CHAPTER 155

**WINTER**

Four figures emerge from the shadows, their movements slow, deliberate. The faint glow from the stage lights catches on their faces as they step forward, and my stomach twists the moment I recognize them.

The Royal Crew.

Zion moves ahead of the others, his steps measured, purposeful. He stops at the mic, his expression unreadable—grim, determined.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I brace myself, every muscle in my body tensing. Whatever he’s about to say… I already know it’s going to wreck me all over again.

But then-

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A loud boom echoes through the auditorium speakers, making several students jump in their seats.

"Testing, testing-one, two, three," Clark's voice rings out, casual as ever.

Zion turns his head so fast I think he might snap his neck. His glare is lethal.

"What the fuck?" he mutters, barely holding back his frustration.

The mic is on.

Every single person in the auditorium hears it. The sound echoes through the speakers, bouncing off the walls, followed by a ripple of muffled laughter from the audience.

Clark just shrugs, looking completely unbothered.

"What? I'm just making sure it works, man. You don't wanna start pouring your heart out, only for no one to hear you. That'd be embarrassing."

A few students chuckle.

Ro crosses his arms, nodding thoughtfully, like he's actually considering Clark's point. Then, in a deep, solemn voice, he says,

"Yeah. Imagine all this emotional buildup. You finally bare your soul, confess every regret, every ounce of pain you've caused, only for the mic to-"

He claps his hands together-BANG-and then makes a loud, glitchy static noise.

"Khhh-sorry, folks, technical difficulties. Zion will resume his tragic downfall in just a moment."

This time, everyone laughs.

Even some of the professors in the back shake their heads, clearly trying to hold back amusement.

Zion inhales sharply, gripping the mic so tightly I'm surprised it doesn't snap in half.

He closes his eyes for a brief second, probably contemplating murder, before looking back at them with pure exhausted rage.

Harry groans beside them, rubbing a hand down his face.

"Jesus Christ, can we not? He's about to do something serious, and you two are acting like idiots."

Clark scoffs. "Hey, we're the idiots? Need I remind you that-"

“Enough! Shut the fuck up!” Zion’s voice booms through the speakers, raw with frustration, vibrating through the mic like a thunderclap. His glare is murderous, his jaw clenched so tight it looks like he’s seconds away from losing it.

Clark lifts his hands in surrender. Ro just gives him an innocent, encouraging nod, like he's actually rooting for him.

From beside me, Claire whispers just loud enough for Ariel and me to hear,

"And to think, I share DNA with that moron."

Ariel lets out a soft giggle, and despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips.

Zion inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's questioning all his life choices.

"Just... let me do this." His voice is dangerously close to breaking.

Clark raises his hands in surrender.

"Fine, fine. Go ahead, lover boy."

Zion exhales hard, turns back to the mic, and looks at me again.

The laughter fades.

The mood shifts.

This time, nothing interrupts.

The entire auditorium falls into silence.

And despite the tension, despite the way my stomach is twisted in a million knots...

I almost-almost-smile.

Zion clears his throat, his gaze locking onto mine.

"Snowflake...."

For a second, the world feels too small, too quiet, like it's just the two of us standing here, tangled in the wreckage of everything he's done.

Then-rustling.

Loud, obnoxious paper rustling.

Clark shuffles through a thick stack of papers, flipping them dramatically before slamming them down in front of Zion.

The sound booms through the speakers, echoing across the auditorium like a gunshot.

Zion blinks. The entire room is silent, waiting.

He stares at the papers.

Then at Clark.

Then, back at the papers.

"...What the fuck is this?" His voice is flat, but thanks to the mic, it thunders through the hall, loud enough that some students actually flinch.

Clark beams, completely unaffected. "Your speech."

Zion glares. "I don't need a fucking speech."

Clark sighs, like he's the one dealing with nonsense.

"Oh, excuse me for trying to help. I spent all night writing that."

Zion runs a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like kill me now.

"I don't need a fucking speech, Clark."

Clark huffs, yanking the papers back.

"Fine. But if your speech flops, don't come crying to me." He dramatically folds them and tucks them into his jacket like they're sacred documents.

The auditorium ripples with snickers and stifled laughter.

Beside me, Claire leans in, her voice dripping with exasperation but just low enough for Ariel and me to hear.

"For fuck’s sake, you’d think the so-called Royal morons would have the basic sense to cover the damn mic."

I press my lips together, trying to hold back a smile. Even Ariel lets out a soft giggle beside me.

Up on stage, Zion clenches his jaw, flexing his fingers like he's physically restraining himself from strangling his so-called friends.

Zion exhales sharply, his glare cutting through them all before snapping back to me. His expression shifts-back to something serious.

The room settles.

And this time, nothing interrupts.

And then he speaks.

Zion exhales sharply, gripping the mic like it’s the only thing keeping him standing. His voice, when he speaks, is rough—strained with something that sounds dangerously close to regret.

“I ruined the most precious relationship I had.” His jaw tics, his knuckles white against the mic stand. “And for what?” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I couldn’t see straight. Because my mind was so fucking clogged with vengeance that I didn’t stop to think. I assumed. I let my anger fester until it turned into something ugly, something I threw at you without a second thought.”

He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily.

“You meant the world to me, Snowflake. And instead of trusting you—I turned you into my enemy.” His voice wavers, but he doesn’t stop.

“I wanted you to hurt. I wanted you to feel as broken as I felt, and I didn’t care how cruel I had to be to make that happen.”

A pause. A long, suffocating silence where he swallows hard, his gaze never leaving mine.

“But you never deserved that,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Zion’s eyes flicker away from mine, sweeping over the silent auditorium, as if letting the weight of his own actions settle in the air around him. But then, just as quickly, his gaze snaps back to me—steady, unflinching.

“From the moment Snowflake stepped foot in this place,” he begins, his voice raw,

“I’ve been nothing but a fucking disgrace.”

The silence in the hall is suffocating.

His jaw clenches, his blue eyes burning as they stay locked on mine. "I blamed her for something she never even did. I hated her for it. And because of that, I turned her life into a fucking nightmare."

I feel like I can't breathe.

"She was my best friend," he says, voice breaking slightly.

"She meant the world to me, and what did I do?" His expression twists with self-loathing.

"“I ripped her apart,” Zion grits out, his voice laced with self-loathing. “I tore her down, humiliated her, made her life a living hell—all because of a fucking assumption.” His jaw clenches, his grip on the mic tightening. “Because I was too blinded by my own rage to see the truth. Too fucking stupid to stop and ask questions before I decided to ruin her.”

A ripple of whispers moves through the crowd, but Zion doesn't stop.

"I've spent months making her life hell," Zion continues, his voice thick with something I can't quite name-anger, regret, something deeper that makes my chest tighten.

"I let my own fucked-up version of what I thought happened fester inside me. I let it turn me into someone I don't even recognize."

His eyes never leave mine, and for once, there's no arrogance in them.

"I put her through hell in gym class," he says, his voice lower now, rougher.

"I made sure she was isolated, that she had nowhere to belong. I stood back while the cheerleaders ripped her apart, let the whole school treat her like she was nothing. I wanted her to feel unwelcome. I wanted her to feel every ounce of the pain I thought she caused me."

His grip tightens on the mic, his shoulders rigid, like he's barely holding himself together.

"Because it was easy." His voice cracks slightly, but he pushes forward.

"Because hurting her was easier than facing the truth. Easier than admitting that I was wrong. That I destroyed the one person who-"

He cuts himself off, shaking his head.

A bitter chuckle escapes him, but it's not mocking. It's filled with self-loathing, thick with the weight of his own actions. He drops his gaze briefly, his fingers flexing at his sides before he drags his eyes back up to mine.

The hall is dead silent.

No whispers. No side conversations.

He inhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before his gaze finds mine again.

"Those pictures." His voice is steel now.

"The ones that destroyed her reputation." He swallows hard,

"They were fake."

A collective gasp echoes through the hall.

My stomach lurches.

"I took them without her knowing," Zion continues, his voice laced with bitter regret.

“She was asleep —half-conscious, pumped full of painkillers—and I still chose to do it,” Zion grinds out, his voice thick with regret.

“I twisted the truth. Made it look like something happened that never did.
She didn't even know I was taking them. But I posted it anyway. I twisted the story, painted her as something she wasn’t, let everyone believe she was..." His voice catches, and he looks away for a split second, jaw clenching before he forces himself to meet my gaze again.

"A whore, when in reality…” His voice catches, raw with something he can’t swallow down, but he forces himself to keep going.

“She was innocent.”

My hands shake. My breath shudders.

"I ruined her life," he says, voice thick with something I've never heard from him before. Regret. Shame. Desperation.

"I fed into every lie, every rumor, and I never stopped. I stood back and watched as people tore her apart. And when she still wouldn't break-when she still had the strength to fight-I doubled down. I made it worse."

His chest rises and falls unevenly, his eyes burning into mine.

"I destroyed the one person who ever truly gave a shit about me." He exhales shakily.

"And I will never forgive myself for it."

The weight of his words presses down on me like a thousand bricks.

The whole hall is silent. Not a whisper, not a breath.

Because for the first time since this nightmare began... the truth is out.

And I don't know whether to run-or shatter.

Zion's jaw tightens, his chest rising and falling unevenly, but his eyes-his haunted eyes-never leave mine.

The silence in the hall is suffocating, the weight of his confession pressing down on everyone.

But then, he takes a slow breath. And when he speaks, his voice is lower, rougher-like he's speaking only to me.

"I wish I could take it all back." His fingers flex against the mic stand, his knuckles white.

"Every cruel word. Every lie I let spread. Every time I stood by and watched you struggle when I should've been the one standing beside you."

His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

"I was angry. So fucking angry. And I let that anger consume me, blind me. I convinced myself you had betrayed me. That you deserved the hell I put you through."

His voice breaks slightly, but he doesn't stop.

"I blamed you for something you didn't do. Easier than facing the fact that I lost you because of me. I let my own insecurities, my own pain, turn me into someone I never wanted to be."

A deep, shaky exhale leaves him, his eyes glistening under the harsh spotlight.

"I destroyed your reputation. I let them call you names, let them look at you like you were nothing. And all the while, I knew the truth."

My breath hitches.

Zion's hands shake as he runs one through his hair.

"You were never nothing, Snowflake." His voice is almost a whisper now.

"You were everything. My best friend. The one person who saw me-not the arrogant asshole everyone else saw, but me. And I repaid that by turning you into a joke. By tearing you down."

His lips press together, and for the first time, Zion looks breakable.

"You didn't deserve that." His voice is thick with emotion, and I can see the struggle in his face, the war raging behind his eyes.

"You deserved kindness. You deserved protection. And instead, I made you feel alone."

A sharp breath leaves him as he grips the mic tighter.

"I can't change what I did. I can't erase the pain I caused. But if I could-fuck, if I could-I would go back and burn every single lie to the ground before they ever had the chance to touch you. I would. "

The hall is silent. No one dares to move.

"I don't expect forgiveness," Zion admits, his voice cracking slightly.

"Hell, I don't deserve it. But I needed you to know the truth. All of it."

His eyes lock onto mine again, desperate, pleading.

"I want you to know how fucking sorry, I am Snowflake." His voice is nothing more than a whisper now, but it carries through the silence like a scream.

"For everything."

And just like that, the boy who made my life hell-who ruined me-stands in front of me, unraveled.

And I don't know what to do.