CHAPTER 233
**ZION**
I killed the engine and jumped out, making sure to park a little way down the road. Just behind us, Harry pulled up, his car sliding smoothly into place as the boys climbed out, eyes sharp and alert.
We started toward the location the college nerd had sent—a rundown, crumbling house that looked like it hadn’t seen life in years.
The air felt thick, heavy.
Ro muttered from behind me, voice low but tense, “Something feels off.”
I nodded, the pit in my stomach telling me—there was definitely something wrong here.
Police cruisers surrounded it like vultures circling their prey, blue and red lights flashing against the cracked walls. Officers milled around, tense and alert, their radios buzzing with static and orders.
My gut twisted.
This wasn’t just some arrest.
Something about this felt heavy—like the calm before a storm.
I kept Winter close, my eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, ready for whatever the hell was waiting inside.
Harry’s voice cut through the tension as we neared the house.
“What’s the plan here? Are we just going to barge in there..
He watched me, eyes narrowing at the way my fists clenched—like I wanted to rip something apart.
“So… are we playing it cool?”
I shook my head, voice low and tense.
“Screw cool.”
Without looking back, I strode toward the house, cutting through the cops’ warnings like they weren’t even there.
“Hey! This is a crime scene! Police business! Step back!”
But I didn’t loosen my grip on Winter’s hand — if anything, I squeezed tighter.
I needed to see Ethan.
Confront him.
Fuck, maybe throw a few punches before they drag his ass out of here.
I didn’t give a damn about the rules anymore.
Didn’t know what I was going to do once I saw him — only that I wanted to make him pay for ever laying a hand on her.
That’s when Inspector Martin stepped into my path, glare sharp enough to cut through steel.
“How the fuck did you even know we were here? This is police business—move the fuck back, now. Let us do our job before I haul every one of you in.”
My teeth ground together, heat burning through my veins.
“Interfering? No, inspector Martin,” I said, my voice low, steady—dangerous.
“I’m making damn sure the bastard who hurt her doesn’t slip through your fingers.”
Martin’s glare hardened, his jaw tight enough to crack.
“Step back, Royal. You’re crossing a line—this is an active investigation, and right now you’re nothing but a liability.”
Clark scoffed, crossing his arms.
“Oh, come on, Inspector Martin. Give the guy a minute. He’s got every right to be here.”
Muiz’s voice sliced through the tension from behind Martin, laced with disbelief and irritation.
“What the fuck is this? Since when do we let a bunch of college kids stroll into an active investigation like it’s a damn field trip?”
Martin snorted without looking away from me, his mouth curling into a smirk.
“Yeah, I was just telling them to leave nice and quiet—y’know, give them the benefit of the doubt. But apparently, they think they’re here to play junior detectives.”
Muiz stepped up beside him, arms folding as his gaze swept over us like we were gum stuck to his boot.
“Cute. Real cute. Now, how about you move your asses before we decide you’re obstructing and handle it the official way?”
Martin chuckled, though his eyes stayed hard.
“Which means cuffs, paperwork, and you sleeping it off in a cell. Your call.”
Clark scoffed, leaning back on his heels with a lazy shrug.
“Oh, relax. It’s not like we’re storming the place with guns blazing. He just wants a minute with Wilde—no need to get all badge-and-handcuffs about it.”
Muiz shook his head, voice sharp.
“This isn’t a negotiation. Move aside before we have to take action.”
Ro snapped,
“Un-fucking-believable. We gave you his fucking name. Now what? You’re protecting him from us? The same bastard who almost raped Winter, who might be stalking her—and you want us to just sit back and look pretty?”
Martin’s face twisted with fury, veins bulging in his neck.
“You think you’re the ones doing justice? We’re the law here, not some vigilantes. Back off now—or I’ll personally see you cuffed and thrown in a cell before the night’s over.”
Harry stepped forward, eyes blazing, voice cold and cutting.
“Don’t you fucking remember that lovely little box left outside Royal’s place? You know, the one with the dead cat inside? And those fucking messages practically threatening Winter? We just want to go in and politely ask Ethan if he’s the mastermind behind all that… is that really too much to ask?”
Muiz smirked, eyes cold as ice.
“Oh, of course. Let me just stop the entire investigation so you can have your polite little heart-to-heart with Ethan. Because that’s exactly how this works—just stroll in, ask nicely, and everyone holds hands. Brilliant plan.”
Martin sneered, voice dripping with contempt,
“Ok, that's enough. This isn’t a playground. We’re doing our job—by the book. If you want results faster, stay the hell out of the way.”
None of us moved.
Martin’s face darkened, eyes blazing with frustration.
“I don’t have time for your circus. Jack, get these clowns pushed back—now.”
A squad of officers stepped forward, closing in like a tightening noose. Jack grabbed my arm with a rough pull.
“Move along, kids. If you want answers, you’ll wait for the damn process.”
“Hands off me!” Clark snapped, twisting against the grip.
My jaw clenched, muscles coiling tight with barely contained rage. I wasn’t leaving— not until I saw Wilde.
Winter’s hand shook beneath my grip, and I loosened my hold—slow, controlled.
Then, without hesitation, I let go.
I surged forward, breaking past Martin and Muiz without a second glance, my heart pounding loud in my ears.
“Hey! Don’t go in there!” they shouted after me, but I didn’t slow down.
My voice tore through the heavy silence, raw and urgent as I charged toward the house.
“Ethan Wilde! Show yourself, you bastard!”
Behind me, Martin’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and furious:
“Royal! For fuck’s sake, get your ass back here right now!”
But I was already halfway down the cracked walkway, heart pounding with a storm of rage and desperation, completely ignoring the orders—and everything else except confronting him.
The stench hit me the moment I got close—slipping out from the cracked doorway like a warning. My mouth snapped shut on its own, heart hammering in my chest.
Fuck, I knew that smell.
Behind me, Harry, Ro, and Clark were already cursing, but I hadn’t even noticed they’d followed me this far.
Without hesitation, I stepped through the doorway, the sickening stench hitting me full force—there was a body inside. The smell of decay was unmistakable, burned into my memory.
Behind me, Martin’s voice strained to keep order.
“Guys, come on… nothing to see here, back off.”
But it was already too late.
My eyes locked onto the corpse lying in the centre of the room, and the atmosphere snapped tight—there was no denying what we’d uncovered.
Fuck Ethan.
He was slumped in a rickety chair, arms bound tight with rough rope, ankles secured to the chair’s legs. His chest was a map of stab wounds—deep, jagged slashes that spoke of brutal, relentless violence.
The sick familiarity of the wounds told me this wasn’t random—it was torture. His head hung forward, dirty blond hair falling like a curtain over his pale, bloodied face.
Behind me, Harry’s breath hitched.
“Holy shit……?”
Ro’s voice cracked, barely above a whisper.
“Ethan…?”
Clark stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Fuck… how did it come to this?”
Martin exhaled heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his eyes locked onto the broken body before us.
“We got a tip on Ethan Wilde this morning,” he said, voice low and grim.
“Came out here… and found him like this.”
He turned sharply to the medics moving around the room.
“They say he’s been dead for over three weeks.”
Three weeks.
The words hung in the stale, heavy air — impossible to ignore, suffocating in their weight.
Fuck.
How?
How do you even do something like this?
And why?
Who the hell would want to leave him to rot like this?”
My eyes flicked around the room, searching the shadows as if hoping for answers to crawl out from the darkness.
Beside me, Clark’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper, trembling with disbelief,
“And if it wasn’t Ethan… then who the fuck’s been stalking Winter?”
The question lingered, chilling the room deeper than the stench of death.
He was right.
Those messages—they weren’t from him.
Ethan had been dead long before any of that started.
I stared down at the dry blood soaking Ethan’s broken body.
Fuck.
“What if the one stalking Winter did this to him?” I muttered, voice low.
The guy's head snapped toward me.
I’d been worried the stalker would escalate—but if it was the same guy who did this, then that nightmare had already crossed every line.
He’d committed murder.
No going back now.
The stench of death filled my nose and mouth. I could taste that sickening horror, and it made my stomach twist.
Martin’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and tired.
“Okay, now you guys have seen what I didn’t want you to see. Can you please let us do our job?”
He barely finished when a sharp scream shattered the stillness.
I snapped my head toward the doorway.
Winter stood there, hand pressed over her mouth, eyes locked on Ethan’s corpse.
Fuck.
Behind her, Damien’s face mirrored the same shock,
"Who the fuck is that!"
But my focus was only on her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
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