CHAPTER 266

**Z I O N**

The drive to campus felt longer than it ever had any right to, even with Winter sitting right beside me.

Every red light, every car crawling in front of us, every second that kept us trapped in this slow-moving box instead of somewhere I could do something — it all scraped at my nerves like sandpaper.

Winter sat beside me in the passenger seat, her fingers tapping against her thigh in a rhythm she probably didn’t realise she was doing.

Nervous.

Trying to look calm, pretending she wasn’t watching every passing face through the window like they might leap out at her.

I noticed everything.

Her breathing.

The tiny tremble in her fingers.

The way she pulled her hoodie sleeve down just a bit, like she needed the barrier.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white.

Whoever was stalking her—whoever dared to touch her—had no idea they were one mistake away from disappearing off this earth.

Behind us, two cars are tailing:
Ro driving one, Clark riding shotgun.

Harry is driving the other, Ariel and Claire in the back.

Two cars filled with people I trusted.

And still, it didn’t feel like enough.

Winter glanced at me. 

Winter looked at me again, brow creasing slightly.

“Zion… you’re clenching your jaw so hard I can hear it.”

“Good,” I muttered, not taking my eyes off the road.

She let out a soft, almost amused breath.

“Relax .”

“Relax?” I barked a low, humourless laugh, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

“Snowflake, I’m two seconds away from turning this car around and locking you in your damn room.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

I didn’t stop.

“In fact,” I muttered, voice dropping darker, 

“If I had my way, I’d wrap you in cotton wool, chain you to your bed, and lock the door so tight no one could even look at you, let alone reach you.”

Her eyes widened just a fraction.

I wasn’t joking.

Not even a little.

She rolled her eyes, trying to brush it off, but her pulse jumped—I saw it, felt it.

“Not happening,” she said lightly.

“I have a life, remember?”

“You have a stalker,” I corrected, my voice slicing through the air, low and sharp.

“And you’re walking around acting like he’s a fucking myth.”

She shifted, staring out the window for a moment before speaking again—quieter, hesitant.

“What if he’s not from our college?” she asked quietly, voice tinged with worry. 

“Or this guy isn’t even on campus? Then what?

What if he’s just… out there? What do we do then?”

Something cold and primal snapped awake in my chest.

I kept one hand on the wheel, the other gripping hers, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, scanning every car, every shadow. 

“Then I’ll find him,” I said, voice dropping to something lethal. 

“I don’t care if he’s hiding in another city, another country—or the pit of Hell itself. I’ll track him down.”

My hand slid over hers, not gently—purposefully—my fingers curling around her palm until she had no choice but to feel every beat of how tightly I held on.

I didn’t soften.

Didn’t temper.

Didn’t pretend.

“I’ll hunt him,” I growled, my thumb stroking the back of her hand in a slow, claiming sweep. 

“I’ll rip apart every corner of this fucking world if that’s what it takes.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, unsure if she should pull away or lean in.

I tightened my grip just enough to remind her she was mine to protect.

Her lips parted, the smallest exhale slipping out.

“I don’t care if he’s buried himself underground or crawled into whatever sewer pit spawned him. He can hide wherever the fuck he wants.”

My jaw locked.

“He doesn’t get to breathe near you,” I said, my tone rough, edged with something possessive and dangerous. 

“He doesn’t get to look at you, follow you, think about you.”

I leaned closer, steering wheel in one hand, her in the other.

“If he’s smart, he’ll run.”

A dark, humourless smirk tugged at my mouth.

“And if he’s stupid…”

My gaze dragged over her face like a vow.

“I’ll enjoy teaching him why he should never have touched what’s mine.”

“If he’s after you, he’s as good as dead. I’ll tear him out even if he’s hiding in hell.”

She stared at me, stunned into stillness—her heartbeat practically echoing in the small space between us.

Her fingers tightened around mine.

The kind of tight that meant she didn’t want to let go.

And it did something violent to my chest—pain and relief and something I couldn’t name.

........

The car rolled into the campus lot, and my entire body shifted gears.

From possessive bastard to hunter.

I parked in the closest spot to the library entrance and killed the engine.

I stepped out and rounded the front of the car, eyes sweeping every face, every movement, every door, every student walking past. 

Nothing suspicious. 

Nothing off.

But it only took one second. 

One shadow.

I opened her door.

“Come on.”

Winter stepped out, her bag slung over her shoulder—and instantly, she instinctively moved closer to me. 

Barely an inch, but I felt it like it was a hand around my ribs.

Behind us, the others pulled in.

Car doors slammed shut.

Shoes hit pavement.

Everyone instantly shifted into alert mode.

Ro stretched like he was prepping for a fight, rolling his shoulders with a crack that echoed across the parking lot.

Harry was already stone‑faced, scanning every corner like he was downloading the entire environment into his brain.

Ariel tied her hair up in a sharp, efficient motion, eyes flicking everywhere—fast, assessing, ready.

Claire walked with purpose, jaw set, looking like she’d personally punch the stalker if he showed up within arm’s reach.

And Clark—

Clark was bouncing on the balls of his feet, energy buzzing through him like he’d had twelve Red Bulls. 

His eyes were wide, bright, eager in a way that made me want to strangle him and shake him at the same time. 

“Stick to the plan,” I told them, my voice all business. 

“Check your areas. Message if anything feels wrong. Not looks—feels.”

“Got it,” they echoed.

Ro and Claire turned toward the arts building, still bickering under their breath.

Harry and Ariel headed for science.

Clark slipped silently toward the tech labs.

Winter touched my arm lightly. “Library?”

I nodded once, jaw tight.

We walked side by side toward the entrance, and I stayed exactly half a step behind her—not enough to crowd, but enough to intercept anything that moved wrong.

As soon as we passed the glass doors, the temperature changed—cold, quiet, the heavy hush of book dust and whispered conversations.

Winter’s shoulders loosened a little.

But mine didn’t.

The library was quieter than usual when we walked in—no sign of Damien. 

Fucking moron. 

I was about to head deeper inside when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I stopped, jaw tightening when I saw the name.

Clark.

Of course.

I exhaled sharply and glanced at Winter.

“Take a seat,” I told her, voice low. 

“I’ll be right there.”

She nodded without question—and walked toward the far end of the library. 

She chose one of four oversized armchairs circling a table cluttered with abandoned books and magazines. Even while lifting the phone to my ear, my eyes stayed on her.

“Yeah,” I answered flatly.

Clark immediately started rambling, and I braced myself.

“So… funny story,” he began, breathless like he’d just run a marathon. 

“This student comes in with his arm all in a sling, right? And I’m thinking, ‘Hmm… could be the stalker, maybe pretending his arm’s broken to be sneaky.’ So, naturally, I do what any rational person would do—I grab him, pin him to the wall, and, uh… forcefully remove the bandage to check. And… surprise! Yep. Totally broken. Oopsie!”

Jesus Christ

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Clark, you absolute menace.

“You what?!” I muttered under my breath, but my eyes never left Winter.

“Clark.”

“What? I fixed it! Well—not fixed it fixed it, but I re-wrapped it and—”

I tuned him out.

Winter had settled into the chair, setting her small stack of paperbacks on the low table. 

She slid her purse beside her and tucked one leg underneath her as she picked up a book and started reading. 

Completely unaware. 

Completely unguarded.

My girl needed to be more aware of her surroundings. 

I was going to have to fix that.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

And I swear I’m not a damn stalker…

But standing here with my phone pressed to my ear while she sits across the library like that?

Yeah. I probably look like one.

Clark’s voice is blaring in my ear —

“And then he started crying—okay, not crying, but definitely watery eyes, but I swear—”

“Clark,” I repeated, sharper this time.

He kept talking.

I barely listened.

Winter turned a page, her brow softening, eyes absorbed in whatever she was reading. 

I tried to catch the title, leaning just slightly—but from here the angle was wrong. 

Damn it. 

Curiosity gnawed at me; I wanted to know what she liked, what kind of stories kept her attention so completely she didn’t notice the world around her.

A couple at the table got up, gathered their things, and walked away, leaving Winter alone.

Where the fuck was Damien?

He still hadn’t shown up.

He messaged her, made a big deal about the assignment, and then just… didn’t turn up? 

Fucking Unbelievable.

Clark, of course, was still rambling. 

“…so yeah, totally broken arm—oopsie—”

I cut him off, voice low and sharp—sharper than I intended, but I didn’t bother reeling it back.

“Clark—only call me if you actually find something concrete. Not theories. Not guesses. Something real. Got it?”

“Uh… yeah, okay… whatever,” he muttered, sounding both defensive and embarrassed.

I didn’t wait. 

Didn’t indulge.

I just exhaled through my teeth and snapped the phone shut, irritation pulsing hot under my skin.

Just when I thought I might finally get a second to breathe, some clueless little shit 
I’d never seen before wandered over and plopped into the chair directly across from her.

Damn it.

Winter didn’t even look up. She was so deep in her assignment that she didn’t notice him at all.

I did.

Oh, I noticed everything.

My grip tightened around the phone.

If that kid said one word to her—

One.

I’d make sure he regretted ever setting foot in this library.

Winter shifted, turning another page, oblivious to the fact that someone else had entered her little bubble of quiet.

Yeah.

Definitely needed to teach her to be more aware.

And I was about to start right now.

I started moving toward them, each step deliberate, my eyes never leaving the idiot sitting across from Winter. 

My girl was lost in her own world, completely oblivious to the fact that the guy sitting across from her had eyes locked on her like a heat-seeking missile aimed at a bonfire. 

Thank God I came with her, because she was doing a terrible job of keeping herself safe. 

He could be anyone—some creep ogling her, or worse. Hell, he could be Jack the Ripper, and she probably wouldn’t even notice.

Everfibreer in me screamed to move faster, to slam into him and make him understand without words that she wasn’t to be touched, bothered, or interrupted.

As I closed the distance, my gaze flicked to his arms, scanning instinctively for any sign of injury—bruising, stiffness, a tucked wrist, anything he might’ve been hiding. Nothing.

But the idiot was wearing a thick, oversized jacket, sleeves bunched at the wrists, fabric swallowing half his hands.

Perfect.

Just fucking perfect.

He could’ve been hiding a knife, a bruise, a sling—hell, an entire cast up his arm—and I wouldn’t know from here. 

My jaw locked.

My steps got faster. 

My focus stayed razor‑sharp—split between the unknown threat across from her and 

Winter herself, still curled into her seat like nothing in the damn world could touch her.

But something could.

Someone could.

And I wasn’t letting that happen.