CHAPTER 89

**WINTER**

I sat on the floor, my back pressed against the bedframe, arms wrapped tightly around my knees. 

The weight of the day settled over me, pressing down with a relentless heaviness.

Tears slipped down my face, but I barely noticed. I stared at the wall, my mind spinning in circles, trying to make sense of it all. 

What had I done to him? 

What had I done to make Zion hate me so much? To turn him from the person who used to be my best friend into someone so cruel and vengeful?

I swiped at my cheeks, but the tears kept falling, hot and relentless. Once, Zion had been the person I trusted most in the world. I thought I knew him better than anyone, as we were two halves of the same whole. 

We used to talk for hours about everything and nothing, our laughter filling the air like music as if the world beyond us didn’t matter. 

But now…now, he was a stranger. How had it come to this? How had the boy I cared for turned into someone so cold, so cruel, so consumed by hate? 

If he blamed me for Dad marrying his mom, then he was crazier than I thought. That wasn’t on me. I had no control over it. So why did it feel like I’d betrayed him in some way? 

Like I’d hurt him without even realizing it?

I buried my face in my knees, frustration and hurt squeezing my chest tight. How did we end up here? How did someone who was once my closest friend turn into this? What did I do to deserve this kind of hate?

A heavy pressure settled on my chest, so suffocating it was hard to breathe. I missed my mom—I missed her every single day. 

"I hate being here, Mom," I whispered into the empty room, my voice barely audible over the suffocating silence. 

Gripping my phone, I docked it by the bed and cranked the volume up, letting the music flood the space. The pounding rhythm was the only thing strong enough to drown out the chaos of thoughts spiralling through my mind.

The frustration, the loneliness, the mess with Zion—it all piled up until I was teetering on the edge of breaking. My throat tightened the sting of unshed tears burning behind my eyes. But I clenched my jaw, determined not to cry anymore. 

Zion wasn’t worth my tears. 

I climbed onto the bed, curling up against the sadness that tried to creep in, and at some point, exhaustion took over. 

.......

I drifted into a restless sleep, the music fading into the background. When I woke up, the room was shrouded in darkness, the playlist long finished. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silvery ribbons of light across the floor. I groggily reached for my phone. It was past nine. 

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, sitting up. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep for that long. 

The house was quiet. 

I opened the bedroom door a crack and peeked down the hallway. A faint glow from downstairs was the only sign of life. Most of the staff had probably gone home, except for Walter, who always lingered late. I considered heading to the kitchen for something to eat, but my stomach twisted with unease. The thought of food didn’t appeal to me. 

What I needed was an escape.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed a simple black bathing suit from my dresser and slipped into it. The cool evening air hit my skin as I made my way to the pool, my bare feet silent against the floor. 

The water shimmered beneath the moonlight, and I dove in, letting the shock of it jolt my senses awake. 

I swam slowly at first, savouring the coolness that enveloped me, the rhythmic pull of my arms through the water calming my restless thoughts. 

Each lap dulled the sharp edges of my emotions, the anger and hurt softening with every stroke. The stillness of the night wrapped around me like a blanket, and for a few minutes, I almost felt peaceful. 

The weight in my chest lightened, and I let out a deep breath as I finished another lap, emerging from the water and running my fingers through my wet hair.

But the peace was short-lived. The sharp sound of laughter and cheers shattered the quiet, pulling me back to reality. As I brushed the water from my face and smoothed back my hair, a flicker of movement at the edge of the pool caught my eye. 

My stomach twisted when I saw him. Zion stood there, his intense gaze fixed on me, unrelenting and predatory, like a hunter sizing up its next target.

And, of course, he wasn’t alone.

Ronald hovered behind him, glancing between Zion and me, an uneasy smirk tugging at his lips. 

“I’ll grab drinks,” he said, his voice cutting through the thick tension hanging in the air. Without waiting for a response, he turned and disappeared back inside, leaving me alone with Zion.

Zion didn’t move at first, just stood there, his intense eyes tracking my every move. Then, without a word, he strode to one of the deck chairs and dropped into it with an air of casual dominance. 

His gaze never wavered, watching me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered—or the only thing he wanted to destroy. 

It grated on my nerves, made worse by the fact that he wasn’t alone. 

Besides Ronald and Clark, a handful of other football jocks had wandered onto the patio. I recognized most of them from classes, even if I had zero interest in knowing their names. 

They were the kind of guys who thought being on the football team made them invincible, untouchable. If they put all their brain cells together, they might, just *might* form half a functioning brain. 

When you were as self-absorbed as Zion, you made sure to surround yourself with people dumber than you, just to feel superior. Zion loved playing king, and with a last name like Royal, he made sure no one ever forgot it.

A tall, dark-haired guy—Shane, I think, though I couldn’t be bothered to remember—crouched at the edge of the pool, his lips twisting into a smirk. 

“Damn, I was looking forward to a swim,” he said, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. Then he looked back at his buddies, a cruel gleam in his eyes. “But it looks like someone already took a shit in the pool.”

Laughter erupted from the group, their voices blending into one obnoxious roar. 

Of course, Zion wasn’t the only one gunning for me—he had his entire crew behind him now. Oh, so it wasn’t enough to stick the college bitches on me; he needed his football team to jump in too? 

Real brave, Zion. 

You can’t fight your own battles, so you send in the goons. 

I stood still, treading water in the centre of the pool, even as a tight knot formed in my stomach. 

There were eight of them—Zion, Clark, Ronald, and the rest of their muscle-bound cronies. And only one of me. The weight of their presence stirred a ribbon of fear inside me, but I refused to show it. I wasn’t about to let them see me break. Not now.
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