CHAPTER 243

**WINTER** 

The room felt impossibly still after Jenny’s intervention. William had lowered his fists, his chest rising and falling with slower, steadier breaths, but the air between us remained thick with unspoken anger. 

I could see it radiating from him, the way his jaw clenched whenever Zion moved even slightly closer to me, and I knew this wasn’t over.

Jenny, ever the peacemaker, had her hands pressed together in front of her, her voice calm but firm as she addressed both men. 

“Right now, there are far more important things to focus on,” Jenny said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. 

She stepped between them slightly, placing a hand on my dad’s arm.

“The stalker. Ethan’s death. The kids were being questioned for hours,” she gestured sharply between the two of us.

“This anger, this fighting, this—whatever this is—you can deal with later. Not now. Not when Winter’s life is at stake. And,” 

She added, her voice sharpening as she turned her gaze on William, 

“That’s my son. So don’t you dare threaten him—not here, not ever.”

William exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. 

His shoulders relaxed slightly, though the tension in his jaw remained.

“I’m not threatening him, sweetheart… It’s just—he always knows how to get under my skin,” William said, his eyes softening as they met Jenny’s.

I blinked, surprised at the gentleness in his tone. 

Even Zion looked momentarily amused.

“Whoa… who knew stepdaddy had a soft side? Looks like Mom’s got him on a leash… sitting pretty and wagging his tail,” Zion teased, a wicked, mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Zion!” Jenny snapped, exasperated, shooting him a glare sharp enough to make him shrink back a little.

“You will speak to William with respect. I know you’ve never liked him, but he is my husband. He is the father of the girl you claim to love. That means he deserves your courtesy, at the very least. You do not get to lash out, throw insults, or make this about your ego. You want her? Then start by showing the people closest to her the respect they are due.”

She eyed both men, voice firm. 

“Keep your temper in check—both of you. We need your heads in the game, not your fists in someone else’s face. 

This is bigger than your arguments, bigger than your anger, bigger than any of your grudges.

This is about protecting her, not proving who’s tougher or more charming.”

For a moment, the smug defiance that usually danced across Zion's features vanished, replaced with a rare, almost sheepish restraint. 

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then snapped it shut, jaw tight. 

“Yeah… I get it,” he muttered at last, voice low but grudgingly respectful. 

“I’ll watch my mouth… for now.” His fingers twitched, as if itching to move, but he stayed where he was, caught between frustration and respect.

Dad, on the other hand, stiffened as if Jenny’s words had been a blow rather than a balm. 

His chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. 

For a heartbeat, I thought he might erupt anyway. 

Then, slowly, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly. 

He didn’t speak, only stared at Zion, hand resting on Jenny’s arm, holding her touch as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded.

Zion leaned closer to me, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. 

“Fuck… seriously… Mom knows how to handle him. She deserves a fucking award,” he muttered under his breath.

Dad’s eyes snapped to Zion, fury and disbelief swirling in his glare.

“You—what did you just say to me, boy?!” His voice was sharp, each word practically slicing the air.

“I said—” Zion began, that infuriating, smug smile tugging at his lips, clearly enjoying the chaos he’d stirred.

“Zion! William!” Jenny barked, stepping between them, her tone sharp and exasperated. 

“Enough! Both of you, listen to me right now. Stop with the teasing, stop with the insults, and stop letting your anger rule you. This ends—now!”

“You are supposed to be the adults here!” Jenny snapped, her voice sharp, dripping with sarcasm. 

“Honestly, it’s astonishing watching you two squabble like children over something so stupid. Are we really doing this right now?”

Both men flinched slightly under her intensity. 

She stepped even closer, pressing firmly on William’s arm, her eyes daring them to argue further.

Zion’s jaw tightened, a flicker of defiance still in his eyes, but Jenny’s glare pinned him in place. He muttered, almost under his breath, 

“Sorry, Mom.” The words were grudging, but the fight in him was momentarily contained.

Dad, still flushed with anger, let out a gruff sigh. 

“Sorry… sweetheart,” he admitted, voice low and reluctant, clearly still simmering but obedient to her authority.

Jenny’s expression softened slightly, though her eyes remained sharp. 

“Good. Now that’s done. If both of you can manage to keep your tempers in check, even for a few minutes, maybe we can focus on what actually matters. Lives are at stake—Winter’s life, the investigation into Ethan’s death, the stalker—we cannot let your petty grudges interfere with that.”

Zion and William exchanged wary glances, both still bristling with residual tension, but neither moved to argue. 

For the first time that evening, the chaos in the room seemed to ease, if only slightly. 

The arguments had paused, replaced by the looming reality of what we had to face—and for the moment, it felt like we might actually be able to handle it as a team.

.......

We all huddled around the lounge table, my phone open to the messages, each notification like a jagged knife twisting in my chest. 

Jenny and Dad leaned over, eyes scanning, occasionally sharing a glance that spoke volumes—shock, concern, disbelief.

“Oh my God,” Jenny whispered, her hand tightening over Dad’s arm as her eyes scanned the words again. 

Her face paled, lips pressing into a hard line.

“This person is psychotic… dangerous.”

“You’ve been getting these messages for a few weeks?” she whispered, almost to herself. 

Her voice cracked on the last word, horror bleeding through. 

Her other hand clutched at Dad’s arm like she needed something solid to keep her upright, her nails digging into his sleeve as though the ground beneath her had just shifted.

Dad’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with a sharp, uneven rhythm, but Jenny didn’t even seem to notice. 

Before I could say anything, she was on her feet, crossing to me. She wrapped me in a warm hug, one that pressed all the trembling pieces of me back together for just a moment. 

Her voice was low but fierce as she leaned toward my ear.

“We won’t let this psycho get away with this, sweetheart. He’ll pay. I promise you that.”

My throat tightened, eyes burning as I nodded against her shoulder. 

Jenny held me for a second longer before pulling back, smoothing my hair like I was a child.

Even with her there, Zion’s grip on my hand never loosened. His thumb rubbed slowly, grounding circles against my skin, but his jaw was locked, the lines of tension etched deep. 

He was furious—silently, seethingly furious—but steady for me, for us.

Dad’s eyes, though, were another storm entirely. 

They cut to me sharp and incredulous, a look that made my stomach drop.

“Winter...Why didn’t you tell me the moment the first message came through? You should have told me!” 

His voice was low, but it carried a weight that struck harder than shouting. 

His fists flexed at his sides, knuckles white, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack. 

For once, it wasn’t only rage burning in his eyes—it was something darker, sharper. 

Terrified anger. 

The kind that wanted blood, the kind that needed someone to blame.

“Tell you?” I scoffed, a bitter laugh slipping out before I could stop it. 

“Yeah, right. I probably would’ve gotten scolded, Dad. You’d have said I was overreacting, or—classic—being attention-seeking. Or maybe you’d throw in the usual ‘stop being dramatic, Winter’ for good measure.”

My chest tightened, words sharper than I meant them to be, but I couldn’t stop. 

“So yeah, I kept it to myself. Because God forbid I make a big deal out of something, right? Even if it is serious.”

The bite in my voice wavered at the end, cracking slightly as guilt and fear tangled in my chest.

Dad’s face darkened, his jaw clenching so hard I thought his teeth might crack. 

His hands curled into fists at his sides, chest heaving like he was holding himself back from exploding.

“Overreacting? Attention-seeking?” His voice thundered, sharp enough to cut through bone. 

“Is that what you think I’d say? That’s what you think of me?” He stepped closer, eyes blazing, veins standing out on his neck. 

“Goddamn it, Winter, this isn’t a joke! You’ve been threatened—your life is in danger—and you didn’t tell me because you thought I’d brush it off? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

He dragged a hand over his face, shaking his head in disbelief, then jabbed a finger toward me, his fury laced with something rawer beneath.

“I’m your father. It’s my job to protect you. And you—” his voice broke for the first time, a crack in the storm, 

“—You didn’t even give me the chance.”

He stepped closer, every inch radiating anger, his ego burning hotter than reason or concern. 

“I’m your father, Winter! I know what’s best! I should’ve been the first person you told! Not anyone else—not some arrogant boy who thinks he gets to decide what’s right for you! Do you have any idea how completely insulting that is?

Zion’s laugh came out sharp and ugly, dripping with venom. 

His eyes cut into Dad like knives, and his voice shook with fury.

“Decide what’s right for her?” he spat, eyes blazing.

“Have you even fucking thought—just once—that maybe she didn’t tell you because she doesn’t feel close enough to you? Because she can’t?” he snapped. His hand crushed mine tighter, grounding me even as his anger roared.

“Look at you, stepdaddy. Right now. Screaming at her. Demanding answers like she owes you something. When Mom found out, she held her. She told her it would be okay. That’s what a parent does. That’s what love looks like. But you? No. You stand there foaming at the mouth, making it about your pride.”

Zion took a step forward, eyes blazing, his words a snarl.

“You care more about being fucking right than being her father. More about your ego than her safety. And you wonder why she didn’t come to you?” 

He shook his head, spitting the words out like poison. 

“She doesn’t need your goddamn anger. She needs to feel safe. She needs someone to hold her together when the world is falling apart—and clearly, that’s not you.”

His voice dropped low, deadly.

“So yeah, maybe she didn’t tell you. And maybe that’s not her failure. Maybe that’s yours.”

Dad’s eyes narrowed, jaw tight, chest heaving. 

His face was a storm of fury and disbelief, but behind it, just for a heartbeat, a flicker of something else—wounded pride, maybe even reluctant respect. 

He said nothing, only stared, lips pressed into a hard line, letting Zion’s words hang in the air.

The room fell silent, the tension thick, and that was all the response he gave.