CHAPTER 179
**ZION**
I don't think so," I growl, voice low and dangerous. "She's not going anywhere private with you."
Damien smirks, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he raises an eyebrow.
“Really now? And who the hell are you to say anything? Her boyfriend? Her keeper?”
He lets out a chuckle, eyes flicking between Winter and me.
“Or are you just playing the ‘tough guy’ role for kicks?”
I don’t blink. Don’t flinch. Just stare him down like I’m counting every breath he takes.
No. I’m the guy who’s trying real fucking hard not to rearrange your face in front of her.
“Oh, so that’s how it is?” he sneers, a mocking glint in his eyes.
“Appointed yourself as her personal bodyguard-slash-hopeful future boyfriend?” He lets out a low, condescending laugh like the whole thing is just tragic entertainment.
“What is this, the 1800s? Or do you just not trust her to be alone with someone who isn’t wrapped around your leash?”
The nerve of this guy.
He knows exactly what he’s doing—stirring the pot, pushing me to the edge, daring me to make the first move. And part of me wants to.
Badly.
But I’m not about to give him that satisfaction. Not yet.
My jaw tightens so hard it aches. My fists curl under the table, nails digging into my palms. One more word—just one—and I’m putting this asshole through a wall.
My voice is low, dangerous.
“Careful. You’re getting real brave sitting on the edge of a fucking cliff.”
He smirks, not even flinching. “Is that a threat...?”
“Maybe it is,” I growl, fists clenching at my sides.
“Would you like to find out?”
Before he can fire back, Winter suddenly shoots to her feet, the chair scraping loudly behind her as she slams her palm down on the table with a sharp crack that silences everything.
“Enough!” she snaps, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade.
“What is wrong with both of you?”
Her eyes blaze as she looks between us, fury radiating off her in waves.
“Is this what it always comes down to with guys like you? Testosterone, chest-puffing, and territorial bullshit? This isn’t about your fragile male egos, or who’s got the bigger dick”
Neither of us says a word.
I don’t dare.
“I’m not some prize to be fought over. I’m not your possession or some excuse to throw punches. This project matters to me—and you two acting like alpha dogs in a pissing contest is not helping!”
She glares at Damien, eyes blazing.
“And you? You’ve been pushing my buttons all morning like it’s some kind of twisted game. Acting smug, making comments, trying to get a rise out of everyone like it’s fun for you. News flash—it’s not. It’s exhausting. Grow the hell up.”
She doesn’t stop there—her voice rises with the heat behind it.
“This isn’t some playground where you get to poke people until they break just to see what happens. You think it’s cute? It’s not. It’s childish, it’s manipulative, and I’m done pretending it doesn’t bother me.”
Then her gaze swings to me—sharp, disappointed, and it cuts deeper than any punch ever could.
“And you, Zion…”
Her voice is quieter now, but it carries more weight than when she was shouting.
“And you, Zion…” Her voice is quieter now, but it carries more weight than when she was shouting.
Ah! Oh!
Shit. I’m in it now. She’s pissed.
I’ve fucked up—again.
“Seriously? What happened to all that ‘I’m a better person now’ talk? That lasted, what… a few hours?” She throws her hands up.
“Not even one damn day, and you’re already back to being ‘bad boy Zion,’ ready to throw punches just because someone pissed you off...”
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but she holds up a hand, silencing me before I can even form the words.
"Don't. Just... don't," she snaps, her voice tight with frustration.
"I'm angry because you can never seem to control that damn anger of yours. I'm angry because you're making this all about you when all I want is to finish this stupid project and be done with it."
She exhales sharply, then shakes her head.
“I don’t need you babysitting me, okay? I’m not some fragile thing that needs protecting. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“Snowflake …” I start, voice low, trying to meet her eyes.
“I wasn’t trying to—”
She shakes her head, her voice tight with frustration.
“Save it, Zion.” She doesn’t look at me as she sits back down, crossing her arms firmly across her chest.
“If either of you want to stay, then shut your mouths and act like you’ve got even a scrap of maturity left. Otherwise, leave. Now.”
Her gaze shifts to me, sharp and unwavering.
“Zion, I don’t know why you and your merry men are here, but if you must stay, then stay quiet. Not a word. Got it?”
“Merry men?” Clark scoffs, clearly offended.
“Really? Do we look like a bunch of guys prancing around in tights and whatever the hell merry men wore? No, no. I'd prefer we were more like the Avengers, way cooler. And if we’re doing this, I’m voting Iron Man. Gotta be, right? I mean, he's got the tech, the style, and the attitude. Definitely no tights involved....and ”
He pauses, looking at Winter with a mock-serious expression. "Though, if you're gonna make me wear tights..."
Winter's eyes narrow, and she hisses, cutting him off sharply.
"Clark, shut up!"
Her tone makes it clear she’s not in the mood for his jokes.
“Now, all of you—not a single word.”
Then her eyes move to Damien, her tone turning colder.
“And you, Damien—enough with the ‘I’m the king of the world’ crap and that ‘I’m better than everyone’ attitude. I’m done with it. If you actually want to finish this project, then focus and do your part. And just so we’re clear…”
She glances at me, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Before we were interrupted by my friend here,” she motions toward me,
“you were never getting my number. So don’t bother asking again.”
My blood boils, and I can feel the heat of anger creeping up my neck, spreading through my chest. The audacity. The absolute nerve of him, asking for her number like he’s entitled to it. Like she’s some kind of prize he gets to claim.
I lock eyes with him, my fists tightening at my sides, fighting the urge to put him in his place with my fists. But it’s not just the fact that he’s crossing a line with me—it’s the way he’s looking at her like he actually thinks he has a chance.
The words come out low, my voice a growl that carries everything I want to say and more.
“You think you’re just gonna stroll in here and ask for her number? You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to ask her for anything.”
I can feel the rage building, but I keep my composure, my eyes not leaving his.
“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she’s interested.”
He leans back in his chair, pushing his hair out of his face with that infuriatingly casual look like I’m just a blip on his radar.
“Really?” he says, a lazy smirk spreading across his face. “She’s not interested in me? I highly doubt that. Girls love me.”
I hear a loud aggravated sigh—definitely Winter—but my focus is locked solely on this bastard. The way he talks, like he’s got the right to even think that he has a shot with her, makes my blood boil.
But then, he tilts his head, his tone sharp and challenging.
“Who are you to say what I can or can’t ask her? You really her boyfriend or something?”
The words hit like a punch to the gut, harder than I expected. My teeth grind together, and my jaw tightens, rage threatening to boil over.
No. I’m not her boyfriend. Im just a fucking friend. The thought churns my gut. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it doesn’t work.
“She’s someone… very special to me,” I say through clenched teeth, my voice low and rough, a storm brewing behind every word. The weight of the truth hangs in the air, thick and charged, and for a brief moment, I wonder if he can see it—feel it.
Winter’s gaze flickers to me the moment the word special leaves my lips.
It’s true—she doesn’t know how much she means to me, how deeply she’s carved herself into my life.
For a brief second, I catch a softness in her eyes, but it vanishes before I can fully hold on to it.
I hold her gaze, willing my eyes to speak what I can't find the words for—the weight of everything I feel for her, how she's more than special to me, she's everything. But all I can offer is a look—intense, raw, heavy with the promise of all the things I can't say aloud.
But soon, I will.
Soon, I'll find a way to make her see just how much she truly means to me.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
