CHAPTER 142

**ZION (Present)**

"You swore you'd keep your mouth shut," I growl, my voice rough with fury. 

"I begged you to let it go—to believe me—but you just had to run your damn mouth. And because of you—" My breath hitches, but I force the words out, each one slicing through the air like a blade. 

"My dad is dead."

Winter freezes.

Her lips part, but no sound comes out. It’s like I’ve knocked the air from her lungs like she’s suddenly forgotten how to breathe. 

Good. Let it sink in. Let her feel it.

Her voice is barely a whisper, so small I almost don’t hear it. "What?"

"You heard me." My voice is cold and sharp, but inside—inside, I am burning. I am unravelling.

"You ruined everything" I take a step closer, my breath ragged, my heart a violent thunder in my chest. 

"My family. My life."

Her head shakes, slowly at first, then faster, like she’s trying to physically reject my words. But there’s no taking them back. There’s no undoing what she’s done.

"No. That’s not true."

"You think I’d make this up?" I snapped, my voice rising.

"I never told anyone!" she burst out, her chest heaving. 

"I never said anything! I promised you, Zion. And I kept my promise!"

"Liar! You broke your fucking promise." My voice is a growl, raw and full of rage. 

"You couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut", 

Winter stiffens, her breath hitching, but she doesn’t back down. I see the quickening pulse at her throat, the way her fingers tremble at her sides. Is she scared? 

"I never told anyone."

Her voice is shaky but firm, her blue eyes burning into mine, defiant even in the face of my rage.

"Bullshit." My jaw clenches as I shake my head. 

"You were the only one who knew. The only one. And somehow, my mom found out. So tell me again how you didn’t say a word."

"I don’t know how she found out, but it wasn’t me."

My fingers curl into fists at my sides. "Lies."

Winter flinches, but she doesn’t look away. 

"I kept my promise, Zion. I would never—"

"Then why the fuck did everything fall apart?" I cut her off, my voice rising, my control slipping.

Before I can stop myself, I shove her back, forcing her against the wall. A small gasp escapes her lips, but I barely hear it over the roar in my head. My chest heaves, my blood pounding, my anger a living, breathing thing.

I slam my fist against the wall beside her head, the impact rattling through my arm. 

"Tell me, Snowflake!" My voice is rough, raw. 

"If you didn’t tell my mother, then explain this—why did she say she heard it from you?"

I exhale sharply, a bitter laugh escaping as I shake my head.

"How did it happen, Snowflake? Did you go to her, all wide-eyed and innocent, acting like you were just ‘doing the right thing’?" My voice drips with venom, each word cutting deeper. 

"Did you even stop for a second to think about what would happen? About what you were destroying? Or did you just enjoy playing hero while my family fucking fell apart?"

Winter’s eyes flash, her chest rising and falling as she shakes her head, disbelief written all over her face.

"I. Didn’t. Tell. Her." Her voice is sharp, each word like a blade slicing through the air. 

"I don’t know what she told you, but it wasn’t me. I made you a promise, Zion, and I kept it."

She steps closer instead, defiance burning in her blue eyes.

"You want to believe I betrayed you because it’s easier than facing the truth," she says, her voice trembling, but strong. 

"Because if you blame me, you don’t have to wonder if maybe—just maybe—your mom already knew. Maybe she figured it out on her own. That maybe your dad wasn’t the man you thought he was."

My jaw clenches, but she keeps going, her words hitting like gunfire.

"You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to lose my best friend? To be hated by the one person I—" She cuts herself off, shaking her head like she can’t afford to finish that thought. 

"I didn’t ruin your family, Zion. And deep down, you know that. But you need a villain. And I’m just the easiest one to blame."

Her words slam into me, ripping through the wall of fury I’ve built, but I refuse to let them sink in.

I refuse.

"Then how the hell did Mom find out?"

I step even closer, and she presses herself against the wall, her breaths coming quicker. 

"She didn’t just magically wake up one day and decide to throw him out. Someone told her. Someone put the idea in her head. And you were the only one who knew." My voice is razor-sharp.

"So tell me again how it wasn’t you."

She shakes her head furiously, her blonde hair falling into her face as her lips tremble. 

"I—I don’t know, Zion."

"Bullshit!" The word explodes from me, my control snapping. My fists clench at my sides, my whole body thrumming with rage. 

"You’re fucking lying!"

Winter flinches, but she doesn’t back down. 

"I swear to you," she whispers, her voice breaking, 

"I never told her. I kept my promise. I would never do that to you."

"If it wasn’t you, then who the fuck was it?"

She shakes her head, her breath unsteady, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

"I—I don’t know…" she whispers, her voice barely holding together.

"Liar." The word is cold, final, seething with everything I can’t say. I lean in, my voice a low, deadly murmur.

"Now you get it, don’t you?" I tilt my head, watching the way she flinches, the way her chest rises and falls too fast. "Now you understand why I did what I did to you. Why did I make you suffer? Why I could never—" My throat tightens, but I force the words out, letting them cut through the space between us. 

"Never fucking forgive you."

I let the words settle between us, let the weight of them drag her down like they’ve been dragging me down for years.

"You were indirectly responsible for my dad’s death."

The words taste like acid as they leave my mouth, each one slicing through the air like a blade.

"He was upset. He was thrown out of the house… God knows what was going through his mind when he was driving—losing his home, his family… all because of you."

Winter shakes her head slowly, 

"You’re twisting everything to make me the villain because you can’t handle the truth. You can’t handle the fact that your dad made his own choices. That maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t the perfect man you’ve built him up to be."

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and merciless.

"You want to hate me so badly," she continues, her voice trembling, 

"because it’s easier than admitting that the person who destroyed your family… was your Dad."

"Don’t turn this around on him," I croak, my throat tight with emotion, with anger, with something else I can’t name.

"All the choices you made in your life led to this, Zion. Every single one. You’re trying to blame me because you can't handle the truth—that you’re the one responsible for your own pain. You chose this."

I slam my fist into the wall right beside her head, the impact rattling through my arm, making my teeth clench. She flinches, but she doesn't move.

"Do you want to see me lose control?" My voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s deadly. 

"Do you want me to hurt you?"

The thought terrifies me, but the anger is too much, too consuming. I hit the wall again, the pain in my knuckles grounding me, but when I saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, something inside me shifted.

I want her fear—but not like this. Not this kind of fear.

Winter—she just stood there, staring at me, wide-eyed and silent.

I should have felt satisfaction seeing the shock on her face, the way she paled at my words. But I didn’t.

All I felt was the same festering anger that had been eating me alive for years.

"Maybe Jenny already knew. Maybe she had her suspicions. Maybe—"

"Maybe nothing." My voice was quieter now, but no less lethal. 

"You were the only one who knew, Winter. You. And somehow, my mother found out. So tell me again how it wasn’t you."

Her lips parted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I swear to you, I didn’t break my promise. I never told her."

I wanted to believe her.

God, I wanted to believe her so badly it hurt.

But I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

"I trusted you," I said, my voice raw, hollow. 

"I trusted you more than anyone. And you—" 

My breath came out sharp, unsteady. I ran a hand through my hair, 

"You took everything from me."

She sucked in a breath like I’d physically hit her. 

"That’s not fair."

"Not fair?" A sharp, humourless laugh left my lips. "Not fair?" I stepped closer, barely able to think past the suffocating weight in my chest. 

"Do you know what’s not fair, Snowflake? Losing my father because of a lie. Watching my mother break apart. Feeling like I have to live in the shadow of something I can never fix. That’s what’s not fair."

"I didn’t do this, Zion," she hissed.

"But you did," I shot back. "Whether you meant to or not, you did."

Something in her cracked.

And then she wasn’t just standing there, taking it.

She was fighting back.

"You want to blame me?" she demanded, her voice shaking with anger now, 

"Fine. Blame me. Hate me. Turn me into the monster in your story if that makes it easier for you."

I stilled, something shifting inside me.

"But the truth, Zion?" Her voice wavered, but she held my gaze like she was daring me to look away. 

"The truth is that the only villain here is you."

The air left my lungs in one sharp breath.

"You let your hatred for me eat away at you until there was nothing left," she continued, her chest rising and falling too fast. 

"And you know what? I don’t care anymore. I don’t care what lies you’ve convinced yourself of. I have nothing to do with this. I am innocent." Her voice cracked. 

"You’ve made my life a living hell for something I didn’t even do."

I stared at her.

And for a split second—just a second—I felt something crack in my resolve.

"I can’t do this right now," 

"Snowflake —"

"No." She cut me off, her voice sharp, final. 

"I’m done, Zion."

And in that split second, she takes her chance. She shoves past me, her breathing uneven, and within seconds, she’s gone.

"Snowflake!" My voice slices through the air as I stalk after her, my blood still boiling. 

"Get back here!"

She doesn’t stop. 

Just keeps walking, her shoulders trembling, her breath ragged.

I move faster, ready to grab her, to make her face me, to force her to admit what she did—

But then—

"Zion."

The voice stops me cold.

I whip around, my chest heaving, my vision hazy with fury, only to find Mom standing there.

Her expression is unreadable, her lips pressed into a tight line, but there’s something in her eyes—something that makes the ground beneath me feel suddenly unsteady.

"She didn’t tell me," Mom says, her voice quiet, solemn. 

"Winter kept her promise."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

No, that’s not possible.

My jaw tightens, my fists clenching, my entire body locked in place, unable to move, unable to breathe. 

"What?" The word barely escapes, hoarse and unsteady.

"She never told me, Zion"