CHAPTER 182
**ZION**
Winter doesn't deserve that.
Not his words.
Not his twisted laugh.
Not even his attention.
Damien’s hand comes up to his mouth, his lip split and already bleeding. He wipes the blood away slowly, deliberately, like he’s savouring the taste of it. His eyes never leave mine—not even for a second.
That sick grin creeps back onto his face, wider this time, smug and twisted. The bastard’s loving this—relishing the fact that he got exactly what he wanted. That I snapped. I gave him the reaction he was baiting from the start.
He glances down at the smear of blood on his fingertip, turning it like it’s a trophy. Then he looks back up, that grin curling deeper.
“That’s more like it,” he sneers, voices low and mocking, thick with contempt.
“Didn’t think you had it in you, golden boy.”
I fight against Ro, every muscle screaming to get another hit in, to make Damien bleed more, to make him feel what he deserves.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, my fists tightening, every muscle in my body coiled with rage.
“You have no idea what I'm capable of,” I growl, my voice low and venomous.
“Keep pushing, and you'll find out.”
My chest heaves like I’ve just run a damn marathon. Every muscle in my body is still coiled, begging to be let loose, but Ro’s grip is unrelenting.
I can feel the stares drilling into me from every direction—phones raised, gasps echoing, whispers spreading like wildfire.
But I don’t care.
Not about the crowd.
Not about what happens next.
All I can see is Damien.
Standing there with blood dripping from his busted lip and that smirk still plastered on his face like he’s proud of himself. Like he won.
Ro finally shoves me back a step, planting himself between me and Damien like a damn wall. His face is right in mine, eyes burning.
“You wanna get kicked out?” he hisses, low and sharp, voice barely holding back his own frustration.
“Because that’s exactly where this is headed if you don’t get your shit together.”
He jabs a finger into my chest.
“You think this is helping? You think she’s gonna look at you swinging like a wild animal and feel safe with you? All you’re doing is proving that fucker right.”
His voice drops further, hard and cold.
“Don’t let that piece of shit be the reason you lose everything. Especially her.”
I try to breathe.
Just one deep breath to calm myself down.
To stop the shaking in my hands, the fury in my blood.
I shove Ro off with a grunt, taking a few steps back, fists clenched so tight my nails dig into my palms. I need to walk. I need to leave before I do something that will ruin more than just my academic record.
But Damien, of course, doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.
He steps forward, tongue running over his bloody lip like he’s proud of it.
“You know, all this bullshit you're pulling over Winter—it’s making me curious.”
Harry moves to block him, but Damien just leans around him, eyes locked on mine, voice low and venomous.
“She must be one hell of a fuck to get you this riled up. All that attitude, all that fire—I bet she’s an absolute freak once the lights go out, huh?”
He chuckles, dark and full of poison.
“No wonder you’re so goddamn possessive. Can’t stand the idea of someone else getting a taste.”
My whole body tenses.
“You think punching me’s gonna change anything?” he goes on, daring me.
“You want to keep her to yourself, fine,” Damien says, that smug sneer curling across his lips.
“But now you’ve got me interested. I want to see what the fuss is about. I want her.”
He steps forward slowly like he’s daring me to lose it.
“And when I want something—I get it. So what the hell are you gonna do about that, Zion?”
That’s it.
I explode forward, fists clenched, rage roaring in my chest like a goddamn wildfire—but before I can even reach him, a hand shoots out.
Harry grabs Damien’s collar in a sudden, violent snap, yanking him back hard enough to make his head jerk.
“That’s fucking enough,” Harry snarls, dragging him in close, their faces inches apart.
“You run your mouth one more fucking time, and I swear to God, Zion won’t have to lay a finger on you—I’ll put you through the fucking floor myself.”
Damien’s grin wavers—just barely—but not enough to satisfy the fury still boiling inside me.
Harry shoves Damien back, his grip on the situation snapping like a dry twig. He’s had enough.
“Get the fuck out of here. Now!” Harry snarls, his voice thick with fury, his eyes blazing as he steps between us.
The calm, controlled version of him I’ve always known is gone, replaced by something far darker, far more dangerous.
“Before this turns into more than just Zion beating your goddamn face in.”
Damien takes a step back, eyes flicking from Harry to me, but he’s not brave enough to test it further.
That’s when Clark, who had been watching the scene unfold from the sidelines, strolls forward with his usual lazy smirk plastered on his face.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He looks at Damien like he’s something to be scraped off his shoe.
“Now, I don’t know about you, but I’d take Harry’s advice if I were you. You don’t want to find out how much worse this can get. Trust me, it’s not pretty.”
He leans in a fraction, smile vanishing.
“Keep talking about Winter like that... and next time, we won’t hold Zion back.”
My heart’s thundering, my jaw clenched so tight it might shatter. Every word out of his mouth plays on a loop in my head, each syllable scraping against something savage inside me.
He thinks this is a game.
He thinks he can say her name like that.
Talk about her like she’s his to chase.
Like she’s something to take.
My voice comes out quiet. Low. Dead serious.
“You try to go near her, Damien,” I say, my eyes burning into his,
“and I swear to God—I’ll make you regret ever being born.”
There’s no anger in it now. No yelling. Just cold certainty.
And that’s what finally makes Damien pause. Just for a moment. He sees it—whatever’s in my face—and he realizes this isn’t some pissing contest anymore.
This is a line.
And he just stepped over it.
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