CHAPTER 162
**ZION**
The moment I step inside, it’s like crossing into enemy territory.
Every instinct screams at me to turn around, to walk right back out that door before this gets worse. But something heavier—something deeper—keeps me rooted in place.
Snowflake…
I don’t know if coming here is the right choice, but leaving? Walking away without seeing her?
That’s not an option. Not anymore.
Clark’s house is familiar—expensive leather couches, a massive TV, and a coffee table cluttered with things no one bothers to move.
Sunlight filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp shadows across the hardwood floor. It’s the same house I’ve walked into a hundred times, always at ease.
We’ve wasted hours here—talking shit, killing time But today, it feels different. Like the walls are closing in, waiting for the storm that’s about to hit.
Laughter floats down from the stairs—light, carefree.
Snowflake… so close, yet completely out of reach.
Then Claire appears, descending the stairs with that effortless grace she always carries, tossing her hair over her shoulder mid-step, a smile still playing on her lips—
Until she sees us.
The smile vanishes. Her whole body goes rigid, stopping so suddenly it’s like someone hit pause.
Her grip tightens on the railing, her jaw going slack for half a second before snapping shut again.
Her eyes flick between us, something unreadable flashing across her face. Then, she glances back up the stairs before her gaze snaps back to me—sharp, accusing.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she mutters, not even bothering to be subtle.
Then her entire expression hardens, and she storms the rest of the way down, heels clicking against the floor with the force of a death march.
She doesn’t shout.
She doesn’t ask questions.
She just stops in front of us, crosses her arms, and deadpans:
“Alright,” she drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I have a very important question, and I want you all to think long and hard before you answer.” She folds her arms.
“Why The Hell Are The Royal Morons Infesting My House?”
Clark snorts. “Our house.”
“Seriously. What’s happening here? Did you all hit your heads at the same time? Was there some kind of mass delusion that led you to believe you’re welcome in my sacred space?”
Her glare snaps to Ro.
“You. What, did you run out of things to ruin? Thought to yourself, ‘Hmm, Claire seems too happy—better go darken her doorstep and make her life miserable’? Because if so, congrats—you’re nailing it.”
“Gotta keep things exciting. Besides, what’s life without a little chaos?” Ro says as he steps forward, eyes glinting with mischief.
“And you know, Claire, if I didn’t show up, you’d probably get bored. Who else would keep you on your toes?”
Claire gives him a pointed look, her expression dripping with sarcasm.
“Try existing somewhere far, far away from me. Now that would be thrilling.”
Ro raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.
“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you secretly like me and only put on this act…”
“Oh for god’s sake, stop flirting with my sister!” Clark groans, rubbing his face.
Claire smirks, her eyes glinting with amusement.
"Oh, you're right. I like... a lot... I really like the idea of shoving my heel up your ass, or better yet, I like the idea of throwing you to some crocodiles... Or, I’d like to add something else to the list, but I think you get the point."
Harry coughs to cover a laugh.
Then her eyes snap to me, and whatever amusement she had disappears.
Her shoulders go rigid, and when she speaks, her voice drops, sharp and lethal.
“And you.”
I hold her gaze, bracing myself.
“Whatever this is? Whatever dumb, reckless, feelings-fueled mission you’re on? Abort. Turn around. Leave. Before things get messy.”
I exhale slowly, meeting her glare head-on.
“Not fucking happening.”
She scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping her lips
“Really? Because unless you’re here to donate a vital organ, I can’t think of a single reason why you should be breathing in this vicinity.”
I exhale slowly. “I just want to—”
“Oh! Ohhh. Let me guess.” She presses a hand to her chest, eyes widening mockingly.
“You’re sorry.”
Clark mutters under his breath, “Here we go…”
Claire shoots him a glare before turning back to me.
“You don’t get to do this,” she snaps.
“You don’t get to show up here looking all broody and guilty like that makes up for anything. Like that erases the way you wrecked her.”
I clench my jaw, my chest tightening. “I’m not trying to erase anything.”
She scoffs. “Oh, so what’s the plan then? You think if you stand here long enough, she’ll just… forgive you? That she’ll come running down those stairs, all teary-eyed, and throw herself into your arms?”
“Claire,” Clark sighs, rubbing his temples.
“Tone down the dramatics a little, yeah?”
“No, Clark. Because I don’t live in delusional fantasy land like you,” she snaps before narrowing her eyes at me again.
“Winter’s not going to give you some grand, movie-worthy second chance, Zion. She doesn’t care what you have to say. She walked away without looking back—because that’s exactly what you taught her to do.”
The words hit harder than I want them to.
"I just need her to understand—to see how fucking sorry I am," I say, my voice raw with regret.
Claire’s body tenses at my words, her sharp gaze slicing into me with a mix of disbelief and barely restrained fury. For a long, unbearable moment, she says nothing, just staring like she’s trying to decide if I even deserve the air I’m breathing.
Then, finally, she steps forward, her voice like ice.
"You think saying sorry over and over will fix this? Will fix her?" Her lip curls, her hands clenching at her sides.
"You destroyed her, Z. Shattered her into pieces so small that Ariel and I are still trying to put them back together. Do you have any idea what that’s like?"
My throat tightens. I swallow hard, trying to find steady ground.
"Fuck… I know I messed up, Claire. I—" I drag a rough hand through my hair.
"I thought she lied. I needed someone to blame, someone to focus all the anger on because everything in my life was falling apart, and I—I chose her. I latched onto that lie because it was easier than facing the truth."
Claire's eyes blaze with fury.
"Still not fucking good enough. She did nothing wrong, Z. Nothing."
I nod stiffly, the weight of her words pressing down on my chest like a crushing force.
"I know," I rasp, my voice barely more than a whisper.
"I know. But I couldn’t see it then. I was blind."
My head spins with everything I should be saying to make her understand, but if Claire—standing on the outside looking in—thinks my apology means nothing, then what chance do I have with her? With Snowflake, the one I actually destroyed?
The thought claws at my chest, suffocating.
Claire steps forward, eyes dark with fury, her voice sharp as a blade.
"You’re all going to turn around and walk right back out that door. Now!"
Her gaze flicks between us, daring us to defy her.
"Before Winter sees you."
Ro doesn’t even flinch.
"Yeah… that’s not happening. This is Clark’s house too, and last I checked, he invited us."
Clark, who’s been watching like this is his favourite kind of drama, pushes off the wall and smirks.
Clark smirks, pushing off the wall.
"Look, as much as I enjoy watching Z squirm, let’s not act like you’re the sole ruler of this house, Claire. Last I checked, we both live here. You don’t get to ban people just because you feel like it."
Claire scoffs, crossing her arms.
“Oh, you’re absolutely right, brother dearest. We both live here. But unlike you, I actually have standards for who I let through the door.” She gestures toward Zion and Ro with a dramatic wave.
“And yet, here we are. So either you’ve suffered a serious lapse in judgment, or you really enjoy watching me suffer.”
Ro smirks.
“I mean… watching you suffer is a pretty solid bonus.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting with mischief.
“But honestly? I just love how worked up you get. It’s entertaining. Like a tiny, very angry chihuahua guarding a house, it doesn’t even own.”
Claire narrows her eyes, deadpan. “Say chihuahua one more time, Ro. I dare you.”
I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face, but it does nothing to ease the tension clawing at my chest.
My gaze lifts—past Claire, past the sharp bite of her words—up the stairs.
To her.
Even though I can’t see her yet, I feel her. Like a shift in the air, like gravity tilting in her direction.
And suddenly, nothing else matters. Not Ro’s taunts, not Claire’s fury, not the weight of my own guilt pressing down on me.
Just Winter.
My Snowflake.
And making her forgive me—no matter what it fucking takes.