CHAPTER 91
WINTER
“Where do you think you’re going?” Shane whispered, his voice low and slimy.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
“Let me go, you asshole!” I snapped, trying to drive my elbow into his stomach. Bad idea. The guy had abs like a brick wall, and the impact only hurt me more than it did him. Panic surged as I struggled against his hold, but Shane only tightened his grip. I’d never been in a situation like this before—never felt as unsafe as I do now—and it made me furious. There was no way I was letting him win.
"Too bad you're not my stepsister," Shane slurred, his words dripping with drunken arrogance. "I'd love to see you strutting around the house like this every day."
The disgusting insinuation made my stomach churn, but I forced a sharp smile, deciding to play along—for now.
"Really? New flash. That's what you'd be good for—just sitting there and watching. Because from where I’m standing, you’ve got absolutely nothing to offer. Hell, my pinky’s probably bigger than—" I gestured with a smirk, pointing directly at his crotch, "—whatever it is you think you’ve got down there."
It worked like a charm. Shane's eyes darkened as he spun me around, his bloated ego driving him to make a move. He reached for my chin, clearly convinced I wouldn’t fight back.
Big mistake.
Before he could lay a finger on me, I brought my knee up with every ounce of strength I had, landing a direct hit.
Bullseye.
"How's that, asshole?" I spat as Shane crumpled to the ground, groaning and clutching himself while I stood tall, glaring down at him.
“You bitch! What's wrong with you?” he wheezed, backing away in agony.
I was shaking, more with rage than fear at this point.
“What’s wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you ever touch me again!” I snapped, my voice trembling with fury.
Zion’s response was immediate, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. His heavy footsteps echoed as he closed the distance between us, his piercing gaze locking onto mine with a fire that sent a chill down my spine.
"From where I’m standing, Snowflake, you’re just begging for it," Zion growled, his voice dripping with threat.
“Strutting around in that barely-there swimsuit. Of course, the guys were going to stare at you like you’re some kind of meat. What did you think would happen?
His furious gaze flicked at his friends, his jaw clenching so tightly I thought it might snap. His fists curled at his sides, his voice sharp and biting.
“Don’t act like you didn’t see it. Or maybe you did see it, and you enjoyed it,” he spat.
“Is that what you like? Parading around like that, letting them think they’ve got a shot?”
His words stung, but I stood my ground, forcing my voice to steady.
“I’m not responsible for the way they look at me,” I shot back, my voice steady despite the storm brewing in his eyes. I squared my shoulders, refusing to back down under the weight of his glare.
“How was I supposed to know you’d show up with your drunk, loser friends?”
"You didn’t exactly give me a heads-up,” I added, my tone sharp and cutting. My fingers clenched into fists at my sides, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
Zion’s expression darkened further, the veins in his temple pulsing as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.
"My loser friends?” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. He took a step closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me.
“They’re my team, and this is my house. Or do I need your permission now to invite people over?”
There was something in his tone—something possessive, almost territorial—that made my heart race.
“Stop trying to make this my fault,” I snapped.
“You’re the one with the problem, Zion.”
His jaw worked furiously as he glared at me, his chest heaving with barely restrained anger.
“You’re damn right. I have a problem,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a simmering growl.
“And it’s you.”
His words dripped with disdain, but I stood my ground, heart hammering in my chest. There was no way I’d let Zion or anyone else make me feel like I was in the wrong for defending myself.
Maybe it was the helplessness I felt. Maybe it was genuine fear or the anger still coursing through my veins.
Perhaps it was the way these assholes acted like this treatment was okay. The laughter around me echoed like a taunt, a reminder of the rumours swirling through the school.
Whatever it was, something snapped inside me. Zion deserved to be punished, and I was just reckless enough to do something about it.
Without thinking, I spun on my heel and thrust my hands forward, shoving Zion with every ounce of strength I could muster. He stumbled back, surprise etched on his face before he toppled over the edge of the pool and splashed into the water. I blinked in disbelief for a moment, watching him disappear beneath the surface. And then, a grin spread across my face.
Zion resurfaced almost instantly, water streaming down his face and soaking his sandy hair. His dark blue eyes were ablaze with fury.
“My phone was in my pocket, you psycho bitch!” he shouted, the anger boiling in his voice.
That was my cue to leave. Skipping the towel, I bolted for the kitchen, water dripping from my skin and pooling on the floor behind me.
The laughter and chaos behind me erupted into a stampede of voices, the sound of stomping feet chasing after me like a herd of elephants. But I didn’t look back. I raced through the house, up the stairs, and finally slammed my bedroom door shut, flipping the lock into place just in time.
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