CHAPTER 163
**ZION**
Claire stands her ground, arms crossed.
"You’ve got about three seconds to turn around and walk out that door before I start breaking noses—no excuses, no hesitation."
I exhale sharply.
"Go ahead, Claire. Might as well add it to the list of things I deserve," I say, my jaw tightening.
"But I'm not leaving." I take a step forward, meeting her glare head-on.
"I'm not going anywhere until I talk to Winter. She has to listen. Even if it’s just for a second."
Claire lets out a sharp, humourless laugh.
"Has to? Z, you lost the right to have to a long time ago. She doesn’t owe you a damn thing—not her time, not her words, not even a single glance."
I shake my head, my hands balling into fists at my sides.
"I don’t care. She can scream at me, throw shit at me, tell me to go to hell—I’ll take it. But I won’t just walk away. Not this time."
Claire's hands fly up, and before I can brace myself, she shoves me hard in the chest, pushing me back a few steps.
“Tell me, Z,” she hisses, her voice low and venomous,
“Tell me why I should let you talk to the girl you humiliated—over and over again.”
My heart slams in my chest.
I want to explain, to apologize, but the words catch in my throat. Before I can even get a word out, she shoves me again, this time harder. I barely budge, my stance firm, but I can feel the anger in her like a weight on my chest.
“Because, I—” I try, but she cuts me off, her voice like ice.
“Because what, you arsehole?” she snaps, pushing me again, this time with even more force, but I don’t move. I just stand there, trying to hold her gaze, trying to show her I’m not running.
I’m not giving up.
Ro steps forward, his gaze is unwavering as he locks eyes with Claire.
“Listen up, Claire—Z is talking to Winter. Period.”
His voice is sharp, unyielding.
“And if you think we’re walking out of here without making that happen, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
He plants his feet, his stance daring her to try and move him.
“So go ahead, glare, threaten, do whatever you need to—won’t change a damn thing. We’re not leaving.”
Harry moves in beside him, his arms crossed tightly over his chest,
“We’re not going anywhere,” he says, his voice steady but laced with quiet fury.
“Z screwed up—no one’s denying that. But if you’re really going to stand there and stop him from even trying to fix it, then what does that say about you, Claire?”
His gaze doesn’t waver, his stance solid.
“Winter deserves to make that choice for herself. So go ahead. Threaten us. Kick and scream. But we’re not moving.”
Claire’s eyes blaze like fire-catching wind, and she steps forward, seething with raw fury.
“Oh, that’s cute. You think barging in here with your big declarations suddenly makes you the good guys?” she snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“You think I’m just going to stand here and let him pretend he didn’t wreck her? Humiliate her? Turn her into a fucking shell of herself?”
She jabs a finger toward me.
“He doesn’t get to walk in like some tragic hero begging for redemption. He broke her. And you?”—her glare rakes across Ro and Harry—
“Backing him up doesn’t make you loyal. It makes you delusional.”
Her voice drops to a warning growl, low and threatening.
“Try and push past me, any of you, and I swear you’ll regret it.”
Ro scoffs, tilting his head like he’s actually considering her words.
“Oh wow, Claire. You almost had me there. Really. I was this close to running off with my tail between my legs.”
He steps closer, smirk widening.
“But here’s the thing—you don’t get to decide how this plays out. And if you think a few glares and some angry words are gonna send us packing, well… that’s just adorable.”
"Why you--"
Harry exhales, running a hand through his hair,
"Claire, I know you're angry. You have every right to be. But shutting this down doesn’t make Winter’s pain disappear. Ignoring it doesn’t undo what happened."
He meets her glare without flinching.
“Let him try. Not for you, not for him—for her. Because whether you like it or not, she’s the one that’s hurting. She deserves closure. Whether she forgives him or not... if she doesn’t get that, it’s just gonna eat her alive. And it’ll eat him alive, too.”
Claire lets out a sharp, humourless laugh.
"Oh, now you care about what Winter deserves? That’s funny." Her eyes blaze with fury as she takes a step closer.
"Where was that energy when he was tearing her apart? When he made sure she had no choice but to leave?"
She crosses her arms, her voice cutting like a blade.
"Let’s be real—you’re not here for her. You’re here to ease his guilt. And I’m not about to let that happen."
Ro scoffs, shaking his head.
“You think this is about guilt? Please.”
He steps in closer, meeting her glare without hesitation.
“Z’s drowning in guilt, Claire. He’s been suffocating under it every damn second. All we’re asking is for Winter to hear him out—give him a chance. After that, she can run him over with a truck, throw him under a bus, rip him apart if that’s what she needs to do.”
His lips curl into a thin, humourless smile.
“But sure, keep acting like you’re the one who knows best for her. Keep playing gatekeeper. Just don’t be surprised when it all blows up in your face.”
Claire’s chest rises and falls, her eyes locked on us, her fists clenched at her sides.
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re angry, Claire ” I snap, stepping closer, my voice raw with impatience and desperation.
“You think I’m doing this for me? For you? No. I’m doing this for Winter. She needs to know how fucking sorry I am, and I’m not going anywhere until she hears it. Not a single fucking step.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides.
“You can call me every name in the book, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m not leaving without that chance. I will talk to her. You can threaten me, you can scream at me, I don’t give a fuck.”
I feel the heat rising in me, the anger mixing with the guilt, but underneath it all is a desperate need to make this right.
“She deserves to hear my side. She deserves to decide what happens next. Not you. Not anyone else.”
I stand my ground, locking eyes with Claire, my voice shaking with frustration.
“So either step the hell aside, or I’ll make you. But I’m not going until I speak to Winter.”
Claire stares at me like she’s debating whether to punch me or throw me out herself.
Hell, maybe both.
Her hands twitch at her sides, and for a second, I think she’s actually going to do it.
“Unbelievable,” she mutters, rubbing her temples like she’s physically restraining herself from committing murder.
“Fine. You wanna walk into your own funeral? Be my guest.” She steps aside with an exaggerated wave toward the stairs.
“Just do me a favour—when she chews you up and spits you out, don’t bleed on my floors.”
Then, she steps forward,
“And listen carefully, because I’m not saying it twice. You stay down here. We’ll be upstairs. Step one foot where you’re not wanted, and I swear to God, Z, I’ll make sure you don’t walk out of this house—.”
She tilts her head, a dangerous smirk playing at her lips.
“And trust me, I’ll enjoy every second of it.”
Her glare sweeps over the rest of us, cold and merciless.
“That goes for all of you Royal Morons. Try anything, and I won’t just break your noses—I’ll make sure you regret ever stepping foot in my house.”
“Our house!” Clark finally speaks up, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Shut it!” she snaps.
Then, with a sharp toss of her hair, she strides off toward the kitchen.
“Tell the cook to send some snacks up,” she calls like she hasn’t just promised violence.
But before disappearing completely, she slows just enough to give each of us one final, withering glare,
“Fucking morons. All of you.” before she disappears up the stairs.
Clark exhales. “So. That went well.”
Then he claps his hands together.
“So, anyone else feeling a strong urge for snacks?
Harry sighs.
Ro glares
"No? Just me?” he frowns.
I glance up the stairs, my heart hammering in my chest.
Fuck!
If Claire’s this furious...
Then Winter must be........
Fuck, I’m screwed.
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