CHAPTER 152

**ZION**

She was gone.

And I just stood there like a fucking idiot, watching her disappear into the night.

But before she left—before she ran from me like I was some kind of goddamn disease—I saw it. The way she looked at me. 

Completely wrecked, devastated beyond words… yet somehow, there was still rage burning in her eyes.

Like I was both the worst mistake of her life and the one thing she wished she could erase from existence.

How the fuck was I supposed to fix this?

The sound of the party was nothing more than a dull hum in the background now, muffled laughter and music carrying from the house. But I wasn’t in the mood to go back. I wasn’t in the mood for anything.

Without another thought, I turned on my heel and headed for my car, my movements stiff, my mind a fucking mess. I yanked the door open and dropped into the driver’s seat, but I didn’t start the engine right away.

I just sat there.

Her words thundered in my skull, relentless, unforgiving.

"I've never hated anyone more than I hate you."

It wasn’t just what she said—it was the way she said it. The venom in her voice. The fire in her eyes. Like I had finally, truly, and irreparably broken her.

A hollow, suffocating ache coiled in my gut, twisting tighter with every passing second, like a vice around my ribs.

I sat there, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned bone-white, the leather groaning beneath my fingers. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out everything else—the distant hum of the party, the roar of my own ragged breathing.

The pressure in my chest swelled, rising higher and higher, a dam threatening to break.

And then—

BANG.

My fist slammed into the dashboard, the impact rattling through my arm, but the pain barely registered. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough.

“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!”

The curses ripped from my throat, raw and guttural, shattering the silence around me. They bounced off the car’s interior, swallowed by the empty night, but nothing could drown out the truth of what I had done.

I had destroyed her.

And for the first time, the weight of that realization crushed me.

I had never felt so fucking powerless in my life.

Jaw clenched, I reached for the ignition and turned the key, the engine roaring to life. Without another second of hesitation, I peeled out of the driveway, heading straight home.

But no matter how fast I drove, no matter how hard I gripped the wheel, one thing stayed with me—

The look in Winter’s eyes as she walked away.

..........

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I sped down the dark roads, the streetlights flashing past in a blur. The sound of the tyres against the pavement, the low hum of the engine—it should have been enough to drown out my thoughts.

It wasn’t.

Her voice was still there. I've never hated anyone more than I hate you.

I gritted my teeth, pressing harder on the gas, the speedometer creeping higher.

The rage simmering beneath my skin wasn’t just for myself—it was for them. For every single person who had helped me hurt her. For every whisper, every cruel laugh, every fucking thing I had let happen.

I should have protected her.

Instead, I was the one who destroyed her.

My hands flexed over the wheel, my jaw locked so tight it ached. How the fuck was I supposed to fix this?

By the time I pulled into my driveway, my pulse was still hammering, my mind a chaotic mess of memories and regret.

I killed the engine, sitting there in the suffocating silence. My fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel before curling into a fist.

I had two choices.

Let her walk away for good.

Or do whatever the fuck it took to make her see that I wasn’t the same bastard who broke her.

The problem?

I wasn’t sure if I even knew how to be the man she deserved.

I stormed into the mansion, barely acknowledging the dim lighting and the faint hum of the refrigerator as I yanked it open. My pulse was still erratic, my mind spinning in a hundred different directions—all leading back to her.

Snowflake.

I grabbed the first thing I saw—a can of beer—ripped the tab open, and took a deep swig. The cold bitterness slid down my throat, but it didn’t do shit to settle the storm inside me. I needed something stronger. Something to drown out the way she’d looked at me.

Like I was nothing.

Like I’d meant nothing.

Gritting my teeth, I downed the rest in a few hard gulps, then hurled the empty can across the kitchen. It clattered against the counter and hit the floor with a dull thud.

"What the hell, Zion?"

I turned to see my mother standing at the entrance, arms crossed, a mixture of exhaustion and disappointment on her face.

"Not now, Mom," I muttered, running a hand through my hair, the frustration buzzing beneath my skin.

She sighed, stepping further inside. “Did you talk to Winter?”

My jaw tensed. Talk? Yeah, if that’s what you called her ripping me apart before running off into the night.

“I hope you two worked things out,” she continued, oblivious to the fact that I was seconds away from combusting. 

“Didn’t she come back with you?”

My head snapped up.

Didn’t she come back with me?

My stomach dropped. I checked my phone, the time glaring back at me. She'd left the party nearly two hours ago.

Two hours.

I had been driving aimlessly, lost in my own bullshit, while she had been out there—alone.

Fuck. Fuck.

She had no car. She had left her shoe behind. And I just let her walk away.

Panic clawed up my throat. 

I shoved past my mother, already heading for the door. I needed to find her. I shouldn’t have let her go, not at that time of night, not after everything that had happened.

Just as I reached for the handle, the front door swung open.

And there she was.

Winter stood in the doorway, her hair slightly dishevelled, her arms crossed, and her lips parted as if she hadn’t expected to see me standing there. Her dress was a little wrinkled, her feet bare—probably from ditching her other shoe.

I exhaled sharply, relief crashing into me so hard I nearly staggered.

She was okay.

But the moment our eyes met, I knew—she wasn’t.

“Oh my God, Winter, are you okay?” Mom rushes toward her, worry etched into every line of her face.

Winter’s eyes flick away from mine. “I’m fine, Jenny,” she murmurs, but her voice is too soft, too lifeless.

I lift a hand, pressing it to my chest as if that’ll do anything to steady the chaos inside me. But when I finally force myself to look at her, it’s like getting punched in the gut.

Her blue eyes—so fucking bright, so full of fire—are dim, drowning in something so heavy it spills out and floods the room. It suffocates me, wrapping around my throat and squeezing the air from my lungs.

You did this.

Her face pales, her lashes fluttering rapidly like she’s fighting back tears.

No, no, no.

I want to say something, to reach out, to fucking fix this—fix her—but I can’t. My throat locks up, my body frozen under the weight of what I’ve done.

“I… I have homework to do, Jenny,” Winter says suddenly, her voice strained, almost breathless. 

“I’m going to my room.”

And then she turns, taking the stairs two at a time like she can’t get away fast enough.

I watch her go, my chest twisting so hard I nearly double over.

She ran.

I clutch at my chest, but it doesn’t stop the ache, doesn’t stop the brutal, gnawing hollowness that’s spreading through me.

I broke her.

I made her run.

And worst of all—

I don’t know if she’ll ever stop running.

I move before I can talk myself out of it, heading up the stairs to her room.

I know she doesn’t want to see me. 

Hell, I don’t even want to see me. But I have to apologize. I have to tell her how sorry I am.

When I reach her door, I hesitate, staring at the wood like it holds the answer to fixing this. 

My heartbeat is erratic, hammering so hard it echoes in my ears. My hands shake as I grab the doorknob, twisting it open with barely any pressure.

She didn’t even lock it.

Something about that realization makes my stomach lurch.

Is it because she’s given up? Or because she doesn’t care anymore?

Neither answer sits well.

I step inside, quietly pushing the door shut behind me, and my eyes find her immediately.

She’s curled up on the bed, knees tucked tightly to her chest, arms wrapped even tighter around them—like she’s trying to hold herself together.

Like she doesn’t trust anyone else to do it.

She doesn’t look up as I approach and doesn’t even flinch when I sit on the edge of the mattress.

"I’m sorry, Snowflake," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve disappointed you. I’ve disappointed myself. I… I didn’t want to hurt you, and that wasn’t…"

I trail off because saying that wasn’t my intention would be the biggest goddamn lie.

It was my intention.

I wanted to hurt her.

Because I thought she was the cause of my pain.

"Don’t lie," she murmurs, finally lifting her head.

Her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, lock onto mine with a fury so laced in sorrow it feels like I’m being gutted from the inside out. Tears streak her cheeks, silent evidence of everything I’ve done.

"You wanted to hurt me," she continues, her voice shaking. 

"You promised to. And guess what? You did it. Zion Royal broke another girl’s heart. Congratu-fucking-lations."

The bitterness in her voice cuts deep, each word a blade pressed against my skin.

“I won’t lie,” I admit, my throat tight. 

“I did want this. I wanted you hurt. I wanted you broken. But that was before I realized…”  

God, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“Before I realized you weren’t the one who caused my misery.”

Winter lets out a hollow, humourless laugh, fresh tears sliding down her face. 

"Because you never bothered to ask,” she croaks. 

“You just assumed. You made me the villain in your twisted little story, and that was it.”

More tears slip down her face, but she doesn’t look away. She wants me to see it. To feel it.

And I do.

God, I do.

I move before I can stop myself, reaching for her instinctively.

But the second my fingers brush her skin, she lashes out, slapping my hands away with enough force to sting.

"Don’t touch me," she grits out, her whole body trembling. 

"Don’t ever touch me."

Then she shoves me—hard.

I don’t stop her.

Not when her tiny fists ball up and collide with my chest. Not when her hands shake from the force of it.

Not when I realize—this is what heartbreak feels like.

“Do you have any idea what it was like walking home? The catcalls I got because of those damn pictures?” Her voice is venomous, sharp enough to flay me open. 

“Some even asked how much I charge per night. If they could get a discount because—” 

She choked on a breath, shaking her head, rage and humiliation twisting across her face. 

Her breath shudders out of her, her fists dropping to her sides like she’s run out of energy to fight me. But her glare is still sharp enough to cut.

“Because you turned me into some kind of whore.”

My lungs squeeze painfully, my entire body locking up.

“Snowflake —”

“Get out.” she croaks, voice breaking on the last syllable. 

"I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this. Just go."

Her broken voice shatters the last piece of me.

So I do the only thing I can.

I walk out.

I don’t remember walking to my room.

One second, I was standing outside Winter’s door, her broken voice ringing in my ears. The next, I was here—staring at the walls, fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms.

Everything felt… wrong.

The air in my chest was too thick. My skin was too tight. My thoughts were too fucking loud.

Winter’s words echoed over and over, burrowing under my ribs like shards of glass.

"You turned me into some kind of whore."

My stomach churned violently.

I HAVE TO FIX THIS!

With a sharp inhale, I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone with shaky fingers. The screen blurred for a second before my vision cleared, and I tapped into the Royal Crew’s WhatsApp group.

My jaw locked. My pulse pounded.

Then, before I could stop myself, my fingers flew across the screen.

SOS! GET THE FUCK IN HERE. NOW.

I hit send.

And then I waited.