CHAPTER 134

**ZION**

I shove open my bedroom door and slam it shut behind me, the sound echoing through the room. "Family breakfast, my ass," I mutter under my breath, raking a hand through my hair.

The warm sunlight streaming through the window does nothing to ease the tension coiling inside me. It only makes the room feel too open, too exposed—just like the look in Winter’s eyes when I said those things. That flicker of hurt. The one I shouldn’t care about.

I start pacing, my jaw tight, fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. Why the hell does it bother me? I told myself this didn’t matter. That she didn’t matter. But the way her expression had shifted, just for a second before she masked it—fuck.

I shake my head sharply. No. She’s getting too close. This thing—whatever the hell it is—needs to die before it even has the chance to grow.

Grinding my teeth, I pull out my phone, gripping it tighter than necessary. My eyes close for a brief second as I exhale slowly. Time to end this.

The image displayed was one I had taken just hours before, in the dead of night, when Winter was fast asleep. 

It was a picture of her, curled up in bed, her face peaceful and serene. But it was what surrounded her that made my gut twist with a mix of emotions - my arm was draped over her frame, pulling her close to me, making it seem like we had spent the night together.

I had taken several shots, each one meticulously staged to paint a damning picture. In some, Winter's nightgown was twisted and tangled, as if it had been torn off in the heat of the moment. 

I had even lowered her straps, making it seem like she had been undressing herself. The blanket was pulled up to her chest, but not before I had arranged it to look like she was naked underneath, the folds of the fabric suggesting an intimacy that wasn't there.

I had also removed my shirt, and positioned myself beside her, my bare chest pressed against her arm. My hand rested on her hip, my fingers tracing the curve of her waist. Winter held me in her sleep, her arms wrapped around me in a gentle embrace, oblivious to what was going on. Her peaceful expression and relaxed demeanour only added to the illusion that she had given herself to me willingly.

One particular photo showed my lips pressed against the nape of her neck, leaving a trail of kisses on her delicate skin. Another showed my hand tucked under the hem of her nightgown as if I had been caressing her skin just moments before. The images were meant to be incriminating, to make it seem like Winter had been a willing participant in our supposed tryst.

This was all part of the plan, after all. This was what needed to be done to make Winter pay for what she had done. 

My thumb hovered over the screen as I swiped through the images again, a pang of guilt mixed with a sense of justification swirled in my stomach.

This was all part of the plan, after all. This was what needed to be done to make Winter pay for what she had done.

But for a moment, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed.

I took a deep breath and forwarded the images to Jake's number.

** You know what to do.**

As soon as I hit send, a knot formed in my stomach. It wasn't just anxiety; it was something more complex - regret maybe? 

Doubt? 

I pushed those thoughts aside and stood up from the bed.

The voice in my head spoke up again - *She deserves this*. *You're just levelling the playing field*. 

But this time, it sounded hollow even to me.

I walked over to the window, staring out at the sprawling estate bathed in the early morning light. The perfectly manicured lawns, the winding driveway, and the stillness of it all should have been calming. But inside me, a storm raged. For once, I wasn't sure if what I had done would bring the closure I craved or if I had just unleashed something far worse.

............

I stepped outside, my keys jingling in my hand. The crisp air did little to soothe the restlessness thrumming beneath my skin. 

But the moment my gaze landed on the two idiots lounging on the hood of my Lamborghini, whatever patience I had left snapped.

"Get the fuck off my car," I barked, my voice cutting through the stillness.

Clark smirked, leaning back as if he had all the time in the world. "Relax, man. It's just a car."

Then, after a deliberate pause, his grin stretched wider, dripping with smug amusement. 

"Though, I gotta say… it’s pretty fitting. You’ve always had a thing for things that are all flash and no substance—just like the girls you fuck"

My jaw tensed as I took a slow step closer, my voice dropping to something cold and dangerous. “Funny, coming from a guy who wouldn’t know what it’s like to have either—flash or substance.”

I let my gaze drag over him, unimpressed. “Must be exhausting, Clark, always running your mouth to make up for what you lack everywhere else.”

Clark let out a mock-dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like I’d just wounded him. 

“Oof, that one stung, Zion.” Then his smirk returned, sharper than before. 

“What’s got your boy panties in a twist? Trouble in paradise? Or did one of your disposable girls finally realize you’re not as charming as you think?”

I didn’t bother responding. He wasn’t worth it. Instead, my gaze shifted past him, landing on Ro.

Ronald didn't even bother acknowledging me, his eyes fixed on his phone as he scrolled through whatever useless shit had his attention. The casualness of it pissed me off even more.

"I swear, if you so much as put a scratch on it, I'll fucking kill you," I snarled, storming toward them.

Clark chuckled, swinging his legs off the side before hopping down. "Yeah, yeah. Big bad Zion and his precious Lambo. We get it."

I feel her before I see her. That's the worst part about being drawn to someone you have no business being drawn to-you sense them like a shadow in your bloodstream, an unshakable awareness settling deep in your bones. My soul whispers what my mind refuses to acknowledge.

"Heads up. Little stepsister alert," Clark mutters with a smirk, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. 

"And damn, she's looking hot as fuck. You'd never guess she got the shit beaten out of her a few days ago."

His words make something coil tight in my chest, but I keep my expression blank, leaning back against my car. 

I feel the shift in the air a second before Winter steps out of the house. The world doesn't stop, but my pulse does, a brief stutter before it picks up at an uneven rhythm. She moves down the steps, balancing a few books in her arms, her bag slung over one shoulder. 

Her hair-golden strands falling in soft waves catch the morning light, illuminating her delicate features. Even beneath the layers of makeup, I can still see the faint traces of bruising. She's trying to cover the damage, but exhaustion lingers in the shadows under her eyes.

The worst part?

She still looks beautiful.

Like the perfect mix of a drug, she rushes through my veins, sending a dose of adrenaline and something far deadlier through my system. I hate how my body reacts to her. It makes me weak. And I don't do weak.

She looked... different. Not because of the makeup she'd carefully applied to mask the bruises. Not because of the way her hair framed her delicate features. But because, for the first time in a long time, there was a determined set to her expression, a fire in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

So I use the one thing that keeps me sharp. The edge.

A smirk tugs at my lips as I call out, loud enough for her to hear, 

"Hey, Snowflake. Guess you didn't take my advice and stay home." 

I pause, letting my gaze flicker over her outfit simple, fitted top that hugs her curves and jeans that make her legs look long. Not overly flashy, but enough to catch attention. 

Enough to have at least three guys drooling and scrambling for her number the second she steps onto campus. And when she sees the little surprise I’ve got waiting for her? That attention will shift into something much worse.

*Fuck… guys chasing after her, wanting her number.*

*No. Stop it. Stop thinking about that.*

*You did the right thing.*

I tilt my head, eyes gleaming with mock sympathy. 

"Don’t come crying to me when the rumours start spiralling, and Cindy and her crew hone in on you."

She exhales sharply, her nostrils flaring as her jaw tightens. A flicker of something-anger, defiance burns in her eyes. She steps closer, not backing down, her chin lifting just slightly like she refuses to give me the satisfaction of seeing her break.

"Don't flatter yourself," she spits, her voice laced with venom.

"I'd rather crawl through hell barefoot than ever come crying to you." She tilts her head, eyes flashing with defiance. 

I keep my smirk in place, even as something in my chest twists.

I barely had time to retort, before an engine revving, followed by the sound of tyres crunching against the pavement. A sleek car pulled up beside mine, coming to a smooth halt. A second later, Claire stepped out, her eyes instantly finding Winter.

"Oh my God," she breathed, rushing over to pull Winter into a hug. 

"I can't believe you're insisting on going to college today. I swear, I can bunk with you. We can binge-watch some trashy shows, eat popcorn and ice cream-make a whole thing out of it."

Winter shook her head, her eyes flicking briefly to me before settling back on Claire. 

"No," she said firmly. 

"I want this. And I don't care what people say when they see me."

My jaw tightened as a wave of unease crept up my spine.

She had no idea.

For a moment, I froze.

My throat went dry, my grip tightening around the strap of my bag. She looked at me, her gaze unreadable, and something twisted deep in my gut.

Because I knew.

The second she stepped foot onto campus, nothing would ever be the same again.

No idea what people were going to say. No idea what they had already seen.

And the worst part?

There wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it now.

And as much as I tell myself this is what I wanted, that she deserves every second of it...

There's a sinking feeling in my gut.

Something tells me I might've just made the biggest mistake of my life.