CHAPTER XXXIII

“C ombine the flour, sugar, and vanilla extract in a large mixer bowl until creamy. Add eggs, one at a time?—”

“Winter!” Tristan whined.

“Yep.” I smiled as he tilted his head upside down.

“Why are you reading the box?”

“Well, I have to read the instructions, bud,” I told him with a light chuckle.

“But you said you baked these all the time,” he said.

I gazed down at him, his impatience evident in his wide, innocent blue eyes.

“You want to add the chocolate chips, don’t you?” I arched my eyebrows in amusement.

As he stood tall, he slowly nodded twice, his dimples showing up as he tried to hide a smile.

“Well, before we do that, we need to add the rest of the ingredients first, okay?” I explained.

“Okay,” he sighed, a small smile on his lips.

My thoughts replayed the moments with Nico, his possessiveness bordering on obsession, and the violent act of breaking that man’s wrist. But being exposed, vulnerable, and at Nico’s mercy with my bare ass and pussy on display was a rush of excitement I never experienced before.

I didn’t know much about BDSM, but what he did to me... it certainly fell under that category.

In those moments, I felt more alive than I ever had and undeniably sexy. Sure, it scared the hell out of me at first, being exposed and vulnerable in that position, with him seeing all of me. But there was a thrill, a part of me that craved the sensation of being dominated.

Did that make me a freak?

Maybe, but as much as Nico’s ways were twisted, in some crazy way, he made me feel beautiful and worthy to be desired in such a primal way. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he kissed me and touched my body.

I had never wanted anyone so badly.

It was pathetic.

I was pathetic.

Shaking my thoughts free, I measured the flour right as Tristan suddenly sneezed, causing a cloud of flour to puff up around him.

“Whoa.” I chuckled. “You look like a flour monster.”

Tristan grinned, wiping away the white dust from his face. “I didn’t mean to turn into a monster,” he said as he giggled.

“It’s okay. You’re a cute little cookie monster,” I teased, ruffling his wheat brown hair.

Tristan’s brows furrowed as he mixed the ingredients in the bowl until they were creamy and smooth. “Can I add the chocolate chips now?” he asked eagerly.

I laughed at his enthusiasm. “Go ahead and sprinkle them in,” I said, extending the plastic cup of chips in his direction.

As we finished mixing the dough, I scooped out spoonfuls and placed them on the baking sheet. Tristan’s tiny hands shaped the dough into perfect rounds.

“Good job, Tristan.” I slid the tray into the oven. “You’re a natural cookie chef.”

“How long do we have to wait, Winter?” he asked while looking through the oven’s glass window.

I turned the timer on and winked at him. “When the timer goes off.”

Tristan pouted.

“Now, the best part. Time to clean up.”

Without complaint, he gathered the spoons and cups and tossed them into the sink, filling it with soap and warm water.

After a few minutes, the timer rang, and the kitchen filled with a sweet, buttery aroma, signaling the cookies were ready. I put on the oven mitts, printed with a music note design, and pulled out the tray, the cookies looking golden and ready to be devoured.

Tristan’s pupils dilated as he gazed hungrily at the cookies. His tongue darted out and moistened his lips. “Can I have one?” he asked innocently.

With a grin, I grabbed a fresh cookie and handed one to Tristan but quickly pulled it back. “What are the magic words?”

Tristan put his little finger on his chin and looked up at the ceiling as if in deep thought. He flashed a smile as if a light bulb had lit up in his mind. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he shouted, “Me want cookie! Me eat cookie!” while imitating the Cookie Monster’s voice, making eating gestures and adding the silly sound effects of “Om nom nom nom,” I burst out in uncontrollable laughter.

It was times like this that I wished Mom had more kids. Spending time with Tristan made me aware of that emptiness of not having siblings. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have a little brother or sister to look after. Someone I could teach to play the violin, sharing the music that had always been my solace. But then again, they would be on the run with me. A life I would never want for them, or anyone else. A loud knock on the door startled me out of those thoughts

“Stay here,” I told Tristan. But whoever was there kicked in my door, and I jumped back into the kitchen.

The moment that felt absolutely perfect and serene was gone when a man’s deep voice echoed throughout the apartment, bouncing off the walls with a jarring force.

“Where the fuck is my son?” the man yelled, and Tristan flinched.

I pulled Tristan behind me, shielding him from view. A tall man who looked like a lumberjack stood in the archway between the kitchen and living room and stared me down. He tilted his head to the side to avoid hitting it. He stroked his thick, long beard that had to be tied at the end. His blue eyes almost looked pale gray, and the hate in them made them darker. They were bloodshot, too, which meant he was either drunk or high.

This was Tristan’s father. Tabi told me how dangerous and abusive he was. One night, he beat her so bad, she could hardly open her eyes, but thankfully, someone called the cops and they arrested him. Since then, she filed a restraining order against him and moved three hours away, but now he was here. In my kitchen. How did he find Tristan? I needed to call 911, but my phone was in the freaking bedroom.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing with my son?” he snarled at me.

With a hushed tone, I said, “I’m a family friend and his babysitter.”

Tristan’s father stood in the kitchen, oozing authority. It was hard not to notice the striking resemblance between him and Tristan, with their blue eyes and wheat brown hair.

Tristan was clutching the back of my shirt tightly. His father slid his hands into his pockets and turned his attention toward Tristan, his piercing gaze now resting on him.

“Son,” he started sternly. “Go pack your shit. Now .”

Tristan’s grip on my shirt loosened, and he stepped back, slowly walking around me. He glanced at me, and his lips quivered. I gave him a small smile to let him know that everything was going to be okay, but my heart is racing, and my stomach felt like it was tied up in knots. My fingers itched to snatch Tristan back to my side to protect him.

Tristan passed his father, who laid his big hand on his little shoulder. “Do not come out until I say so, okay?” he told Tristan, who nodded in compliance but looked back at me with worry etched on his face. I gave him another smile, pleading with my eyes for him to leave and hopefully to call someone when he saw my phone.

Tristan’s dad looked at me and smirks. “Let’s play a game.” My mind raced with what that could mean.

Yeah, I didn’t want to play any more games.

He took a calculated step toward me.

I instinctively stepped back.

A slight smirk appeared on his face as he circled the table, sliding his finger around the edges.

I gulped nervously, waiting for him to act.

“I heard something interesting,” he began, “a phone call saying my girl and son moved to another city, far away from me while I was locked up. But that can’t be right because she knows better than to leave with my son.”

Before I could process his next move, he stood before me. He wrapped a hand around my neck, his eyes flashing with rage.

“Then after months of trying to find where she took my son,” he growled, his voice like thunder, “she left him with a stranger.”

I swallowed hard, mustering up the courage to respond, but his hands tightened. “I... I’m not —“

“Here is what’s going to happen,” he said, pulling my face closer to his. “You are going to tell me where my girl is, and if not...” He picked me up, and I panicked when my feet dangled off the floor.

“I ca-can’t breathe,” I pleaded, tears filling my eyes and blurring my vision.

His face twisted in a scowl, and he started to squeeze harder. He froze when the sound of a click came from behind him.

Enzo pressed the end of the barrel of a gun in the back of his head “Let her the fuck go,” he said in a murderous tone I had never heard him use before.

He slowly released me, and I tumbled to the ground. Enzo’s gaze shifted to me. “Are you good?”

“Yes,” I responded, shaking slightly and rubbing my neck.

He gave me a curt nod and pressed the gun harder into the man’s head. “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, his voice laced with contempt.

“None of your goddamn business,” he grit out but kept his disdainful gaze on me.

“You’re wrong. It is my business.” He pushed so hard that the man’s head jolted forward. “And you fucked with the wrong girl.”

“Fuck you,” he snarled.

A loud and piercing crack sliced through the air, his head snapping sharply to the side. The man fell to the ground from the impact, hitting the side of his head on the counter.

I cradled my face as the tears fell, landing on my lips. I looked down to see the man knocked out cold, blood running down the side of his face.

“Is he dead?”

“No, but he will be when Nico gets a hold of him,” Enzo muttered, tucking the gun in his back pocket.

“Winter?” I heard Tabi’s voice followed by a gasp. “Oh, my god!” She ran into the kitchen and halted at the scene in front of her. “Where’s Tris?” she asked in a panic.

“He’s okay. He’s in my room,” I told her.

“Enzo? What are you—” Tabi began to say but didn’t finish when she saw Tristan’s dad on the floor.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He’s out of jail!” she whisper-yelled breathlessly, running her hands through her hair. “Michael found us.”

“Tabi, you need to chill the fuck out,” Enzo warned her.

“You don’t understand, Enzo,” she said, tears falling down her face. “He’s going to kill me. I need to get out of here. I need to get my son.”

She pivoted on her heel, ready to bolt toward her son. But before she could take a single step, Enzo grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to stop.

“He’s not going to hurt you, do you understand?” Enzo said. “It will be taken care of.”

She looked into his eyes, and they stared at one another as if they were silently communicating. When Tabi’s face softened, she nodded and walked to my room.

Enzo turned to me, and his gaze narrowed at my neck. It was still sore from when Tristan’s father, Michael, gripped it. Enzo’s eyes turned a dark black, and his nostrils flared the more he stared at the bruises that were probably already forming. Enzo grabbed a pair of cuffs out of his pants, and I watched as he dragged Michael out of the apartment.

As soon as they disappeared, I hastily cleaned up the cookie mess left behind. My tears streamed down my cheeks, so I quickly wiped them away and splashed cold water on my face.

A few minutes later, Tabi came to stand in the kitchen and lunged at me, pulling me into a fierce hug. “I am so, so, sorry, Winter,” she whispered through her cries.

“It’s not your fault,” I told her, giving her a squeeze.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked, wiping the wetness from her eyes.

“No, not bad,” I reassured her with a sad smile.

“God,” she exclaimed and placed her hands on her hips, looking to the sink at the mess from making the cookies. “I didn’t know he was released from prison,” she said, turning back to me.

I shook my head. “Tabi, it’s not your fault. It’s not on you.”

“But he attacked you,” Tabi replied, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It should’ve been me.”

I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t say that. I would rather it had been me than you or Tristan,” I whispered.

“You know, he wasn’t always like this,” Tabi explained, her voice cracking. “He grew up in an abusive house and started using drugs when he was thirteen. When we got together, he was clean. But then, when I got pregnant, everything changed. I don’t know what happened, but he became aggressive. It was like a switch flipped.”

I listened intently, my hands still clasped around hers, offering silent support and reassurance.

“I did everything I could to protect him from his father.”

“Did he ever hit him?” Dread polled in my stomach at the thought of anyone hurting Tristan. He was so tiny, so vulnerable.

“No,” she said immediately, her voice firm. “But one day, Tristan walked in on Michael attacking me. I?—”

A chill ran through me. “I’m so sorry, Tabi.”

She turned to me, managing a small, bittersweet smile. “You’re the one who was attacked, and you’re apologizing to me?”

I returned her smile. “But it wasn’t me who was abused for so long,” I reminded her.

She nodded, her expression turning somber as she looked away. “What do you think Enzo did with him?” I could see her swallow hard, fear etched across her features.

I released her hands and leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

“Do you think...you know...did they get rid of him?” Her eyes were filled with weariness and fear.

I shrugged. “If they did, would that bother you?”

She paused, considering my question. “I don’t wish death or harm upon anyone, but Michael was going to do something worse to you. So, I guess in a way, the world is a better place without him in it.”

Just then, Enzo walked back into the room and looked between me and Tabi. “Tabi, Miguel is here to take you and Tristan home. He’ll stay watch.”

“What? Why?” she asked, panic in her voice.

“We need to find out how he found you. Plus, we don’t know if he had anyone following you. You could still be in danger.”

“Oh, God,” she cried. “This isn’t happening.” She wrapped her arms around her body, shaking her head.

“It’s going to be okay,” I told her, rubbing her arms.

“She’s right,” Enzo agreed. “You’re safe with us around. We won’t let anything happen to you or Tristan.”

“And Winter?” She glanced at me, then back to Enzo. “Are you going to watch over her?”

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly.

* * *

After Miguel showed up and took Tristan and Tabi home, I headed to the shower while Enzo called a friend to help fix my door. At least I wouldn’t have to miss out on getting my security deposit back.

I put on my long sleeve pajama set and walked out to the hall with a towel wrapped around my head when I heard Liam’s voice.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

I noticed Enzo reaching for his gun and ran to the front door to prevent him from shooting Liam.

“It’s okay, Enzo,” I told him.

“Hi Liam,” I addressed him by name, letting Enzo know Liam was not a threat.

Enzo slightly stepped aside to give us space but stayed close by.

“Winter, what the hell is going on?” Liam asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Who did that to you?” he said, reaching out for my neck, but he was intercepted by Enzo.

“Don’t touch her. You can talk, but do not touch her,” Enzo warned, giving Liam a stern look.

Liam slowly raised his hands in the air in surrender and took a step back. “I wasn’t going to hurt her,” he bit out.

“Did you need something, Liam?” I asked him, hoping to divert his attention away from Enzo.

I saw some of the neighbors peeking out of their doors, eyes wide with curiosity and fear. “Stay inside! Lock your doors!” Enzo barked.

“What the hell happened to your door?” Liam asked, his brow furrowed.

Um....” I hesitated, struggling to find the right words, but all I could come up with was, “I thought I smelled gas and my uncle—” I gestured awkwardly toward Enzo, who raised an eyebrow at me, but I pushed on despite his skeptical look. “He busted down the door. But it turns out there wasn’t any gas.” I let out a half-hearted chuckle.

Liam’s expression shifted, skepticism hardening his features. “You know you’re full of shit, right?” He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. Enzo shifted protectively to close the gap, but I held up a hand, signaling him to back off.

Liam searched my face as if looking for the truth. “Are you in danger? If you are, you can stay with me.”

I gave him a lopsided smile. “I’m fine, Liam. I promise.”

“Liar,” he muttered, his voice filled with frustration. “If you won’t stay with me, then I’m staying with you.”

“No, you are not,” Enzo said, his tone hard as steel.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Liam retorted, but his eyes remain locked on mine.

“Liam,” I warned him, hoping he heard the seriousness in my tone. Enzo could hurt him without a second thought, and I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t have someone else get hurt because of me.

“You don’t have a fucking door!” Liam barked at me, and I jumped back a step, in shock at his tone.

“Back the fuck up!” Enzo snapped, already positioned behind Liam with his gun drawn and aimed at the back of his head.

“Okay.” I was officially done with this shit. “Liam, my uncle is going to look after me. I appreciate your concern, but I think it’s best that you leave and let him handle it.”

He didn’t move, just stared at me, his gaze pressing down like an anchor. I sighed and wrapped my arms around his waist to assure him that I was fine. “Liam, seriously, I’m good. Please go home and we’ll catch up another day.”

A few moments later, his body relaxed and he returned the hug. “Okay, but my offer still stands. There’s no expiration date on that.”

I smiled against his chest. “Thanks, buddy.” He pulled back and glanced once more at Enzo, giving him a pointed look, and then gave me one last smile before walking to his apartment.

I just wanted to crawl underneath my bed sheets to sleep this nightmare away and wake up as if nothing happened.