CHAPTER 229

**ZION**

I stood beside Clark, arms folded tightly across my chest, every muscle tensed like a loaded gun.

Winter sat across from us, perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, her knuckles white around the cushion seam she clutched.

She hadn’t stopped trembling since the last message came through. And now, the goddamn cops were grilling her like she was the one on trial.

Martin flipped his notepad closed, exhaling slowly as he looked directly at Winter. His voice was calm, not unkind, but careful—like he was trying to walk a tightrope between empathy and duty.

“Winter,” he said,

“I know this is the last thing you want to be doing right now,” Ruiz began, voice quieter but firm,

“But we need to start narrowing things down. Anyone you’ve had tension with recently? Arguments, grudges, even if they felt minor at the time. Anyone who might’ve had a reason to scare you?”

Winter stiffened, her spine straightening like she’d just been slapped.

“I don’t...” Her voice trailed off, soft and frayed.

She glanced down, fingers twitching against the hem of her sleeve.

“Maybe some students. People who don’t like me. I hear whispers sometimes, sure… but it’s not like I have a list of enemies. I’m not exactly popular, but I didn’t think anyone hated me.”

She swallowed, harder this time.

“Maybe people think I’m stuck up or whatever,” she murmured.

“But I don’t know anyone who would hate me enough to hurt something innocent. Certainly not enough to do... that.”

Martin nodded slowly, scribbling something down with more care than before—like something in her tone had unnerved him.

Ruiz stepped in, flipping a page.

“What about unwanted attention? Someone is watching you, following you. Anyone who lingered where they didn’t belong? Even if it didn’t seem threatening at the time?”

Winter blinked, clearly trying to catch up. She shook her head slowly.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“People are around all the time. In college, I mean. I don’t always notice who’s watching.”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She dropped her gaze to her lap, twisting her fingers into her sleeves.

“Sometimes I get looks. Whispers. But I thought I was just imagining it. I didn’t want to sound paranoid.”

My chest clenched.

She shouldn’t have to justify this. Shouldn’t have to explain away the instincts she clearly doubted now.

Ro was staring hard at the floor. Clark looked like he was ready to punch a wall.

Before the silence stretched too far, Ariel cleared her throat and stepped forward, pulling a folded page from her back pocket.

“We made a list,” she said tightly, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“People she’s had issues with lately. Might be nothing, but it’s a place to start.”

Martin accepted the paper with gloved fingers, unfolding it carefully.

Martin accepted the paper with gloved fingers, unfolding it carefully. His eyes flickered over the list, scanning each name with practised efficiency.

“We’ll look into it,” he said flatly, but then his gaze paused, just slightly.

“Ethan Wilde… hmm.”

The name lingered in the air.

“He’s been missing for some time now.”

But Martin didn’t elaborate. His face gave nothing away as he continued reading, offering no explanation—just that one loaded observation, then silence.

Martin slipped the list into his folder with a quiet rustle, his gloved hands precise, movements controlled.

“It’s standard procedure to look at all angles,” he said, tone clipped but deliberate.

“Someone went to a lot of effort to send a message. That doesn’t happen without motive.”

He paused, eyes cutting toward Winter.

“That means we need to figure out who might’ve had a reason—real or imagined—to be angry. Resentful. People don’t just escalate to this unless something pushed them there.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“So think. Anyone who’s had a problem with you—recently or not. Fights. Tension. People you might’ve rubbed the wrong way, even if you didn’t realise it at the time.”

Winter winced at the wording. “I don’t make enemies on purpose.”

“It doesn’t have to be intentional,” Martin replied, tone unmoving.

“People hold grudges. Jealousy. Rejection. Embarrassment. Even misunderstandings.”

She shook her head again, slower this time.

“I can’t think of anyone who’d go this far. I haven’t been in any major fights. Nothing that would explain this.”

Ruiz stepped forward, voice slightly gentler.

“Think beyond the obvious. Someone who gave you a bad feeling. Someone is too persistent. Who made you uncomfortable, even if they didn’t cross a line?”

Clark let out a bitter scoff.

“You want a list of guys who’ve stared at her too long? Pick a name out of a damn hat.”

But Winter didn’t react.

She was too still now.

Thinking.

“What exactly are you asking?” she finally said, her voice measured but hollow.

“Ex-boyfriends. Guys you turned down,” Martin said bluntly.

I tensed, my jaw clenching.

“She already gave you a list.”

Martin didn’t even glance at me.

“The more information we have, the better.”

Winter exhaled slowly.

“I haven’t dated in two years,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“I was working double shifts with my mom, back home. I didn’t have time for anything else.”

“Then names of anyone you rejected,” Martin pressed.

“Anyone who couldn’t take a no.”

Ruiz nodded from behind him.

“It’s not personal. We have to explore every angle. Even if it feels like a stretch.”

I saw Winter flinch.

Her fingers twitched on the blanket and I moved closer, wrapping my hand around hers.

“We need to rule out the possibility that this isn’t some twisted creep escalating from threats to something worse,” Ruiz continued.

“Think back, Winter. Even if it’s vague. Even if it seems like nothing.”

Winter stayed quiet for a long moment. Then, finally:

“I’ll try,” she whispered.

“But I really don’t think it’s anyone like that.”

I hated this.

Hated how they were picking her apart like she was a puzzle instead of a person.

But we needed answers.

And whoever was out there hadn’t stopped.

This was far from over.

Martin waited, pen poised, like this was just another line of questioning in another dull case.

It wasn’t.

This was Winter.

And the moment she spoke a name, I knew it would make her feel exposed—vulnerable.

She drew in a shaky breath.

“There’s… there was a guy last semester, back home. Kyle Denton. We worked on a group project together. He asked me out after it ended. I said no.”

Martin scribbled the name down without reacting.

“He started showing up at my work shifts. Sat through two classes he wasn’t even enrolled in. But I told security and he backed off.”

My hand tightened around hers. Her voice sounded detached, like she was trying to talk about someone else's life.

“Anyone else?” Ruiz asked, still flipping his damn notebook like this was just routine.

She closed her eyes, as if she were trying to summon every name from the past five years.

“There was…a friend of my mom’s. His name was Nate. Older. He’d always make weird comments about my clothes when I came downstairs. He got drunk one night and cornered me in the kitchen.”

My grip on her hand tightened so fast she flinched. I loosened it just enough not to hurt her, but my vision had gone sharp and red.

Martin looked up.

“Did he touch you?”

Winter shook her head.

“No. My mom walked in. But he was angry after that. Said I made him look like a predator.”

“He sounds like one,” I muttered, my voice low, deadly.

“We’ll add all these names to the list. Run background checks,” Martin said, scribbling quickly.

Ruiz lifted her head again, her tone casual but invasive.

“You said you haven’t dated in two years, but what about hookups? Short-term things? Rejections can sting worse when people think they’re owed something.”

I saw red.

Hookups?

Short-term things?

My jaw clenched so hard it ached.

What the hell kind of question was that?

What did he think she was—some whore they could interrogate like she asked for this?

Like some random guy she'd brushed off had the right to tear her life apart because he didn’t get what he wanted?

Winter froze.

Her cheeks flamed, her throat bobbing in a dry swallow.

“Hey,” I said, stepping forward slightly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I growled, stepping forward before anyone could stop me.

Martin barely flinched, but Ruiz looked up.

“You think this is how you get answers? By digging into her private life like she’s the one on trial?”

My voice was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade.

“She’s not some case file or cautionary tale—you don’t get to pick her apart like she deserved this because she said no to the wrong guy.”

They didn’t respond.

Didn’t even blink.

My chest was tight with fury, breath coming hard.

“You want to ask questions? Fine. But the second you start treating her like she invited this, like her pain is something to be picked apart for leads, I swear to God—”

“Zion.” Harry’s voice cut through mine like a warning bell.

“Back off.”

I didn’t move.

“She’s not your damn suspect,” I spat, eyes still locked on Martin.

“She’s the victim..... You’ve got your fucking list. If you’ve got more questions, run them through me.”

“Zion—” Winter whispered

“No,” I growled.

“You don’t have to keep reliving every guy who made you feel unsafe. That’s not helping catch this bastard.”

Martin gave me a look. “I understand you’re protective. But the more we know—”

“I get it,” I cut in.

“But you can’t interrogate her like this, it's her fault.”

Ruiz looked between us, then back at Winter.

“We’re not accusing anyone. But the guy who sent those messages knows her. He’s watching her. Which means this isn’t random.”

As if on cue, her phone dinged again.

We all froze.

Winter flinched, jerking as if the sound physically struck her. I reached down and grabbed the phone off the couch before she could.

The screen lit up.

One new message.

“Did you like my present? You needed to understand just how serious I am. But now I see you’ve called the fucking cops. Bad. Very bad.”

“What the fuck,” I muttered. “He’s watching us.”

Martin snatched the phone.

Read the message.

His face went still, professional mask in place—but his grip on the phone tightened.

Then—another ding.

“You’ve pissed me off enough. You will get hurt next time.”

That did it.

“I can trace him,” Martin barked, spinning around and grabbing his own phone.

He called into the station, barking out the number on Winter’s screen and demanding immediate tech support.

Backup.

Tracing.

The works.

I didn’t wait.

I swiped open her phone and hit the call button on the number.

Winter’s voice came sharp, panicked beside me.

“He won’t answer. You think I haven’t tried this—”

But he did.

The call connected with a soft click.

And then—laughter.

Cold, robotic, distorted laughter was spat through the speaker. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up.

Martin shoved the phone on speaker. We all listened.

“I told you,” the voice hissed, jagged and warped, like a broken record skipping on a nightmare.

“I didn’t mean to kill your cat. But you were a bad girl—real bad. And now—now you drag the cops into this? You’ve crossed a line, Winter. A line you should’ve never even looked at.”

The laughter twisted, snapping like broken glass, sharp and hollow.

“You’ve pissed me off—really pissed me off. And trust me… that’s the last thing you ever want to do.”

“You’re gonna pay. Oh, you’re gonna pay so fucking much for dragging other noses where they don’t belong.”

And then the line went dead.

I didn’t realise my hands were shaking until I almost crushed her phone.

“Find him,” I snarled.

“I don’t care how. I don’t care what it takes. You find him.”

Martin met my eyes—and for once, he didn’t look like a cop. He looked like a man who understood.

Who was just as furious.

“We will.”

But I wasn’t waiting for Will. I was going to find him before the sun came up.

And God help him when I did.