CHAPTER 82
"Excuse me?" Zion's eyes darken, his expression shifting into something predatory. It’s like flipping a switch. One second, he looks amused, and the next, he's feral, his gaze boring into me like he can't decide if he wants to laugh or lash out. My heart pounds in my chest, the blood rushing so loud in my ears that it drowns out every other sound. I should be running, but I’m frozen, a rabbit caught in the hunter's sights.
He takes a step toward me, and I swear my body goes numb, the kind of paralysis that only sheer terror can induce. But somewhere deep inside, a tiny flicker of defiance pushes me to keep going, to not let him see me break. The words that come next aren't a product of bravery—they're born from sheer desperation, a need to reclaim even an ounce of power.
"You heard me. You’re a complete joke. You turned the entire college against me, acting like you’re untouchable," I snapped, my voice trembling yet resolute. "You’ve encouraged your followers to bully me, calling me a rat, a liar, a loser and all sorts of other insults! When the real loser here is you. Who cant even fight his fight"
Zion's lip curls in anger, his entire body going rigid with fury. His fists clench at his sides, and I know—*God*, I know—I should be terrified right now.
And I am.
Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to run, to back down, but I can't. I won’t let him walk all over me like I’m nothing.
He closes the distance between us in a single, menacing step, his presence so overwhelming it’s like the air has been sucked out of the room. I can feel the heat of his anger radiating off him, a toxic cloud threatening to swallow me whole. It's almost suffocating, but part of me almost wishes it would—anything to end this unbearable tension.
"Watch your mouth Snowflake!"
"And you'd better think twice about who you're bullying because I’m not afraid of you."
In truth, I wasn’t just scared—I was terrified.
Zion stood taller, puffing out his thin chest as he reached for me. His grip felt like iron as he clamped his hand around my forearm, pulling me close. His breath was hot against my face, and when I glanced around, desperate for a last-minute saviour, I caught his knowing smile.
"No one gives a damn what happens to you," he sneered.
“Let me go, you idiot!” I shouted, my voice shaky but defiant.
Before I could react, he yanked me closer, and I struggled against his hold, but it was no use. He had me trapped.
With a sudden jerk, Zion slammed me against the rough brick wall, pinning me there with his body. My head cracked painfully against the bricks, and stars danced in my vision. My heart raced, pounding like a jackhammer in my chest, but I felt paralyzed—frozen in panic, unable to move or breathe.
Then, out of nowhere, his mouth was on mine. His lips were dry and thin, and the kiss was forceful, unyielding. Confusion washed over me; it felt more like punishment than anything intimate. I couldn’t tell if he was enjoying this or if it was just an expression of his aggression.
The taste of alcohol on his breath was so overwhelming that I fought back the urge to gag, and I slammed my hands into his chest, surprising him enough to make him stumble back a step and break the kiss.
“What the hell?” I cursed, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my hoodie, desperate to erase the sensation.
“Why did you do that?”
He spat on the ground, a sneer twisting his lips. “Just trying to shut that smart mouth of yours.”
"You’re sick, you psycho!"
This felt wrong on so many levels, but a part of me couldn’t shake the strange, unsettling feeling that lingered after that kiss.
He lurched toward me again, and my heart dropped, confusion swirling in my mind.
Ronald steps in, his arm sliding between us, shoving Zion back before he can do something we'll both regret.
"She called me a psycho!" Zion hissed
"She's not worth it, Z," Ronald says firmly, his voice steady in the chaos.
"Don't let anything she says get to you." His grip on Zion's shoulder is tight, and for a second, I see the struggle in Zion’s eyes, the battle between his fury and the leash Ronald is holding him back with.
My legs feel like they're about to give out, but somehow I remain standing, my body trembling as I watch Zion being pulled away. The look he gives me over Ronald's shoulder is pure, unfiltered rage, a silent promise of violence and pain that sends a chill down my spine. I've made a mistake—another in a long line of them. And I know, without a doubt, that I'll be paying for this one.
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