Chapter 143: 143

Winter stood in place for a moment after Zara disappeared into the base with Leo, his fingers flexing unconsciously at his sides. He hadn’t made a mistake with this decision right?

Ima nudged him lightly with her elbow, an easy grin on her face. "Damn. Didn’t know you could look domesticated."

Winter shot her a flat look, but she chuckled.

"Come on," she said, jerking her head toward the other side of the street. "We’re not far."

Winter rolled his shoulders, exhaling slowly before following her.

*****

The place Ima led him to wasn’t much different from the rest of the sector—an old apartment complex that had been reinforced with makeshift barricades. It looked lived in, which meant they had been here for a while. That, in itself, set off a quiet alarm in Winter’s mind.

"Why here?"

But those thoughts were shoved aside the moment they stepped through the door.

Because suddenly—

"WINTER?!"

The shout barely registered before someone barreled into him at full force.

Winter staggered back, catching himself just in time before arms locked around his ribs. He tensed instinctively—then froze.

The voice. The scent of sweat, metal, and old leather. The warmth of a body that was all muscle and bone.

"No way—"

Winter’s arms moved before he could think, gripping them tight. "Miles."

The man in front of him pulled back, disbelief flashing in his storm-grey eyes. He looked rough—scarred, leaner than before, but still, the same Miles Winter had fought side by side with for years.

"You son of a bitch," Miles breathed. And then he punched him.

Winter took the hit without flinching.

Miles shook out his fist, scowling. "That’s for making me think you were dead."

Winter huffed a small laugh, rubbing his jaw. "Good to see you too."

More voices, more movement—people filtering in from different rooms. Faces Winter never thought he’d see again.

Marcus. Miles. Naomi. Ima.

All of them had made it.

And now they were here.

The realization sent a strange ripple through him—warmth and disbelief tangled together into something thick and heavy in his chest.

"You’re really alive," Naomi muttered, her voice rough with emotion.

Winter let out a slow breath. "Yeah. I am."

A pause.

Then chaos.

People were talking over each other, slapping his back, dragging him further into the room to sit down. There were drinks shoved into his hands, and the weight of the past year pressed against his ribs with every old story, every laugh, every recounting of how they got separated that night.

He let himself feel it. The relief. The rightness of being here.

But underneath it, something gnawed at him.

And it wasn’t until he glanced toward the door that he realized what.

Zara.

Leo.

They weren’t here.

And he felt the absence like a dull ache for the first time since stepping into the room.

"Oi, Winter," Miles called, interrupting his thoughts. "What’s the deal with the woman and kid?"

The room quieted slightly.

Winter turned to Ima who smirked with a shrug. "Dont look at me like that, was I not supposed to say? That was interesting."

Winter exhaled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He met Mike’s gaze head-on. "They’re with me."

Silence.

A slow shift in the room.

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "With you as in...?"

"With me," Winter repeated firmly.

A beat of silence. Then—

Miles let out a low whistle. "That sounded shady as hell."

Ima snickered. "Right? I was thinking the same thing. And I’m surprised you said it in front of her."

Winter frowned. "Why? What’s wrong with what I said?"

Ima just smirked, offering no explanation.

Around the room, reactions ranged. A few of them groaned, some sighed, and Marcus outright laughed.

Winter frowned, glancing between them. "What? What’s wrong with saying that?"

Naomi shook her head, exasperated. "You gotta put a label on it, Winter. From what Ima said, the kid’s too old to be yours, so what exactly is she to you?"

Winter opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Miles sighed, exasperated. "God, it’s a miracle you bagged someone as perfect as Stella."

The mood shifted instantly.

Winter’s stomach dropped. The name hit like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from his lungs.

The air, once warm and lively, turned thick and heavy with something else.

Naomi cursed under her breath, but it was too late. The name had already settled in the space between them.

Before Winter could retreat into it, Naomi reached out, squeezing his forearm. "Winter, it’s okay," she said, quiet but steady. "It’s okay that you loved Stella. And it’s okay if you find someone else after. But... are you? Or are you just holding onto the image of her in someone else?"

Winter’s head snapped up. His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Miles hesitated before answering. "Man, it’s just... a little too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?" He glanced around the room before settling his gaze back on Winter. "That you happened to find someone with similar features to Stella? And a kid close to the age of yours and hers in this madness?"

The air in Winter’s lungs felt suddenly thin. "No. That’s not—" His mind reeled, snapping between Zara and Stella, between Leo and—no. No.

He sat up straighter. "No." His voice was firm, defensive. "I know Stella. And I know Zara. They’re not the same. They don’t look the same, and they sure as hell aren’t the same people. I would never—" He swallowed, shaking his head. "I would never do that. Not to Stella, and definitely not to Zara."

What the hell were they talking about?!

Miles sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "I hope you’re right. We love you, man. We want you to be happy—as happy as you can be in this shitty world. But we also want to make sure you’re doing the right thing. For yourself. And for her."

A storm of emotions churned in Winter’s chest—anger, doubt, something dangerously close to guilt. Zara’s face when he had said that earlier flashed before his mind.

Had he made a mistake coming here?

Before he could spiral further, Marcus pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of him. "Don’t care about any of that shit. You’re here, that’s all that matters."

The topic shifted, but the words lingered at the back of Winter’s mind like a splinter under the skin.

He had to get back to Zara.

"I’ll see you all tomorrow," he said, already heading for the door.

Ima’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait—what?"

"You just got here, man," Miles added, frowning.

Winter shrugged. "Yeah. And I’ll be back. But not tonight."

Ima chuckled under his breath, shaking her head like he wasn’t surprised at all. "You’re already gone, aren’t you?"

Winter didn’t answer. He just gave them a look.

Then he was gone.

*****

Back at the Room

The halls of the base were quieter than before.

Winter’s footsteps were light as he made his way back, his mind still caught in the whirlwind of the past hour. Seeing them again had felt good. Familiar. But the moment he walked away, he hadn’t felt regret—just a deep, bone-deep pull toward something else.

Someone else.

As he walked through the streets, his thoughts were too tangled to notice the shadow watching him from across the road.

Had they been right?

Was he projecting Stella and his child onto Zara and Leo?

No. He loved Zara. Cared for her.

Didn’t he?

The feelings he had for Zara couldn’t be a mistake. Couldn’t be a duplicate.

He reached their door, swiped his ID tag, and stepped inside.

Zara looked up from where she was patting Leo’s back, her expression unreadable.

"You’re back." Her voice was stiff.

Winter stared at her, the words still echoing in his head. Now that he really looked, he could see faint similarities—hair colour, a slim build—but that was where it stopped.

Because where Stella had been soft-spoken, Zara was assured. Where Stella had been gentle, Zara was sharp. Stella had warmth like quiet embers. Zara burned like an open flame.

Two different people.

They weren’t the same. They never had been.

Zara frowned, noticing that something was up. "What’s wrong?" She asked standing up slowly.

Winter crossed the room in quick, determined strides.

Before Zara could say another word, he caught her face in his hands and kissed her—hard.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was raw, searing, filled with something dark and desperate clawing its way up from his chest.

His fingers curled against her jaw, tilting her head just enough to deepen it, to pull her under with him. The heat of her, the way she tensed for half a second before melting into him—it sent something scorching through his veins, something that burned away every lingering doubt.

This was real.

Not a ghost. Not a memory.

Zara was real. Her sharpness, her fire, the way she kissed him back like she refused to be consumed—she was real.

And Winter wanted her like he wanted his next breath.

He wasn’t wrong about this.

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