CHAPTER 65: 65: THE WORLD WITH YOU

The storm outside continued, its howling winds battering against the windows of the back office, rattling the panes like angry spirits of those killed in the other room. Thunder growled in the distance, a low, menacing sound that matched the turmoil in Zara’s chest.

She sat on the cold floor, cradling Leo in her arms. Her torn shirt did little to shield her from the chill creeping in through the cracks. Her breaths came shallow and quick, every nerve in her body still alight with the terror of what had just happened. The metallic tang of blood—her own and others’—lingered in the air, mixing with the acrid scent of gunpowder.

Her mind replayed the attack in jagged fragments: the leering faces, the rough hands tearing at her clothes, Leo’s terrified cries piercing through her screams. Then Winter had come in, guns blazing as always, and saved her—again.

Zara shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut as if it would banish the images burned into her mind. But it didn’t work. Every time she blinked, she saw the faces of the men who had cornered her, twisted with malice, and the lifeless expressions they wore when Winter was done with them.

Leo whimpered against her chest, his small fingers clutching desperately at her torn shirt. She forced herself to focus on him. He was alive. Safe. For now.

"Shh, baby," she murmured, her voice trembling but soft. She ran her fingers through his curls, trying to soothe him despite her hands shaking uncontrollably. "It’s okay. Mama’s got you. You’re safe now. I promise."

Her words felt hollow, even to her. How many times had she made that promise? How many times had she failed to keep it? The thought tightened her throat, but she swallowed hard, refusing to cry. Not now.

Not in front of Leo.

She pulled him back slightly, enough to see his face. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his little body trembling.

She scanned him for injuries, her hands moving over his arms, his legs, his face. "Are you hurt, baby? Did they hurt you?" Her voice cracked on the last word, the very idea too much to bear.

Leo shook his head, but his sobs didn’t abate. He buried his face in her shoulder again, his tiny hands gripping her like a lifeline. Zara exhaled shakily, relief mixing with a fresh wave of guilt.

She should have been stronger. She should have fought harder. How could she have let them corner her like that, with her child right there?

A shadow moved in the corner of her vision.

Winter.

He stood a few feet away, his tall frame almost filling the narrow space. His hands were at his sides, one still loosely gripping the gun he’d used to end the men who had dared to attack her. His shirt was splattered with blood—not his—and his expression was unreadable, though his eyes were sharp, fixed on her and Leo.

Zara’s grip on her son tightened instinctively. Her cheeks burned as she became hyper-aware of how she must look: her clothes torn and hanging off her shoulders, her hair dishevelled, her face streaked with tears and grime.

Vulnerable. Weak. Exposed.

She hated herself in that moment. How easily she had been overpowered, how helpless she had felt, that Winter had needed to save her again. This was the second time he’d stepped in, the second time she’d proven to be nothing more than a liability.

But Winter didn’t speak. He didn’t try to demand answers or offer hollow reassurances. Instead, he crouched down slowly, his movements measured, as if trying not to startle her. He set the gun on the floor beside him, his hands now empty, open. Non-threatening.

"Are you hurt?" His voice cut through the silence, low and steady. He sounded calm, but she could hear the edge beneath it—the barely contained anger still simmering from the fight. "Did they do anything to you or the kid?"

Zara shook her head quickly, not trusting her voice. She focused on Leo, her fingers brushing over his arms and legs, checking for any sign of injury even though she knew he was physically unharmed.

"Zara," Winter said, softer this time.

She flinched at the sound of her name, her chest tightening. She didn’t answer immediately. Her arms were wrapped protectively around the child, her face buried in his hair as she rocked him.

Finally, she looked up, her eyes red and glistening with tears. "I’m fine," she rasped, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. It wasn’t true, but she needed to say it. Needed to hold on to some semblance of control.

Winter didn’t look convinced. He reached up, shrugging off his jacket before stepping closer and holding it out to her. "Here."

Zara just stared at it, her mind unable to process the gesture. Then, slowly, she reached out and took it, draping it over her shoulders, murmuring a quiet "thank you" as she wrapped it around herself. The fabric was warm, and it smelled faintly of him—something woodsy and sharp. It was strangely comforting.

"Drink," Winter said, offering the water next. "You’re shaking."

Her fingers brushed his as she took the bottle, and she flinched at the contact, though she wasn’t sure why. He didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he didn’t comment. She twisted the cap off and took a sip, the cool liquid grounding her, if only slightly.

Winter nodded, his gaze shifting to Leo. The little boy had quieted slightly, though he still clung to Zara like a lifeline, his small body trembling with aftershocks of fear.

"Hey, buddy," Winter said, his voice gentler than she’d ever heard. He crouched down, keeping his movements slow. "You okay?"

Leo didn’t respond, burying his face in Zara’s chest."He’s scared," Zara said softly, her hand stroking Leo’s hair before she smoothed a hand over his back, her voice gentle but firm. "It’s okay, baby. He’s not going to hurt you."

Winter nodded, his jaw tightening. He straightened and stepped back, giving them space again.

For a long moment, the only sounds were the storm outside and Leo’s occasional sniffles. Zara felt exhaustion settle over her, her limbs heavy and aching. She shifted slightly, leaning against the wall as she continued to rock Leo.

She hated how exposed she felt, how raw. Winter had seen everything—her fear, her weakness, her desperation. And now he knew about Leo.

Her chest tightened at the thought. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know, least of all him.

What would he do now? Would he demand answers? Would he decide she wasn’t worth the trouble and leave them here?

"Zara." Winter’s voice pulled her from her spiralling thoughts. She looked up, startled to find him watching her with an expression that was almost...soft.

"You’re safe now," he said, his tone steady but not unkind. "No one’s going to hurt you or your kid. Not while I’m here."

The words hit her harder than she expected, a lump forming in her throat. Safe. The word lingered in the air, heavy with implications. Zara’s grip on Leo tightened as she met Winter’s gaze for the first time since the attack. His eyes were steady, unreadable, but there was no judgment there. Only something that looked like concern. Maybe even regret.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust that they were safe, at least for now. But a part of her still held back, wary and uncertain.

"Thank you," she said again, her voice barely audible.

Winter nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned and began rummaging through the room, checking shelves and drawers.

Zara watched him silently, her thoughts a chaotic mess.

She needed to think. To plan. City H was still their best option, but after this...how much more could she take before she finally broke? Could she confidently say that she could get her child to safety? Could she trust Winter to keep protecting them? Would he?

Minutes passed in silence, the storm outside a constant roar. Slowly, Leo’s sobs began to fade, his small body relaxing against her. Zara shifted him carefully, cradling him in her arms until his breathing evened out and he slipped into an exhausted sleep.

Winter returned, sitting down beside her without a word. He didn’t crowd her, keeping enough distance to give her space, but his presence was solid and grounding. Zara glanced at him briefly, her mind tugging between gratitude and vulnerability.

As exhaustion settled deep in her bones, she leaned against him. The motion was hesitant, almost instinctive, but she found herself resting her head lightly on his shoulder. Winter stiffened for a moment, as if caught off guard, but then relaxed, letting her be.

Only then did the tears come. Silent, unstoppable. They rolled down her cheeks, hot and bitter, as she clutched Leo to her chest and bowed her head. She didn’t make a sound, but the weight of her grief and fear filled the room.

Winter didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He just stayed where he was, close but not touching beyond her initial lean. His quiet acceptance made her feel less alone.

For now, this was all she needed.