out the weight of their stares.
Winter stumbles slightly, and my arm tightens around her instinctively, pulling her closer. I feel her shaky breath against my side, and something inside me twists again. She’s too close, but not close enough.
We emerge from the woods into the chaos of the party, the music still pounding and laughter echoing across the grounds.
But as soon as we step into view, the energy shifts. People pause mid-conversation, their gazes locking onto us. Winter is pressed tightly against my side, her head barely brushing my chest. Her pale, tear-streaked face and trembling frame are impossible to ignore.
The whispers start almost immediately, hushed but cutting. I catch fragments
—“What happened to her?” and
“Is that blood?”—and my jaw tightens.
My glare sweeps over them, cold and sharp, and one by one, they avert their eyes, suddenly finding anything else to focus on.
We keep moving toward the car, the silence thick between us. My steps are fast, purposeful, each one taking me closer to the damn vehicle and away from the tension clawing at the air.
My car comes into view, and Claire rushes forward, concern etched deep into her features. Without a word, she pulls the door open, stepping back to give me room.
I guide Winter forward, my hand steady at her back as she moves, slow and unsteady, her body stiff as if every step is a battle. She hesitates for a moment, but I help her ease into the seat.
Claire slips in from the other side, immediately reaching for Winter’s hand, her voice low as she murmurs reassurances I can’t make out. Winter doesn’t respond, just leans back, her eyes distant.
I paused, gripping the edge of the door for a moment, drawing in a sharp breath to steady myself. My pulse is still hammering, the tension in my chest refusing to ease.
Behind me, the others stand in heavy silence.
Harry’s jaw is clenched, his hands flexing at his sides like he’s ready to throw a punch—or maybe just waiting for someone to tell him where to aim.
Ro watches me, his narrowed eyes sharp, scanning my face like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle I’m not ready to share.
And Clark..
Clark just looks at me, a knowing look in his eyes, like he’s already figured out the storm raging in my head.
It’s infuriating. It’s also probably true.
I ignore them all.
I straighten, throwing the keys to Harry without a word.
“Drive,” I say, my voice low but firm, before I move around to the other side of the car and slide in beside Winter.
Harry nods, catching the keys without a word, and slips into the driver’s seat.
I round the car, sliding into the seat beside Winter. She doesn’t look at me, her eyes trained on her lap as she leans slightly toward Claire.
I take a breath, forcing the fury boiling inside me to settle. Not now. Not yet. For now, the only thing that matters is her.
And I hate it.
I hate that I care.
Why do I care?
She’s Winter.
The same girl who’s been a thorn in my side for years, the same girl who made my life hell. I should be angry at her, furious.
But all I can think about is the way she looked back there—huddled against that tree, tears streaking her face, her body shaking like she’d collapse at any second.
That image is seared into me now, like a brand I can’t shake. And it makes my blood boil in a way I can’t explain.
As Harry starts the car, I glance down at her again. Winter sits silently, her hands trembling slightly in her lap, her face pale and streaked with dried tears.
I’m supposed to hate her. She’s the enemy—the one who’s lied to me, hurt me, turned my life upside down in ways I’m still untangling.
I’ve had every reason to hate her, to shut her out, to stay angry. And yet…
Looking at her now, trembling and broken, I can’t summon the rage I’m supposed to feel. I can’t bring myself to be cold, to be cruel, not this time.
The rage I should feel toward her is eclipsed by the fury burning inside me for the bastard who dared to lay a hand on her.
And as much as I hate it, as much as it tears me up inside, I know one thing for sure:
I’ll burn the whole goddamn world down before I let anyone hurt her like this again.
And the worst part? I don’t even know why.
**WINTER**
As soon as we reach home, Zion doesn’t hesitate. Without a word, he sweeps me up into his arms like I weigh nothing. A startled gasp escapes my lips, my hands instinctively clutching at his shirt, but he doesn’t even glance at me. His jaw is tight, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and determination.
"Open the fucking door. Now." His voice is low and sharp, every syllable edged with urgency as he marches forward, my trembling body pressed tightly against his chest.
“Maybe we should call—” Claire begins, her voice unsure.
“N-no,” I manage to croak, my voice barely audible as I clutch Zion’s shirt.
“I’m fine. You can put me down now, Zion.”
But he doesn’t so much as glance at me, his grip firm as he strides through the house, heading straight for the stairs. Behind us, Clark, Ro, and Harry stay silent, lingering near the entrance.
“What the hell happened?” Penny’s voice cuts through the moment as Zion reaches the top of the stairs and pauses in front of my bedroom door.
"Mom?" Zion’s head jerks up, his voice sharp. "When the hell did you get back?"
"Language..." she chides, her voice soft but firm.
Her brow furrows deeply, her usual calm replaced with genuine concern. Her eyes flicker over Winter, taking in her state, the trembling, her face pale, and the fear that’s so evident in her gaze.
She steps closer, her hands instinctively reaching out as though to offer comfort, but her expression is tight with worry, something heavier than just concern settling into her features.
"Winter...what happened? Your face..." she demands, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of her worry.
Zion’s jaw clenches, his voice like a growl as he answers,
“Ethan fucking Wilde.” Just saying the name makes my body shudder involuntarily.
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