CHAPTER 124
**ZION**
I sit at the kitchen table, my fists clenched against the smooth, polished wood. The silence of the house weighs on me, broken only by the muffled sound of Mum’s footsteps upstairs. I know she’s with Winter, checking on her, comforting her—while I sit here, useless.
I should be at the warehouse, where the boys and William are keeping Ethan. My fists ache to finish what I started yesterday, to make him pay for every second of fear he put in her eyes.
But when Harry asked why I wasn’t coming, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
Instead, I shrugged it off, muttering something about having other things to do—pretending I didn’t care about making Ethan pay.
Pretending I didn’t care.
But I do. Way more than I should.
Guilt twisted inside me like a blade, the weight of last night pressing down on my chest.
It's my fault.
All of it.
Ethan Wilde went after her because of me because I couldn't keep my damn obsession with her in check.
Ever since she arrived, she's been in my head, under my skin, and that sick fuck noticed.
My hatred for her was public knowledge- everyone knew how much I despised her. I did everything I could to make her feel small, to break her down, leaving no stone unturned in my quest to make her cry, to bully her- to get revenge.
But Ethan, that twisted bastard, mistook my hatred for obsession.
He used her to get back at me.
And if I hadn't left her in the woods,... after kissing her like I couldn't breathe without her, then humiliating her and walking away... maybe none of this would've happened.
I left her vulnerable-alone, hurt, and upset. I gave him the perfect opportunity.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of her face last night.
The terror.
The tears.
"Fuck," I mutter, the sound rough and bitter.
The image won't go away, no matter how hard I try. I can't stop thinking about what would've happened if Harry hadn't gotten there in time.
It should've been me.
I should've been the one to stop Ethan first.
I should've been there to protect her.
But I wasn't.
I was busy getting my dick sucked by some girl whose name I don't even remember. Even when I was with that girl, my mind kept drifting back to Winter.
To that kiss.
About the way she made me feel alive for the first time since Dad died. And I hated her for it.
Hated her for making me want something more, something I didn't think I could have.
The guilt feels like acid in my veins, burning me alive.
"Everything okay, sweetheart?" Mum's voice startles me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glance up as she walks into the room, her expression soft but sharp in that way only she can manage.
"Uh..is a....." My voice dies in my throat.
"She's okay," Mum says gently, sitting down across from me.
"You all got there just in time. You did well." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
There's something there-an unspoken question, an accusation she's keeping locked away.
Mum isn't stupid. She knows there's more to this than what I've told her. And for now, she's letting it slide. But I can see it in her eyes.
I push back from the table, my chair scraping against the floor as I rise to my feet.
"I should head out," I mutter, my voice low and rough like the words are being dragged out of me against my will.
My eyes flick toward the door.
“Check on the boys. Make sure they haven’t taken matters into their own hands… yet.”
My jaw tightens, muscles coiled with restraint as my gaze hardens.
If anyone gets to make Ethan pay, it's me. I'm the one who deserves to make him suffer, to ensure he feels every ounce of the pain he caused.
The thoughts spiral through my mind, each one sharper, darker, and more calculated than the last. Every scenario I imagine is laced with a chilling precision, leaving no doubt about my intentions.
"Hmmm...."
Mum lets out a quiet sigh as she moves to the cupboard, pulling out a mug and starting the coffee machine.
"I'm worried about William," she says softly, her fingers drumming anxiously against the counter.
"I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry."
I let out a sharp breath, my jaw clenching so tightly it aches.
"He should be fucking angry," I snap, my voice rough with barely contained rage.
"His daughter was sexually assaulted." The words burn like acid on my tongue, each one laced with fury, cutting through the air like a blade.
"I know, but still..." Her voice trails off, worry etched in every syllable.
She's right, though. As much as I want to go, the last thing we need is stepdaddy -or anyone-getting their hands bloodied.
"Ro and Clark will keep him in check, okay?" I say, my voice softer now, as if trying to ease her concerns.
She nods faintly but doesn't look convinced.
"Anyway," I continue, "I'll head over. Just to be sure."
"Actually..." Mum says, turning to face me, her expression unreadable.
"I need you to stay here with Winter for a little while. I'm supposed to meet Mr. Cartwright. William was supposed to go, but... well, his mind is elsewhere." Her tone softens, almost apologetic, catching me off guard.
"Seriously? Are you still going to that meeting? Today of all days?" My voice comes out sharper than I intended, but I don’t care. "You can’t just leave Winter! What if she… I don’t know..." My chest tightens, my mind racing through every worst-case scenario, and I rake a hand through my hair in frustration.
Mum barely flinches. "Zion, I won’t be long," she says, her tone calm—too calm. "Besides, you’re here, aren’t you?"
I stare at her, a mix of disbelief and irritation surging through me. Is she serious right now? Does she think that’s enough? That I can somehow keep Winter together when I can barely keep myself from falling apart?
The words hang there, a refusal already forming on my lips, but then she turns to me, a mug in her hand.
"Please, take this up to her," she says, her voice gentle but firm,
"I think she could use a friend, and who better than her childhood best friend...and now her brother," she says, her voice soft and soothing as she rubs my shoulder with her free hand.
Best friend?
Yeah, that's fucking ancient history...
And I'm not her fucking brother.
But the truth is...
I want to see her.
Desperately.
My need to be near her outweighs everything else right now - my thirst for revenge, my anger, my desire for justice. All of it takes a backseat to the overwhelming urge to be close to her.
Last night was a testament to that.
I had held off as long as I could, telling myself that I needed to give her space and that I shouldn't intrude on her when she was vulnerable. But the moment I knew it was safe to slip into her room unnoticed, I couldn't resist. I expected to find her asleep and had every intention of quietly watching over her from the shadows before slipping back out without a word. But what I found instead was something entirely different.
Those big, terrified eyes of hers looked up at me from the darkness, telling me in no uncertain terms that she couldn't sleep...because of him.
And in that moment, something inside of me shifted. My anger and frustration gave way to a deep-seated need to comfort and protect her. And when she settled into my arms and let herself drift off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth and safety of my presence...it was like nothing else mattered.
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