CHAPTER 235

**ZION**

We all stood outside the yellow police line, a couple of police officers hovering nearby to ensure we didn’t wander too close again. 

Not that anyone was needed reminding—there were still officers moving with brisk efficiency, collecting evidence, taking photos, and following every procedure. 

A body to move. 

Ethan’s body. 

Fuck. 

He was really gone.

Murdered.

The yellow tape flapped in the wind, a flimsy barrier between us and the nightmare inside. A white van sat waiting at the curb, its engine idling.

It was a while before officers finally wheeled Ethan’s body out on a stretcher, zipped inside a black body bag—

The wheels rattled harshly over the uneven pavement as they carried him toward the waiting white van, its doors yawning open like some grim portal.

Flashing red and blue lights swept across the scene, reflecting off helmets and uniforms. 

Radios crackled, officers barked orders, and evidence markers dotted the yard like grim punctuation. 

Ro’s shoulders slumped, 

Harry muttered something under his breath, and Clark’s eyes were wide and fixed, refusing to look away.

Winter pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, her body stiff as if the cold had seeped into her bones. 

The van doors closed with a dull thud. Its engine roared to life, carrying him away, and the finality hit me like a punch to the stomach. 

Winter’s eyes stayed locked on the van as it pulled away, her tears slipping freely now, catching in the faint light. Her lips trembled, the words barely leaving her mouth.

Ro’s voice cut through the tense air, low but edged with disbelief.

“Why? Why the hell would someone do this? Who could’ve hated him enough to take it that far—to kill him like that? 

I had no fucking idea.

Harry shook his head slowly, his expression grim.

“Or worse… someone enjoyed it. Whoever did this, they weren’t just trying to end him. They wanted him to suffer.”

All I could do was stand there, numb, staring at the van as it disappeared down the street. 

Yeah, I hated him—hated him down to the marrow of my bones. 

I’d dreamed about putting him in the ground more times than I could count. But wanting someone gone and crossing that line? 

I felt my own throat tighten. 

I couldn’t shake it—the image of him, bloodied and strapped to that chair, burned into my skull. It wasn’t just brutal; it was personal. 

And deep in my gut, I had this sick, gnawing certainty… the same sick bastard who did this to Ethan was the one who’d been watching Winter.

A woman strode out toward us, sharp and deliberate, dressed in a black business suit, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. 

A badge glinted at her hip, and I could make out the outline of a holster under her arm. 

She stopped a few feet away, eyes scanning us like she was weighing each of our souls. 

Martin and Muiz followed behind her, and Muiz’s expression was darker than I’d ever seen it.

The woman stopped a few feet from us, hands on her hips, eyes narrowing like she was sizing us up.

“I’ve been told you forced your way into an active crime scene without clearance,” she said, her voice clipped and icy. 

“So explain yourselves. What gave you the right to compromise a murder investigation? What exactly did you think you were accomplishing in there?”

Her gaze didn’t waver as she paced slightly, the heels of her shoes clicking against the pavement. 

“You realise you’ve completely overstepped your boundaries, right? Tampering with a scene, trying to obstruct an investigation? Do you have any idea how serious that is?”

Clark opened his mouth, and his voice was hurried.

“We—we weren’t trying to—”

She cut him off sharply, her voice snapping like a whip. 

“Save it. I don’t want excuses. I want answers. Right now.”

I felt my jaw tighten. 

“We didn’t do anything wrong. We didn’t fucking —”

“Then enlighten me—why the hell were you inside an active crime scene without clearance? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Forensics now has to waste their time cleaning up your mess—literally—because one of you couldn’t hold it together and puked all over evidence that could’ve been critical. That’s contamination, obstruction, interference—take your pick. And instead of processing leads that might actually point us to a killer, my team is stuck cleaning up after you.”

Her eyes hardened, a muscle ticking in her jaw.

“You’re lucky—very fucking lucky—we haven’t slapped cuffs on you already.”

Winter stayed behind me, her body frozen, eyes wide and unblinking. She wasn’t saying a word, but I could feel the tremor in her chest.

The woman’s gaze sharpened, sweeping over all of us like a predator assessing prey. 

“Look, lady—”

Her eyes snapped, cutting like steel.

“Lady?” she bit out, her tone razor-edged. 

“Do I look like just some lady to you? Read the badge. Say the name. It’s FBI Special Agent Roxy Anne. And you’d better remember it—because right now, I’m the one standing between you and a holding cell.”

“Roxy Anne,” I bit out, my voice like gravel, each word torn through gritted teeth.

“We had no fucking clue he was dead. None. I barged in to confront him—nothing more. How the fuck was I supposed to know I’d walk straight into that?” I jerked my chin toward the house, the image of his blood-soaked corpse burning behind my eyes. My fists clenched so tight my knuckles ached. 

“—We’re just as blindsided as you are. And for the record, after seeing him like that… we’re just as desperate to find out who did this. We want answers—just like you.”

She stepped closer, her tone razor-edged, her eyes locking on mine before flicking back to Winter. 

“Desperate to find out who did this, or trying to cover something up? Inspector Martin tried to stop you, but you were relentless—forcing your way in. Anyone who interferes with an investigation doesn’t get to walk away without consequences.”

I could see Martin tense behind her, his hands tightening at his sides.

Roxy Anne leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a deliberate, dangerous calm. 

“So tell me… who here had the most to gain from Vic being dead? Who thought it was acceptable to cross lines no one else would? Because trust me, I will find out.”

Harry’s jaw clenched, his voice low and sharp.

“Most to gain? That’s a fucking accusation, not a question! We weren’t trying to profit off this—we’re not murderers!”

Clark's eyes narrowed, voice dripping venomous sarcasm.

“Fucking fantastic. So what, you think we’re all masterminds now? That we plotted this shit while twirling our imaginary moustaches? Really, what the fuck are you insinuating here?”

Roxy Anne’s eyes didn’t move from Winter, but her smirk widened just slightly. 

“Insinuating? No. I’m stating facts. You barged into a murder scene, interfered with investigations, and forced Inspector Martin to practically drag you out. That’s not speculation—that’s reality. And until I know exactly why, every word out of your mouths is under scrutiny.”

Winter wasn’t saying a word.

“And what about this stalker situation?”

Roxy Anne’s eyes fixed on Winter, sharp and unblinking, then drifted down to the folder in her hand. She tapped it slowly, deliberately.

“You reported having a stalker… just yesterday,” she said, her tone smooth, razor-edged. 

“You gave a list of possible suspects… and look at that—Ethan Wilde sits at the very top.”

She tapped the file in her hand, eyes flicking down to a page. 

“And now, by coincidence—or design—you’re standing at the very place where his body was found. Timing, location, access… it all raises questions. Every one of you owes an explanation. The real question is—was there ever a stalker, or was it all a story… crafted to set Vic up?”

“What the fuck… are—” I barely managed to get the words out.

Roxy Anne’s eyes cut into me like ice

“Tell me—what were you really doing here? Cleaning up? Removing evidence? Or staging the entire scene to look like something it isn’t? I’ll tell you this: any attempt to manipulate a crime scene, no matter how subtle, will be scrutinised. And trust me—I will find out exactly what happened here.”

"Are you fucking serious right now?” I bit out, stepping forward, my voice like broken glass. 

“You think one of us came here to play clean-up for a murder? You think we’re that stupid—or that dirty?” 

My hands curled into fists at my sides,

“She’s not your suspect. She had nothing to do with this! None of us do!”

Her gaze snapped to me, cold and unblinking. 

“And who are you? Her bodyguard?”

“I’m the guy who’s not going to let you treat her like she’s guilty of something she didn’t do!” I spat, teeth clenched. 

Roxy Anne tilted her head, letting a faint, almost imperceptible smirk tug at her lips, but her eyes never wavered from Winter. 

“Circumstantial evidence, past conflicts, proximity to the scene, questionable judgment… all look like pretty good reasons to ask questions.”

I felt my blood boil. 

“Yeah? So that gives you the fucking right to harass her, question her like she’s a suspect—while the real killer is still out there?!” I snapped, stepping closer, my jaw tight.

"That’s not how this fucking works!”

Roxy Anne didn’t flinch. 

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, pressing her to me as if sheer force could shield her from that cold, piercing gaze.

“Winter isn’t the one—she had nothing to do with this, nothing! Stop twisting this on her!

Roxy Anne didn’t flinch. She leaned slightly closer, voice smooth but cutting. 

“Not the one? Maybe. Or maybe the one who finally crossed the line. People interfere with investigations all the time—sometimes intentionally. Sometimes because they think they’re protecting someone. Either way, I will find out. And if any of you tried to cover up, or tried to manipulate this scene… You will be held accountable.

I felt my chest tighten as she pulled away, her anger sharp.

Winter’s jaw tightened, her eyes flashing dangerously, but there was a raw tremor beneath it, a hurt she couldn’t quite hide. 

“You think I’m some… some meddler trying to cover something up?” she spat, voice trembling with rage and disbelief.

Her hands clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to keep her voice from breaking. 

“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve been through… and you sure as hell don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do!”

"Just so we’re clear,” I spat, stepping closer, meeting Roxy’s unflinching stare, 

“We’re not hiding anything. We’re not the villains here. The one who did this… he’s still out there. That’s who you should be hunting.”

Roxy’s lips curved into the faintest, professional smirk, but her eyes never wavered from Winter, sharp enough to make her flinch. 

She was about to press further when Martin’s voice cut through the heavy air, controlled but edged with authority.

“Enough, Roxy. Any further questioning happens at the precinct. Winter, you’re coming with us—now.”

Winter blinked, her confusion sharp and raw. 

“Why…? I don’t understand.”

I sighed, voice rising with barely contained fury. 

“What the fuck. Why is she the one being hauled in for questioning?”

Martin held up a hand, calm but firm, like he was trying to hold back the storm I could feel roaring inside me.

“Routine procedure,” he said evenly. 

“You all need to come as well—they have questions for everyone involved.”

I felt my fists clench at my sides. 

“Questions?!” I snapped under my breath. “

Martin gave a curt nod. “We’ll discuss whatever needs to be discussed back at the precinct.”

I couldn’t fucking believe this was happening. 

Every muscle in my body tensed, a mix of anger and disbelief coiling inside me. I glanced at Winter—her eyes wide, frozen—and I felt this surge of protective rage I could barely control.

........

Third pov

He lingered in the shadows, heart thrumming with something dangerously close to glee. 

Couldn’t have set this up better if I’d tried… oh, the pigs, marching straight to the slaughterhouse, blind and clueless… 

He laughed under his breath.  

Yes… yes… this is perfect… so perfect… oh, Winter… you have no idea. No idea at all… 

His fingers twitched, claws itching, mind spinning with anticipation, every thought jagged and sharp