CHAPTER 215

**ZION**

“I want every fucking call traced,” I said low, calm—too calm. 

“Every message, every blocked number, every private line. I don’t care if it’s routed through six towers or buried behind some digital fortress—I want a name.”

My footsteps echoed softly on the marble floor, but my mind raced. 

The message. 

Her face. 

That fear she tried to hide behind that brave front. 

No. 

Not happening.

“Find out where it came from, who sent it, and what they had for breakfast last week if you have to. I want their entire life spread out in front of me before sunrise.”

A pause. 

Breathing through my nose. 

Jaw locked.

“If they tried to cover their tracks…” 

I stopped walking, eyes narrowing. 

“Burn through it.”

Click.

I slipped the phone into my pocket and stared down the hallway like I was staring down a loaded gun. 

I knew what this was turning into. 

And I didn’t care. 

Let it.

Because whoever thought they could touch her—scare her—was about to learn the hard way what I’d do to protect what’s mine.

And Winter was mine.

.......

The others had finally crashed—Ariel and Claire tucked away in the guest room down the hall, the guys scattered across whatever spare space they could find. 

I should’ve done the same. 

But my feet kept moving, drawn to the one door that mattered more than the rest.

Winter’s.

I hesitated, fist hovering just above the smooth wood, breathing in the silence between us.

Then—two soft knocks.

No answer.

I waited a beat, then pushed the door open slowly. 

It wasn’t locked. 

Of course it wasn’t.

The room was dimly lit by the amber glow of her bedside lamp. 

She was sitting curled up on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to her chest, that worn hoodie drowning her frame. 

Her eyes snapped up when she saw me, wide and startled at first… then softening, like she’d been expecting me anyway.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said quietly, stepping inside and gently closing the door behind me.

She nodded, didn’t speak. 

Just pulled her sleeves over her hands, hugging them close like armour.

My chest clenched.

I crossed the room slowly, like I might spook her. 

But she didn’t look away. 

She just watched me, those tired eyes filled with something that cut deeper than fear.

Helplessness.

“Everyone’s settled in,” I murmured, kneeling before her, so we were eye-level. 

“Claire and Ariel are down the hall. The guys found couches, floors, guest beds... It’s a full house.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

I reached out, gently wrapping my hands around her wrists, thumbs brushing the inside where her pulse beat fast and frantic.

“You okay?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

She shook her head, just slightly.

“I hate this,” she whispered. 

“Feeling like I’m dragging all of you into something I don’t even understand.”

“You’re not dragging us anywhere, Snowflake,” I said, voice low. 

“We’re here because we choose to be. Because I choose to be.”

She looked down, lids heavy, lashes damp.

I tilted her chin up, made her look at me.

“And no matter what comes next... I’m not leaving.”

Her breath hitched.

Then slowly, she unfolded from the bed and leaned into me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a quiet, trembling hug.

I slid my arms around her waist, pulling her in tighter—anchoring her the way I’d always wanted to. 

Like if I held her hard enough, the world outside couldn’t touch her.

And for a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. 

Not the messages. 

Not the threats. 

Just this quiet, fragile space where she was safe in my arms.

And I’d keep it that way—no matter what it took.

She sighed softly against my neck, her breath warm and slow.

Her body curved into mine, pressing closer as if she wanted to dissolve into my skin, every inch of her seeking to become one with me.

I held her tighter, one hand gently running up and down her back in slow, grounding strokes. 

Her heartbeat had finally started to slow against my chest, syncing with mine in a way that made everything else quiet.

I pushed myself up from my knees and settled onto the edge of the bed, my hands coming to rest gently on either side of her—

Only for one hand to land on something that definitely wasn’t a pillow.

Or a blanket.

The texture registered first—soft, delicate… lace.

I stilled.

The colour caught my eye next. A flash of deep crimson peeking out against the pale sheets.

My eyes dropped down.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

There, lying on the bed like some cruel joke from the universe, was a red lace thong. 

Tiny. 

Barely there. 

And absolutely fucking lethal.

I blinked, once. 

Twice.

I picked it up slowly, smirking as I leaned back against the headboard, dangling the red lace thong between my fingers....

“Well, well…” I drawled, lips tugging into a smirk as I looked over at her. 

“Planning a little solo fashion show, Snowflake?”

Her eyes widened in horror, cheeks flaring scarlet.

“Oh my God—” she gasped, snatching the scrap of lace in a flash and shoving it under the pillow like it might erase the last five seconds from existence. 

She looked horrified. 

Mortified. 

Like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

“I—I was going to take a shower,” she stammered, her voice breathless, cheeks flushed deep pink. 

“To relax, clear my head… I thought maybe it would help me sleep better.”

She looked anywhere but at me, fingers gripping the edge of the pillow like it might swallow her whole.

“I took it out and told myself I’d get up and shower, but I guess I was more exhausted than I thought, and I just... crawled into bed and .....”

She let out a breath, flustered, brushing her hair back as if that might hide the blush rising up her throat.

“Totally forgot it was even there until you…” 

Her eyes flicked to my hand, mortified. 

“Found it.”

She buried her face in her hands with a muffled groan. 

“God, kill me now.”

Her cheeks matched the colour of the lace now.

I dragged a hand over my mouth, trying to clear the fog in my brain. My jaw clenched as I looked at her, that red flush climbing down her neck.

My voice came out hoarse. 

“You were gonna wear that... to relax?”

Her eyes shot to mine, wide and embarrassed. 

“That’s not—” she squeaked. 

“I didn’t think anyone would see it!”

I held up both hands in surrender, though I couldn’t stop the grin pulling at the corner of my mouth—tight and full of heat I couldn’t quite smother.

“Well,” I murmured, tilting my head, voice dropping, “for what it’s worth... I definitely saw it.”

“Zion!” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

I chuckled, leaning closer, dropping my voice to a low whisper.

“I mean… You were trying to relax, right? Not sure red lace exactly whispers ‘peaceful sleep’—more like ‘temptation waiting to happen.’ But who am I to judge?
Maybe… I’d rather see it on you. That sight alone? Trust me, it’d help me relax plenty.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep, rosy red, and her breath hitched like she’d just been caught. 

She glanced away, biting her lower lip, the tiniest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth—half embarrassed, half something more daring. 

“You’re impossible…”

I smirked, the corner of my mouth twitching with amusement. 

“Impossible, huh? Maybe. But you’re the one who keeps letting me get away with it.” 

I leaned in just a little, my voice dropping lower, rough with something dangerous and wanting. 

“And somehow, I don’t think you want me to stop.”

"Zion..."

She was flustered. 

Hair a little messy, cheeks tinged pink from whatever had just passed between us.

God, she was beautiful.

I watched her closely, my gaze drifting to her lips, almost hypnotised.

“I love the way you say my name,” I murmured, my voice low and smooth, locking eyes with hers.

“When you’re nervous, it’s soft, trembling—like you’re on the edge of losing control.”

I leaned in closer, my breath warm against her skin, my gaze locked on those lips.

“When you’re angry, it’s sharp, clipped—like a warning that bites just beneath the surface.”

She barely breathed now.

“And when you’re happy...” I brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, my thumb trailing slowly, deliberately, lingering too long.

“You don’t just say it—you moan it.”

Her eyes widened—blue and startled, like she couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud. Like I hadn’t been memorising every little sound she made for years.

“I do not,” she whispered, her voice cracking like glass under pressure.

I let a slow smile pull at the corner of my mouth.

“You do,” 

She pulled back just a fraction, not enough to break the closeness.

Her lips parted slightly like she was about to speak—but no words came out. Just a soft, shaky exhale.

She blinked once. 

Then again. 

And then, slowly, her tongue darted out to wet her lips—nervous, instinctive, and unintentionally sinful.

“I… I don’t—” she whispered, her voice catching on the edge of the moment.

But she didn’t move away.

She didn’t push me back.

She just stared up at me like I’d peeled something open inside her that she hadn’t meant to show.

And God, she had no idea what that look did to me.

“I don’t,” she muttered again, but her voice cracked halfway through. She crossed her arms, as if that would somehow protect her from the effect I had on her—or worse, the effect she had on me.

Her eyes darted to the floor, to the wall, anywhere but mine. 

Then she licked her lip—a nervous habit—and that alone just about undid me.

“I mean, I wasn’t trying to… I didn’t know I—”

She stopped. 

And looked at me.

Then she whispered, 

“You’re just messing with me.”

I leaned in, letting my breath brush against the shell of her ear, my voice low and thick with heat.

“If I were really messing with you,” I murmured slowly, 

“You’d already be beneath me… breathless, aching—and begging me not to stop.”

She froze.

Then swallowed.

Hard.

And I swore, if she didn’t kiss me soon—I was going to lose my damn mind.

I reached over, tugging her gently back toward me.

“I’m not messing with you, Snowflake,” 

I said, the words edged in something darker, something real.

My gaze dipped to her lips.

“When it comes to you… I don’t mess around. Not now. Not fucking ever.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out—just a shaky breath as her eyes locked on mine, wide and burning with something raw.

Then, slowly—almost like she couldn’t stop herself—she reached forward.

Her hand pressed flat against my chest, right over my heart, like she was trying to feel every beat of it. 

And god, it was thundering. For her. Only for her.

“I know,” she whispered, voice barely more than a breath.

And her words made my damn heart race harder against her hand.

God help me, I was so screwed.