CHAPTER 247

**WINTER**

"Zion .."

I jerked awake, heart hammering, when Dad’s voice cut through the room—shouting Zion’s name like the world was on fire. My chest tightened, and a sick weight settled in my stomach.

Something distant, frantic, reached my ears—Zion’s voice, rough, commanding, 

“Stay with her… Don’t let her out of your sight!” My pulse skyrocketed.

I scrambled out of bed, feet hitting the floor, panic making me clumsy. I ran to the window, yanking the curtain aside, scanning the darkened grounds.

“Dad… what’s happening? Where’s he going?” I whispered, voice trembling.

The wind tugged at the curtains, rustling them violently, and the familiar safety of my room felt like a lie. 

My hands gripped the windowsill, knuckles white, and I leaned closer, straining to catch any detail in the darkness.

Dad’s jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on something I couldn’t see. He shook his head, voice tight, strained: 

Dad’s jaw was tight, his eyes locked on some unseen point in the yard. He shook his head slowly, voice low and strained:

“He… he just jumped out the window… that boy is insane, completely reckless…”

I froze for a heartbeat, disbelief clawing at my chest. 

“Jumped out the window… why would he—” 

My words caught in my throat, fear twisting my stomach into knots, heavy and merciless, spreading until it stole the air from my lungs.

Dad ran a hand through his hair, eyes still fixed on the yard below, voice sharp and tense:

“I don’t know, Winter… I swear I don’t. The boy doesn’t think—he just reacts.... he’s impulsive, reckless—always has been.

Half the shit he does makes no damn sense, and I’m sick of trying to figure it out. He saw something—or someone—and he tore after them like a madman. Reckless as hell… and damn if it doesn’t drive me insane every time.”

I froze, chest tightening, my hands trembling against the windowsill. My stomach lurched, bile rising, as his words sank in.

“…Who did he see?” I whispered, my voice barely more than a quiver.

A cold pit twisted in my stomach, and dread coiled tighter with each heartbeat. Deep down, I already feared I knew the answer—and the thought made my chest tighten, my throat raw.

But Dad didn’t answer. 

His jaw was set, his eyes locked on the darkness beyond the window as if the shadows themselves held the truth.

I pressed my palms against the cold frame, leaning out, desperate for a glimpse—anything, even the smallest flicker of him out there. 

Zion.

But there was nothing. Just restless night air and the ripple of curtains.

My chest squeezed tight, breath catching. Every instinct in me screamed he was in danger. 

My mind spun, sick and frantic—what had happened while I slept? 

What had I missed? 

The thought gnawed at me, sharp and merciless, until dread pooled in my stomach like lead.

I pressed myself against the window, peering into the shadows below. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it might burst from my chest. 

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes finally locked on movement—a blur at the edge of the grounds, a dark figure slipping toward the gate. 

And then him. Zion. His silhouette tears after it with reckless speed.

A cold knot of dread twisted in my stomach. My breath came fast and shallow, and I could barely think through the panic clawing at my mind. 

What was happening? 

Who was out there? 

Was it……

A thief or..the stalker. 

My stomach dropped. 

Had he been back? 

Had Zion seen him and taken off after him without a second thought?

I gripped the window frame so tightly my knuckles ached, eyes darting across the dark grounds. 

Dad’s voice tore through the night, raw and laced with fury, cutting through the panic like a blade.

“Is he out of his fucking mind?!” he bellowed, fists clenching so tight his knuckles went white. 

“Charging out there after… whoever the hell that was—like a goddamn lunatic in the middle of the night. Has he completely lost his fucking mind?!”

His voice cracked with rage, but his eyes—wild, frantic—betrayed the fear he couldn’t hide.

“That man could be armed! And he’s tearing after him like a goddamn lunatic! What the hell is he thinking?!”

“Armed…?” I whispered, disbelief and fear twisting together in my chest.

A cold knot of dread coiled tight in my stomach, each breath shallow and frantic. 

Panic clawed at my mind, scrambling my thoughts, leaving me frozen with terror at what might happen next.

I swallowed hard, panic clawing at my throat.

“What if he gets hurt?!” I whispered, voice shaking, terror lacing every word. 

My legs moved before my brain could stop them, and I spun toward the door.

“Winter, stop!” Dad’s voice snapped, low and dangerous. His hands shot out, gripping my arms like iron. 

“You’re not going out there. Do you hear me? You’re staying put. I’ll go—I’ll handle this.”

I tore against his grip, panic igniting every nerve.

“I’m not staying here while he’s out there—he could be hurt! Not a chance!”

My chest heaved, heart hammering so loud I swore he could hear it. Every fibre of me screamed to run, to reach him, to make sure he was okay.

Dad’s jaw tightened, eyes dark and stormy. 

“Winter… listen to me!”

I shook my head, refusing to obey. My fear for him had eclipsed everything else.

For a fleeting second, I wrenched free—but it was useless.

In an instant, his hand shot out, seizing my wrist with iron force, yanking me back.

Hard.

Unyielding.

I stumbled, fighting to break free, but his grip was like steel.

“I said you stay the fuck here!” he growled, voice dropping into a low, feral edge that made my blood run ice-cold.

“I WON’T!” I screamed, my voice raw and jagged, panic clawing up my throat as I thrashed against Dad’s iron grip, desperate to break free.

“HE’S OUT THERE! HE—HE COULD BE HURT! I HAVE TO GO AFTER HIM!”

“WINTER! Calm the fuck down!” Dad bellowed, his hands locking onto my shoulders like iron as I twisted and thrashed to break free.

“Stop panicking! I’m going after him, okay? Nothing’s going to happen to him… I promise you, do you hear me?!” he added, voice rough but urgent.

I shook my head violently, panic clawing up my throat. 

“No!”

The door slammed open, and Jenny burst in, face pale, eyes wide, breath coming fast.

“William! I heard the alarm—what the hell is going on?”

Her gaze swept over me, landing on my wild eyes and trembling hands. 

“Winter—are you okay?!” Jenny’s voice wavered, thick with worry.

“No… I’m not okay,” I choked out, panic clawing at my throat. 

“Zion… he jumped out of my window… chasing someone… what if it’s the stalker? What if something happens to him?”

Jenny’s hand shot to her mouth, eyes widening in sheer horror.

“What?!” she gasped, her gaze darting to William, then snapping back to me, disbelief and fear written across every line of her face.

“William—go after him! Call the police! Do something!” Her voice cracked, urgency slicing through the room like a knife.

“I’m going,” William growled, jaw tight, eyes flashing with controlled fury.

“Both of you stay put. Do not follow me.”

“What! No!” Jenny snapped, her voice trembling yet sharp with determination. 

“That’s my son—I’m coming too!”

William spun on her, fists clenched, his voice dropping low, dangerous, laced with iron.

“No! You stay here!”

His eyes snapped to me, sharp and unforgiving. 

“Both of you—no arguments! Every second wasted is a risk. I need to find Zion, now. I mean it—stay put!”

“I’m coming with you—” I started, pushing past him, but before I could take more than two steps, Dad’s voice slammed into me like a wall.

“No! And I fucking mean it.” His hand clamped down on my arm, firm, unshakable, his eyes burning into mine. 

For a moment, I froze, caught between defiance and the iron in his tone.

Then he was gone—out the door, heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs.

Tears burned down my cheeks, hot and unrelenting, blurring everything in a haze of panic. 

My chest heaved violently, each breath jagged, as fear tore through me like a living thing, twisting my stomach into knots. 

My mind refused to shut up—images of him in danger flashing faster than I could process.

What if the stalker cornered him?

What would he do to him..

My thoughts jerked violently from one terrifying possibility to the next.

The thought made bile rise in my throat. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it could shatter my ribs.

And then the worst scenarios—ruthless, violent, impossible to ignore—swept through my mind like a tidal wave. 

The mutilated cat… lying on our doorstep, bloodied and lifeless… Ethan… bound, brutally beaten, strapped to a chair, murdered …

“No!” I screamed, voice raw and ragged, shaking violently as I clutched my mouth to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. Every fibre of me screamed to move, to run, to reach him before it was too late.

I couldn’t stay here. 

I wouldn’t. 

I had to get to him.

I bolted for the door, my feet flying down the stairs before I could even think. I didn’t care if it was reckless. 

I didn’t care if Dad was furious. Zion was out there, and nothing was going to keep me from him.

The door flung open just as I reached it—and there he was. Zion. 

Dishevelled, dirt smudged across his face, clothes torn, chest heaving as if he’d been running a marathon.

He didn’t notice me at first, head bent over his phone, thumbs moving fast, completely absorbed.

Then his gaze lifted, and his eyes widened in surprise, landing on me standing frozen in the doorway. 

“Snowflake…what’s the matter? Why are you crying?” His voice was low, worried, almost ragged.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. 

My fear, my relief, everything—bursting at once—I ran, closing the distance in a heartbeat, and threw myself into his arms, wrapping every ounce of me around him.

He stiffened for a second, startled, but I didn’t care. I clung to him, hiding my face in his shoulder, letting the tremor of my tears shake through me.

He tightened his arms around me, holding me just as fiercely, as if letting go even for a second would shatter him. His chest pressed against mine, his heartbeat hammering against my own.

I could feel every tense muscle in him, every tremor of adrenaline still lingering, and I clung tighter, as if I could absorb his strength through my skin. My fingers dug into his back, memorising the warmth, the solidity of him.

I buried my face against him, breathing in the familiar scent—the mix of him, sweat, dirt, and something undeniably Zion. It grounded me, anchored me after the chaos, the fear, the panic.

He lowered his head, brushing his lips against the top of mine, a quiet anchor in the chaos, and I breathed him in too, letting the faint smell of smoke and dirt mix with the scent of him. 

Every inhale, every exhale was a tether, a lifeline, and for the first time since the alarm had sounded, I felt—if only for a moment—that he was truly here. That he was safe.

“Shh… It’s okay,” he murmured into my hair, voice low, rough with adrenaline and worry. I didn’t respond, just clung tighter, letting the silence between us speak what words could not.

" I’m here… I’ve got you.”

And I let myself believe it.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Dad standing there, jaw tight, arms crossed, watching—but I didn’t care. 

Zion was here. He was safe. 

That's all that mattered.