CHAPTER 126
**ZION**
I step further into the warehouse, my gaze locking onto the centre of the room.
William stands there, methodically wiping his bloodied knuckles with a cloth, his movements deliberate and tinged with simmering anger as if the bloodshed is nothing but an afterthought. Clark leans casually against the table, arms crossed, but the sharpness in his gaze betrays his calm posture. Ro, on the other hand, is restless, pacing back and forth, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he’s trying to release the tension coiling in his chest.
Harry sits slumped in a chair, elbows resting on his knees, head hanging low between his shoulders. The whole room feels like it’s holding its breath.
My gaze shifts to a half-open door at the far end of the warehouse—where Ethan should be.
My stomach knots. Something’s wrong.
“What the fuck is going on?” I demand when no one bothers to acknowledge me.
Silence.
Then—
Ro’s head turns toward me, his voice tight, weighed down by the tension hanging in the air.
“Ethan… he got away—”
“What the fuck do you mean he got away?” My voice cuts through the room, sharp and seething with fury. The words come out like a snap of electricity, the rage practically vibrating in the air around us.
Ro swallows hard, his eyes flicking toward William. “William was beating the shit out of him... we thought he was going to kill him…”
Before I can process his words, Stepdaddy’s growl cuts through the room, low and full of menace. He tosses the bloodied cloth aside, stepping forward with a predatory grace. His eyes are fire, filled with a barely contained fury that matches my own.
“Don’t fucking talk about me like I’m not standing right here, boy.” His voice is sharp, but I barely register it past the fire raging inside me.
I wanted blood.
I needed blood.
And now Ethan Wilde—the bastard responsible for every bruise marring Winter’s body—was gone?
William’s eyes lock onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling behind them—anger, despair, guilt. Each one feeds into the fire already burning inside me.
For a moment, Ethan is forgotten entirely.
William takes a breath, his voice suddenly hollow, distant.
"How is she?"
Disbelief surges through me.
Now he’s asking?
Now?
He had the entire fucking night to check on her, to sit by her side, to make sure she wasn’t drowning in the hell she’d been put through. But instead, he was here, focused on vengeance, throwing punches when what she needed was him. Her father.
A bitter laugh nearly escapes me, but I bite it back. The frustration boils in my chest, burning hotter with every passing second.
“She’s…” My voice cracks, the words caught in my throat.
She’s broken. She’s hurting. And worst of all, she’s left to deal with the reality that the man who did this to her is still out there.
Free.
The anger surges through me like a tidal wave, the frustration boiling over. “She could use her dad right now,” I snap, my words sharper than I intended.
William’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing, but I don’t back down.
“But no—you’re fucking avoiding her. You’re here, taking your anger out on Ethan when she’s the one who needs you!”
And now she has to live with the fact that the man who did this to her is still out there.
His voice is a low growl, full of seething anger. “Don’t you dare throw that at me, Zion?”
William shakes his head, jaw tight. “What she needs is that cunt wiped off the face of the fucking Earth for thinking he could put his hands on her.” His fingers flex like he’s already imagining it.
“But now—fuck knows where he is.”
“We’ll take care of it, Sir,” Ro tries, but his voice lacks conviction.
William’s eyes darken. “Not fucking good enough.” His voice cuts through the room like a blade.
He turns on them, fury crackling in the air like a brewing storm.
“That piece of shit should already be in jail—after I had my time with him. But you fucking morons couldn’t even tie a rope tight enough to keep him in one place?”
I run a hand through my hair, my frustration reaching its breaking point.
“So what now?” I demand.
“We just sit here with our dicks in our hands while Ethan Wilde walks free? After what he did?”
The silence that follows does nothing to cool my rage.
This isn’t fucking over. Not even close.
William’s posture stiffened, his broad shoulders squaring, his chest rising as his fury darkened his gaze. His entire body radiated barely restrained rage.
“You,” he seethed, stepping toward me, his voice low and dangerous. “You better watch that fucking tone. All of this? It’s on you. If you’d just done the right thing—if you had sent Winter home the moment she showed up at that damn party... Fuck, if you hadn’t been too busy screwing around to care—none of this would have happened.”
“Sir,” Harry interjected firmly, but his voice barely registered. William didn’t stop. He kept coming, his fists curling, his entire body coiled with the need to throw a punch.
“I can’t fucking believe Ethan Wilde thought going after Winter would be the best way to get to you. And you know what?” He shook his head, eyes burning with fury.
“It’s all your fucking fault.”
I clenched my fists at my sides, my jaw tight. I didn’t move, didn’t argue—because he was right. Every word, every ounce of blame he threw at me, I deserved it.
"With all due respect, sir," Harry barks, shifting forward like he's ready to throw himself between us.
"Zion is just as pissed about this as you are. Turning on each other won’t fix a damn thing. If we do, he wins."
Harry's eyes lock onto mine, and I see something I don’t like—understanding.
He saw it last night. The panic clawed beneath my skin.
Was it too much?
Did I let them see that I care?
No.
I don’t care. I just want Ethan to pay. That’s it.
"Harry’s right, Stepdaddy. I’m the one who caused this. I deserve—"
Crack.
White-hot pain explodes in my jaw as William's fist connects, my head snapping to the side.
"Motherfucker," I grunt, spitting copper as I straighten.
"Sir, what the fuck?" Ro snarls, his voice pure ice as I roll my jaw, working through the sting.
When I look up, Harry and Clark have stepped between us, restraining William before he can take another swing.
"Get it the fuck together!" Harry snaps, his grip iron-tight.
"Turning on each other won’t fix this. We need to stay focused—and when the time comes, Ethan will pay for laying a hand on your daughter."
William doesn’t fight against their hold, but his glare burns into mine. Then, in a voice so low only I can hear, he murmurs,
I clenched my jaw, the rage building like a storm inside me.
"Fine," William growled, his finger stabbing in my direction, his eyes blazing with fury.
"I want him to fucking learn. And not just him—the whole damn Wilde family needs to feel it. They need to understand, down to their fucking bones, exactly who they fucked with. And I swear, by the time I'm done, they’ll wish they never even breathed in my direction."
I didn’t flinch, but the gravity of it all settled heavily on my chest.
"And I swear," he continued, his voice low and dangerous,
"by the time I’m done, they’ll wish he’d never even breathed in my daughter's direction."
The weight of his words settles deep in my bones. A promise. A demand. A reckoning.
Without another word, I tear my gaze from his and stride toward the front door, grabbing a bottle of whiskey on the way out.
"Don’t wait up," I hiss over my shoulder before stepping into the night, ready to deliver the lesson of a lifetime.
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