CHAPTER 186
**ZION**
My chest rises and falls too fast, like I’m still in the ring—heart pounding, fists itching, vision tinted red. One hit. That’s all I got. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he said. Not for the way he looked at her.
I didn’t want to hurt him.
I wanted to ruin him.
For her.
And now, even with the blood cooling on my knuckles and the chaos behind me, I know one thing for sure—
I’d do it again.
No hesitation.
No regret.
Just say the word.
I can’t shake the image of Damien’s smug face.
The way he looked at Winter.
The way he talked about her.
I clench my fists again, nails digging into my palms.
“You were two seconds away from turning the hallway into a warzone,” Ro says, disbelief cutting through his voice.
“Should’ve let me,” I mutter, my jaw clenched so tight I swear something’s going to snap.
Ro shoots me a look.
“Really? And what—getting suspended was part of your master plan?”
“Did you even hear what he said about Snowflake?” I growl, the words ripping out of me like broken glass.
My voice is low, raw—barely tethered to control.
“You think I give a shit about getting suspended?” I laugh—sharp, humourless—shaking my head slowly like the idea’s so far off it’s laughable.
“Fuck no. Let them kick me out. Let them call the cops. I don’t care....”
"…Because nothing else fucking matters. She does.”
The silence that follows is thick—tense enough to snap.
Then Clark, walking just beside me, lets out a scoff and mutters,
“Hell yeah, Z’s right.”
His eyes are still lit up with leftover adrenaline like he’s itching for round two.
“Next time, let me handle it. I’ll rearrange his jaw so bad he’ll need subtitles every time he tries to talk.”
There’s a glint in his eyes that says he means it, too—and for once, I don’t feel the need to shut him up.
Clark shakes his head, muttering darkly before adding with a scowl,
“And I didn’t even get one decent sarcastic line in during that whole damn showdown. That alone calls for revenge. I want my shot.”
He’s only half-joking—and only because he’s still high on the chaos.
But Harry suddenly halts mid-step and spins on us, eyes hard and voice razor-sharp.
“Do either of you ever think past your fists?”
Clark falters, brows lifting.
“What’re you—”
“No, seriously. You’re talking about getting your turn like this is some playground brawl. Did it even cross your mind what’s going to happen when Winter finds out what actually went down after she walked off to the washroom?”
The silence that follows hits colder than the punch I threw.
Harry’s jaw flexes.
“You think she’s gonna be proud of this? Of you?” He gestures at me like I’m the living proof of a fuck-up.
“This whole ‘friendship’ you’re banking on—it barely started last night. And now it might not even survive the day.”
I stop dead in my tracks.
"Fuck..." I mutter under my breath.
Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and accusatory.
"This ‘friendship’ you’re clinging to—might die an early death, and it’ll be on you, Z."
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling roughly.
God, what the fuck is wrong with me?
The tension in my chest tightens as the thought hits me, gnawing at me from the inside out.
What would she think if she found out I punched that asshole?
She’ll think I’m just the same old bully, the same bad boy picking on the new guy?"
Fuck, I can’t handle that.
But she doesn’t know the words Damien spat—doesn’t know what he said about her, or how it made me lose my shit.
My mind runs wild with scenarios, none of them good.
Either way, I don't want her to see me like that—the kind of guy who resorts to violence just to feel in control. The guy who makes impulsive decisions without thinking about the consequences.
That’s not how I want her to see me.
I’ve got to fix this, make it right.
Snowflake won’t find out—no chance in hell.
Not a single word about this.
"Spread the word. Right fucking now," I snap, my voice cold as ice, a threat hanging in the air.
"No one—and I mean no one—tells her anything. Not a damn word about what went down today. Got it?"
Clark smirked, then shrugged casually.
“We can spread the word, but there's one thing you're forgetting, Z. My twin was there in the cafeteria, and you know how fiercely loyal she is to Winter. Not to mention, that sexy redhead was there too..."
Harry’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching in a way that made it clear he was done with this conversation.
"Call her 'sexy' one more time, and I’ll put you through the fucking floor. She has a name, Clark. Don’t ever talk about her like that again."
The venom in his voice sliced through the air, but it wasn’t just the words that made me freeze—it was the warning that hung beneath them. His anger wasn’t just about disrespect. It was personal. And I could feel the weight of it, like a storm ready to break.
I steal a glance at Harry, my thoughts briefly drifting to the fact that he still hasn’t had the guts to tell Ariel how he feels.
It’s been painfully obvious for weeks—he’s gone and fallen for her hard, but he keeps acting like it’s no big deal like he’s not drowning in it.
Clark chuckles, clearly enjoying himself.
“Just messing with you, Harry. Gotta love how you get all worked up over sweet little Ariel.”
I shake my head, pushing the distraction aside.
I’ll deal with Harry’s love story later. First, I need to figure out what the hell I’m doing with mine.
The four of us walk toward the lecture hall, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway.
Harry's voice breaks the silence.
“I don’t know, there’s something about Damien I can’t quite place... like we know him from somewhere. What was his full name again?”
Clark snorts.
“Winter didn’t say, but who cares? All assholes look the same, right?”
I roll my eyes at his attempt to lighten the mood, but Harry’s words linger in my mind.
Something about Damien... He does look familiar, now that I think about it.
I shake the thought off, but the nagging feeling stays, unsettled.
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