CHAPTER 221

**ZION**

Her body’s still trembling against mine, soft and flushed and perfect. I can feel her heartbeat thudding against my chest, feel the way her breath stutters when I run my fingers gently down her spine.

I press a kiss to her forehead.

And then I say it—low, raw, because it’s the fucking truth.

“That was… fucking incredible.”

Her head turns, just slightly, so I can see the side of her face—flushed, shy, lips twitching with disbelief.

“You’re just saying that…” she whispers, eyes darting away.

I sit up, just enough to hover over her again.

“What?” My voice drops, low and sharp.

She bites her lip, fidgeting beneath me, and I can see the shift—the insecurity seeping in, replacing that beautiful, fiery glow she wore just minutes ago.

“I mean…” she starts rambling, cheeks blooming red, voice uncertain.

“I’m so… inexperienced,” she whispers, her voice barely holding together. 

“It was my first time, Zion.”

She pauses, eyes searching the ceiling like she’s trying to stop herself from spiralling.

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I was nervous—terrified, actually. And I probably looked so awkward. I kept second-guessing everything. My hands, my breathing… the way I looked at you.”

Her voice cracks, and she swallows hard.

“I kept thinking—‘what if I’m not doing it right? What if it’s not enough?’ I just… I wanted you to like it. I wanted you to like me.”

She draws in a shaky breath.

“But the whole time I was wondering—what if I mess it up? What if you realise I’m not like the others? Not as confident. Not as… perfect. Just some girl who doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing and is scared of disappointing you.”

She turns her face, eyes cast to the side like she can’t bear to look at me. Her next words come quieter, almost ashamed.

“I’ve never… touched anyone like that before,” she continued softly, voice thick with emotion. 

“Never even thought I’d be able to.”

Her fingers twisted in the sheets as her eyes flicked up to meet mine for a second, then dropped again.

“And I know you’ve been with people—girls who probably knew how to please you. Girls who didn’t fumble, who weren’t all wide-eyed and shaky like me. Girls who…”

She hesitated, then let the words fall out, even if they stung.

“Girls who weren’t me.…who made you feel good without even trying? You had practically every girl in college, Zion. They talk. Everyone knows. And I’m just… this mess who didn’t even know where to put her hands without second-guessing herself.”
She laughed quietly—self-deprecating, brittle.

“I was scared I wouldn’t be enough. That I’d be forgettable. 

She swallows hard and then whispers the part that guts me.

Her voice cracks.

“I’m just not like them. And I guess I’m scared that when this moment passes, you’ll remember them… and forget me.”

Something snaps inside me.

Other girls?

The words slice deeper than they should. Like she thinks she has to compete with ghosts—when she’s the only one who’s ever mattered.

I don’t let her finish.

Her words sting more than I want them to—but not for the reasons she thinks.

Because the second she compared herself to them, to them, like they meant anything—I saw red.

I crash my mouth onto hers—hard. Fierce. Possessive. Like I’m trying to rip the thought straight out of her head. 

She gasps, but I don’t pull back. I don’t give her space to doubt herself. My hand finds her jaw, holding her steady as I devour every broken piece of what she just said.

I pour everything I can’t say into that kiss—all the anger, the desperation, the need for her to understand.

When I finally pull back, her lips are kiss-swollen, her eyes wide with emotion. My hand stays firm on her jaw, grounding her. Making sure she’s listening.

“Don’t. Ever. Compare yourself to them.”

She blinks up at me, wide-eyed.

“You think they meant something to me?” 

My voice is raw. 

Harsh. 

Almost bitter. 

“You think I even remember their names? You think I wanted any of them the way I want you?”

I shake my head slowly, like the memory itself disgusts me.

“They were a blur, Snowflake,” I muttered, my voice low, rough around the edges.

“Drunken nights. Hollow faces. Bets.”

She blinked up at me, but I wasn’t done.

“Girls who threw themselves at me because they liked the way I looked. Because they liked the idea of conquering someone like me. Wanting to taste power. Wanting to be in the Royal circle… hoping they could tame me.”

I shook my head slowly, my thumb brushing over her flushed cheek.

"I slept with them because it was easy. Because I didn’t care. It was never about them—it was just a way to forget, to feel something for a second before going numb again. Just bodies… just a release. I used them the same way they used me. There was no meaning, no connection—just noise. I didn’t feel anything for them… not even enough to remember their names."

She swallowed hard, eyes glassy, but I leaned in closer, letting every word fall like a vow between us.

“Yes, I liked to fuck,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. 

“I liked the rush. The control. The distraction. But I never made love to them, Snowflake.”

I pause, eyes burning into hers.

“I made love to you.”

She froze beneath me, lips parting as her breath caught.

“I didn’t even know I was capable of something like that until you. You didn’t have to do anything, didn’t have to know anything—because it was never about the moves, or the experience, or being perfect. It was you. Your heart. Your trust. Your goddamn soul looking right into mine.”

I cupped her face with both hands now, as if holding something fragile, something I couldn’t afford to lose.

“Every time I touched you, it felt like I was breathing for the first time. Like nothing in this world existed except us. I didn’t just want you, Snowflake. I felt you. In every inch of me.”

I kissed her again, softer this time—aching with meaning.

“You weren’t just my first time making love,” I whispered against her lips. 

“You were my only time. And you always will be.”

I drop my forehead to hers, my hand sliding to cup her cheek—so gently now it’s almost a contradiction.

“Snowflake?” I breathe out, softer now, but still intense. 

“You undo me. You look at me and I feel seen. You touch me and I feel alive. No one’s ever made me feel like this. No one’s ever mattered like this. You think you're inexperienced? Baby, you just wrecked me without even trying.”

I lower my head until our foreheads press together.

“You weren’t awkward. You were real. You were mine. And nothing—nothing—has ever come close to what I just felt with you.”

I close my eyes briefly, breathing her in.

“You think being innocent makes you less? It makes you real. It makes this real. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like a weapon or a game or a trophy. I felt… wanted. Needed.”

I open my eyes and look at her like she’s the only thing that exists.

“There’s no comparison, Snowflake. No one even comes close to you.”

My hand slides to her cheek, holding her like she’s made of glass and stardust and every fucking thing I was too filthy to ever deserve.

“You're not just a body, Snowflake. You're you. Do you know how rare that is? Do you know what that means?”

She tries to look away again, but I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes.

“You make me feel everything I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. You make me crazy. You make me want things I never believed I could have. You’re not just ‘better’ than the others. You obliterate them. They don’t even exist next to you.”

Her lips part.

She’s silent.

But I can feel her breathing harder, her pulse racing against my chest.

I lower my voice, just for her.

“I didn’t fall for you because you were experienced, or confident, or easy. I fell for you because you’re real. Because you blush when I touch you. Because you tremble when I whisper your name. Because even when you're scared, you still give me all of you.”

I kiss her again, slower this time, gentler—but still with that same aching hunger behind it.

“You think you’re inexperienced,” I murmur against her mouth, “but you just ruined me.”

She lets out a soft, broken sound, and I smile against her lips.

“You have no idea how powerful you are, do you?” I breathe. 

“You undo me, Snowflake.”

And I mean it.

Every word.

Because the truth is—no one’s ever made me feel like this.

No one’s ever mattered like she does.

And I’ll spend every day proving it to her.

Even if I have to tear the whole damn world apart to make her believe it.

**THIRD POV**

The bastard had money. That much was obvious. The mansion sat like a trophy—pristine, towering, smug. Walled in by iron gates, wrapped in cameras, drenched in soft golden light like it thought the world couldn’t touch it.

It was wrong.

He crouched behind the hedges across the street, deep in the shadows, fingers clenched around the binoculars. He’d counted the cameras—six so far, probably more. 

Sophisticated. 

Motion-triggered. 

Thermal, maybe. But he was too far out to trip anything. 

He wasn’t stupid.

Not yet.

Not tonight.

Winter was inside.

So were her friends.

But he couldn’t hear a damn thing.

The windows flickered with movement. Upstairs. 

Downstairs. 

Glowing, warm, and inviting. 

The house pulsed with life, silhouettes sliding behind the curtains like shadows in a dream. 

Too many. 

Laughing? Eating? Planning? 

He couldn’t tell.

He hated not knowing.

Was she smiling in there?

Was she fucking smiling?

His nails dug into his palm, drawing blood. She didn’t get to smile. 

Not after what she’d done. Not after she’d taken everything. Like it had meant nothing.

She wasn’t supposed to be happy.

She was supposed to bleed.

She was supposed to wake up screaming. 

Be afraid of her own shadow. 

Not safe, not soft, not living in some rich prick’s fortress surrounded by people who made her feel protected.

What had she told them?

Did they know about the messages?

Did she twist it all to make herself the victim?

The light in her room flickered.

A tall shadow crossed behind the curtain.

A man.

His jaw locked. 

The burn behind his eyes roared to life.

Who the fuck was that?

In her room?

Touching her?

The audacity.

Did she let him in?

Did she invite him?

Giving him that sweet, innocent act.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Biting her lip. 

Batting her lashes. 

Pretending she’s fragile.

She’s a liar—playing the helpless card, like she hasn’t learned how to twist people around her little finger.

And him?

Another idiot falling for it. 

Just like the rest.

He dropped the binoculars for just a second, lungs heaving, vision tunnelling.

He hated her.

Every goddamn inch of her.

That perfect face—so sweet, so untouched, like she hadn’t destroyed someone’s entire life and walked away without blinking.

She didn’t deserve peace.

She didn’t deserve laughter, protection, or a room of her own where tall shadows moved freely.

She wasn’t a victim.

She was the executioner.

And she was going to learn that some ghosts don’t stay buried.

That some ruins crawl back.

That no matter how bright the lights in that house glowed…

They couldn’t burn out the dark coming for her.

He was coming.

And this time, she’d look over her shoulder and see him.

Because hate like his didn’t fade.

It hunted.