CHAPTER 197
**WINTER**
He leaned in, voice dropping but somehow growing more dangerous.
“And I swear, Snowflake… on everything I’ve got left—I will protect you. I’ll make sure they regret even thinking about coming near you. You’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”
I stared at him, my heart thudding so violently I could barely hear my own voice over the pounding in my chest.
“But… it could just be a prank,” I murmured, the words shaky but stubborn.
“Some dumb, twisted joke by someone with too much time. We don’t even know if it’s real. You might be chasing shadows, Zion.”
I took a small step back, trying to breathe, to create even the tiniest distance between us—but he didn’t move. He stood there, eyes locked on me like I’d said something crazy.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said again, more quietly now.
“You don’t have to waste your time playing hero over something that might be nothing. This isn’t your mess. It’s not your fight.”
But even as I said the words, a part of me-the part I didn’t want to admit to-was scared—wanted him to fight anyway.
His head snapped toward me so fast I flinched. His eyes were burning—blazing with something fierce and furious.
And then he was in front of me, too close, way too close, grabbing my arms—not rough, but firm—like he needed me to feel every word that came next.
“Don’t have to?” he growled, his voice low and trembling with disbelief.
“Are you serious right now?”
He yanked me closer, and my breath caught as my chest bumped his.
His nose was nearly brushing mine, his breath hot against my lips. The space between us disappeared, thick with heat and something even heavier.
“Fuck, Snowflake,” he whispered, the curse dragging from his throat like it hurt to say.
“You think I’m doing this out of obligation? Like I’ve got some damn checklist I’m crossing off?”
His grip on my arms tightened just enough to make me feel anchored—grounded—in this moment that was anything but calm.
“I’m doing this because I care,” he breathed, voice molten and rough.
“Because the thought of someone hurting you makes me see red. Because when you’re scared, I feel it like it’s happening to me.”
My throat went dry.
He leaned in even closer—his forehead nearly touching mine, voice turning ragged.
“You’re not just someone to me, Snowflake. You never were.”
And just like that, my world tilted.
My legs felt unsteady.
Because with him this close—nose to nose, breath mingling with mine—I couldn’t pretend anymore.
Not about what I felt.
Not about what he meant.
He leaned in closer, slow and silent like he always moved—like something dangerous coiled tight just beneath his skin.
“I’m doing this for you,” he said, every word clipped with emotion.
I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat only tightened; his hands closed around my forearms tightly, firmly, unyieldingly.
He pulled me closer until our noses were brushing, his heat searing through the thin space between us.
“Don’t shut me out,” he whispered, voice husky and urgent, every syllable trembling with need.
His grip wasn’t cruel—it was desperate, holding me in place so I couldn’t retreat behind my defences.
My heart thundered in my ears as his storm-dark eyes bore into mine.
The world narrowed to his breath, mingling with mine, hot and charged, and in that moment, I felt every barrier inside me crumble.
He leaned in, voice rough against my lips.
“I refuse to let you face this alone.”
I trembled under his touch, raw emotion and something deeper—something like longing—surging through me. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t pull back.
All I could do was breathe him in, and let my arms fall slack at my sides, surrendered to what was between us.
“I just...” My voice cracked.
“It might be nothing, okay? Some sick joke or someone messing around. People do this kind of crap all the time for attention, or just to be... cruel. You’re acting like I’m in some kind of danger, but there’s no proof.”
I kept my eyes low, not daring to meet his. Because I knew the moment I did, I’d see it—that unwavering fire in him.
The one that would burn for me, whether I asked for it or not.
And I didn’t know how to handle that right now. It was easier to pretend this was still just a misunderstanding.
“I didn’t want you dragged into it,” I added, my voice smaller now.
“It’s not your responsibility.”
That’s when I felt it—that heavy silence from him.
It wasn’t quiet, not really. It was full of tension, heat, something unspoken vibrating between us.
Until finally, his voice broke through it—low and rough, but laced with something that made my breath catch.
“Why do you do that?” His voice dropped so low it felt like thunder rolling through my bones.
“Why do you still act like I’m the enemy? Is this new chance at friendship just some cruel joke? Or pity?”
I forced my eyes up to his, and suddenly he was right there—so close I could feel the heat of him, the unspoken promise coiling in the space between us.
My heart skipped, stuttered, then pounded against my ribs.
“God, Snowflake,” he rasped, closing the last inch between us—then suddenly his hands slipped from my arms.
He ran both hands through his hair, tugging at the dark strands in frustration, as if trying to smooth out the storm of his own thoughts.
I stood there, chest still fluttering from his closeness, and felt the emptiness where his grip had been.
My skin itched for that steady pressure, that solid warmth. I missed his touch like a lifeline I’d been yanked away from.
“Don’t you see? I’m here.” His voice was a gritty whisper now, edged with raw honesty.
“I know I’ve fucked up before. I know I’ve hurt you. But I’m right here—still standing. Wanting to protect you.”
I opened my mouth, swallowed, and tried to push back the tightness in my throat.
“I—”
“I’m not perfect. Hell, I’m probably the last person who should be saying this. But I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.”
“But I’m here, and I’m trying. And I’m not going to stand by while someone threatens you.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
“Why are you still so damn stubborn?” he demanded, eyes burning into mine.
“Do you really think I’d read those messages and not react? Do you honestly believe I could see that someone’s out there watching you, targeting you, and just... stay quiet?”
I flinched, not from fear—but from the raw truth in his voice. From how deeply he meant every word.
“I know our friendship’s been rocky,” he said, voice cracking slightly.
“I know I’ve been a stupid, selfish bastard. But you…” He exhaled hard.
“You’re the one person I’ve never been able to forget. The one I always come back to.”
My chest ached.
“You matter to me, Snowflake,” he added, slower this time.
“More than you probably realise. And yeah, maybe I fucked up before. Maybe I ruined everything between us. But I’m not letting anyone hurt you again. I won’t stand on the sidelines, not this time.”
His eyes locked on mine. So fierce. So damn intense.
And for once, I didn’t turn away.
Couldn’t.
Because something in me, something deep, hidden, and scared, wanted to believe him.
God help me, part of me still did.
“Snowflake...” His voice dropped low, the way he said my name sent a shiver crawling down my spine—though I couldn’t tell if it was the kind I wanted or the kind I feared.
I quickly turned my head away, desperate to hide the tremble in my skin.
I sucked in a shaky breath, forcing my eyes back to meet his—unable to deny the truth swirling behind my gaze.
I pressed a hand to my chest, steadying my racing heart.
“I’m sorry—” I started, voice soft and shaky. I looked away for a moment, swallowing.
“It wasn’t personal.”
He watched me, arms crossed, waiting. I took a breath.
“You’re always so quick to blow up, Zion—like a wildfire that takes over everything.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, searching his face.
“I knew… if I told you, you’d go full scorched earth before you even had the full picture.”
I let my gaze drop to the floor, then back up, catching the concern in his eyes.
“Despite everything, I do trust you. But your anger…It’s overwhelming sometimes. Loud. Fierce. Burns hot—and it scares me.”
My voice softened, almost a whisper.
“Not because I think you’d hurt me,” I admitted,
Butt because I know you’d burn yourself just to keep me safe.”
I reached for the phone on the nightstand, flipping it face down.
“And these messages?” I laughed, bitter and small.
“I honestly thought it was just some sick joke. I didn’t want to see you unravel over something that might mean nothing. I was trying to protect you, in my own way.”
I met his eyes again, vulnerability and apology mixed in my gaze.
“I hope you understand.”
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