CHAPTER 138

**ZION**

“What the fuck is your problem?” I snapped, rubbing my jaw where Harry’s fist was connected. My blood is still hot, still boiling, but I force myself to stay still, to rein it in.

Harry glares at me, chest heaving, fists still clenched like he’s debating whether to swing again. 

“My problem?” he repeats, his voice sharp with disbelief. 

“Are you fucking serious right now, Zion?”

I roll my shoulders, irritation crawling under my skin. "Yeah, I’m fucking serious. You came at me like I killed your damn dog. Mind explaining why you just lost your shit?"

Harry lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. "You don’t get it, do you?" He shakes his head, eyes burning with anger. "I can’t believe you’d stoop this low. Those pictures—anyone with a brain, anyone who looked, could see she was sleeping."

He steps closer, voice dropping to something colder, sharper. "Tell me, Z—how far were you willing to take this? How much worse were you gonna make it before you decided she’d suffered enough?"

A tense silence hangs in the air before one of the football players mutters, "Yeah, man, this is messed up."

Another shifts uncomfortably. "I thought it was just a joke… but this? This is fucked."

Harry's gaze snaps to the football team, still standing there like they’re watching a damn show. 

"The hell are you all looking at?" he barks. 

"Get the fuck out of here."

They hesitate, and a few exchange glances before one of them mutters something under his breath. Harry takes a step toward them, jaw clenched. 

"I said, fuck off." This time, they scatter, some laughing, some whispering, but none of them willing to meet his glare.

He turns back to me, fury still blazing in his eyes. 

"How could you sink this low, Z?"

My jaw tightens. "Low?" I scoff, crossing my arms. 

"Since when do you give a damn about Winter? Last I checked, you weren’t exactly lining up to be her knight in shining armour."

Harry takes a step closer, eyes locked onto mine. 

“This isn’t about me liking or not liking her, Zion. This is about you crossing a fucking line. About you doing something so vile, so disgusting, that I can’t even look at you without feeling sick.”

I sneer, my anger clawing its way up my throat. “Don’t act like you know shit, Harry. You have no idea what went down between us.”

“Oh, I know enough,” he shoots back, his voice razor-sharp. “I know you took pictures of her while she was asleep. I know you made it look like you fucked her and plastered that shit online for the entire school to see. And I know you did it out of fucking spite.” His expression hardens. 

"Tell me I’m wrong, Zion."

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because what the hell am I supposed to say?

Harry scoffs, shaking his head. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

I take a deep breath, forcing a smirk even though my pulse is hammering in my ears.

"She lied, Harry," I say, my voice low and controlled.

"She lied." The words taste like acid on my tongue, my jaw clenching around them.

Harry lets out a sharp, humourless laugh. "Oh, we know she lied. You’ve said it enough times. But tell me, Z—how many times do you plan to make her pay for it?"

He steps closer, eyes burning with something I don’t want to name. "One mistake, one lie, and you’ve been dragging her through hell since the second she walked through these doors. And for what? To prove a point? To make her suffer? Congratulations, man. You won. You crushed her. So tell me—feel better now?"

I let out a humourless chuckle, shaking my head. 

“You think what I did was bad? She destroyed my family, Harry. She ripped it apart with her lies, and you expect me to just let that slide?” My voice tightens, rough with something I refuse to name. 

“I only ruined her image. That’s nothing compared to what I lost.”

Harry’s eyes flash with disgust. “And that justifies this?” He gestures wildly, his voice rising. “You humiliated her in front of the whole school, turned her into a fucking joke, and you still think you’re the victim here?”

I meet his glare, my fingers twitching at my sides. “I lost everything because of her,” I grind out. “So yeah, I wanted her to feel even a fraction of what I did. And I don’t regret it. I wanted”

Even as I say it, something ugly twists in my gut.

“She fucked me over, so I gave her a taste of her own medicine.”

Harry’s nostrils flare. “A taste?” He takes another step closer, his voice dangerously low. “You humiliated her. You tried to ruin her. That’s not revenge, that’s just being a fucking piece of shit.”

My jaw ticks. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same if it were you.”

His expression darkens. “That’s the difference between us, Zion. I wouldn’t.”

For a moment, neither of us speak. The air between us is thick and heavy with unspoken words and years of knowing each other better than anyone.

And for the first time in a long time, I realize—I might’ve fucked up.

Harry shakes his head, looking at me like he doesn’t even recognize me anymore. 

"I used to think you were better than this," Harry mutters, his voice tight with disappointment. "Guess I was wrong."

And for the first time since this whole thing started… I feel something dangerously close to regret.

I push it down, bury it deep. "You don’t get it because you’re not in my shoes, cousin," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I’m the one who lost everything because of her."

Harry lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair as he takes a step back. His glare is like a knife, cutting through me without hesitation.

"You’re unbelievable," he spits. "You act like you’re the only one who’s ever been hurt. Like your pain justifies this." He gestures sharply, his voice rising. "Newsflash, Zion—losing something doesn’t give you the right to destroy someone else. Do you think you’re the victim? Fine. But that doesn’t make you the fucking executioner."

He shakes his head, disgust flickering in his eyes. "I don’t know what the hell she did to you. And honestly? I don’t fucking care anymore."

My jaw tightens. "Of course you don’t—"

"No. Shut up and listen to me," he snaps, cutting me off, his finger jabbing the air between us.

"You have no fucking idea what happened, do you?" His voice is sharp, slicing through the space between us. "You’re so goddamn set on revenge that you never even asked her. Never once stopped to consider the truth."

He steps closer, his glare unwavering. "Maybe she had her reasons. Maybe she didn’t realize the damage her actions would cause. Hell, maybe she regrets it more than you’ll ever know."

He shakes his head, exhaling harshly, his voice dropping—but the edge in it remains. "But you never cared enough to find out, did you?"

I let out a cold laugh, shaking my head. "Oh, so now I’m supposed to feel sorry for her?" I scoff, my jaw clenching. "She ruined my life, Harry. One lie—one fucking lie—and everything I had was gone. But yeah, let’s all feel bad for Winter because maybe, just maybe, she regrets it now."

My jaw clenches, anger clawing up my throat. "You expect me to believe she didn’t know exactly what she was doing? That she just made a mistake?" I step closer, my voice low, razor-sharp. 

"Well, guess what, Harry? Mistakes have consequences. And she sure as hell never cared about mine."

"But you won’t know that unless you talk to her!"

Harry’s voice cuts through the tension, but it’s his expression that gets to me—disappointment. Cold, sharp, and worse than any anger. And it pisses me off more than anything.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "I think you should go to her, Z. Talk to her. Because if you ever gave a damn about her—even for a second—you owe her that much."

His words hang between us, heavy and final. And then, without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, pulse hammering, drowning in everything I don’t want to feel.

Some of the football team still lingers nearby, shifting uncomfortably the moment my eyes land on them. The excitement from earlier is gone, snuffed out like a flame. They glance between me, Harry’s retreating figure, and their phones, their smug amusement fading as reality sets in.

Maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the hilarious scandal they thought it was.

I scowl. "Fuck off. All of you."

No one moves.

My patience snaps. "Didn’t Harry tell you to fuck off?" My voice is razor-sharp, slicing through the tension.

That gets them moving. The team scatters, muttering under their breath, but I don’t miss the way a few of them glance back at me—like they’re seeing me in a whole new light.

I don’t care.

Except… maybe I do.

I turn back to Clark and Ro, the two of them just standing there, staring at me. 

Clark shakes his head once, looking down, his lips pressing into a thin line. Ro doesn’t even bother hiding his disappointment.

They don’t have to say it.

They agree with Harry.

"Harry’s right, Z… you fucked up." His voice is heavy with disappointment as he holds up his phone. 

"This? This was a shitty move."

"Excuse me?" I growl, my glare locking onto him.

"You heard me," he fires back, eyes dark with frustration. 

"It was fucking wrong. Especially after everything she went through with Ethan. Didn’t you stop to think? After seeing these pictures, people will start believing what Ethan did to her was something she wanted. That she’s just some slut willing to fuck even her stepbrother."

Clark’s voice cuts through the tension, sharper than before, laced with something harsher than disappointment—raw, seething anger.

"I agree. She didn’t deserve this. Not the humiliation, not the whispers, and sure as hell not from you of all people."

He shakes his head, his jaw tightening, eyes dark with something dangerously close to disgust. 

"Yeah, she lied. And maybe she didn’t understand the damage that one mistake would cause. Maybe she was just a scared kid, reckless and stupid, not thinking about the consequences. But you?" He lets out a cold, bitter laugh. 

"You knew exactly what you were doing. And you still fucking did it."

He runs a hand through his hair, his expression twisting with fury. "You dragged her through the dirt like she was nothing. Like she deserved it. And for what, Z? Revenge?" His voice drops lower, sharper. 

"Was it worth it?"

I blink, my jaw tightening as a sharp, bitter taste rises in my throat. Did these bastards—my fucking friends—just talk to me like I was the problem?

What the actual fuck?

"Whatever," I snap, rolling my eyes. 

I shove past them, their judgmental stares burning into my back. I rip the door open, climb into my car, and slam it shut—hard enough to make a point.

Inside, my breathing is heavy and erratic. I try to steady it, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I did what I had to.

I shake my head, threading my fingers through my hair.

She’s nothing.

She’s everything.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears, drowning out every rational thought.

No. No. She’s nothing.

Fine.

I’ll tell her why I did what I did.

I’ll remind her.

Then she’ll understand. Then she’ll know why I had to do this.