10. Henry

10

Henry

T he drive was silent after that. The town lights flickered past us, casting fleeting shadows inside the car. I could still taste Freya on my tongue, her scent lingering like a stubborn ghost. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. Every glance at her made my blood simmer, a cruel reminder of the war she waged within me.

Freya stared out the window, lost in thought or maybe just avoiding my gaze. Her presence was a torment, a beautiful, maddening torment. Part of me hated her for making me feel this way in the first place, for awakening something primal and uncontrollable inside me.

The engine's hum filled the void between us. Streetlights stretched into blurred lines as we sped down empty roads. The radio remained off, its silence amplifying the tension that crackled in the confined space.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

I glanced over at her, her eyes wide and searching.

"You know why," I replied, my tone sharper than intended.

She shook her head, looking down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

I forced myself to focus on the road ahead. My cock was hard, painfully so, but I refused to claim her. Not until she begged for it. It was a cruel game we played, one where desire clashed with stubborn pride.

"Henry," she said softly.

I didn’t respond immediately. The sound of my name on her lips sent a shiver down my spine.

"What?" I asked eventually.

"Do you hate me?" Her question hung in the air between us like an unsolvable riddle.

My jaw tightened as I struggled to find an answer that made sense. Instead, I decided to remain silent.

Her silence told me everything and nothing at once. The streets narrowed as we approached our destination, the weight of our unresolved tension pressing down on both of us.

The campus loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. I parked the car and killed the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. Freya glanced at me, her expression unreadable.

"Go to your dorm and get your shit," I said, my voice flat. "You have fifteen minutes."

She hesitated, then spoke. "There's no way your dorm will fit both of us."

I raised an eyebrow. "Who says we're staying in my dorm room?"

Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise and suspicion flashing across her face.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't act so surprised. My grandfather owned a house off-campus."

"But you, your sister, you're both in dorms," she said, her confusion evident.

"Maybe we want to experience the normal college life," I replied. "But you changed that."

"It's not just me," she retorted. "You showed up. I don't know anything about Ravenwood Society, but I know you'd have to claim someone, even if I didn't show up."

"I wouldn't have showed up at all if I didn't think you'd act like a spoiled child acting out," I said sharply. "Thirteen minutes."

She scowled, her lips pressing into a thin line before she turned on her heel and headed towards Arctic Tundra, the female dorms.

I watched her go, a sigh escaping my lips. The night air was cool against my skin, but it did little to quell the fire raging inside me. Freya had always been a storm in my life, unpredictable and relentless.

As she disappeared into the dormitory building, I leaned against the car and ran a hand through my hair. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. But then again, when had anything ever gone according to plan where Freya was concerned?

I trudged up to my room, the silence in the dormitory hallway almost oppressive. The fluorescent lights flickered slightly, casting an eerie glow on the pale walls. Reaching my door, I turned the key and stepped inside.

The room was exactly as I'd left it. Books neatly lined up on the shelf, bed perfectly made, clothes arranged by color in the closet. I liked things in order. It gave me control in a world where chaos seemed to reign.

I grabbed my duffel bag from under the bed and began packing with practiced efficiency. Shirts folded crisply, pants smoothed out, socks rolled into tight balls. Everything had its place. Each item that went into the bag was like a small piece of sanity being restored.

My movements were methodical. I placed my laptop carefully between layers of clothing to avoid damage, ensuring it was secure. Toiletries went into a separate compartment, each item checked and double-checked.

I could have called someone to help, but I needed this distraction. It kept my mind from spiraling into dark places where questions about Freya and our predicament festered like open wounds.

With the last of my belongings stowed away, I zipped up the duffel and slung it over my shoulder. A quick glance around confirmed everything was in order. I locked the door behind me and headed back down to the car.

The night air felt colder now, or maybe it was just my impatience getting the better of me.

Freya still wasn't back. Leaning against the car, I checked my watch: she had three minutes left.

The seconds ticked by slowly, each one a needle pricking at my already frayed nerves. If she wasn’t back in three minutes, I'd grab her myself and throw her over my shoulder if I had to.

I waited, eyes scanning the entrance of Arctic Tundra for any sign of her. The street remained quiet, only the distant hum of traffic breaking the silence.

Two minutes left.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to keep calm. She knew better than to push me further tonight.

One minute.

The front door of Arctic Tundra finally creaked open, but no one emerged yet.

"What the hell was that?"

I turned sharply to find Rebecca standing there, fury etched across her face. Her brown hair fell in wild waves around her shoulders, and her eyes blazed with an intensity that threatened to scorch everything in their path. She was wearing a tight black dress that hugged her curves, the kind that left little to the imagination.

"You weren't supposed to claim your fiancée," she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

"You gave me no choice," I shot back. "You think I would claim you? You're nothing to me, Rebecca. Just because we fucked a few times means nothing. She's going to be my wife."

"Her?" Rebecca sneered, gesturing toward the dorm entrance. "The same girl who fucked Dan the majority of fall semester?"

Without warning, I grabbed her arm in a bruising grip. "Do not speak about my wife that way."

"Your wife?" she demanded, struggling against my hold. "Henry, you barely spoke about her. I know you don't care about her?—"

"It's not about whether I care about her or not," I said through gritted teeth. "She's still mine ."

"You don't want her," she hissed, still trying to free herself from my grasp. "You never did."

"And?"

"Break things off," she said, desperation seeping into her voice. "You don't have to marry her."

"I do."

"Why? Because your grandfather told you to?" Rebecca asked, her tone mocking. "Henry, he's?—"

"Be careful how you finish that sentence," I warned in a low, dangerous voice. "My grandfather is the single most important person in this world to me. If you even speak ill of him…" My voice trailed off menacingly.

Rebecca's eyes widened slightly, realizing she had pushed too far. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she stopped struggling against my grip.

The silence between us stretched thin and taut, like a wire ready to snap. I could feel the heat of anger radiating off both of us, a volatile mix of frustration and unresolved tension.

Rebecca finally wrenched herself free from my grasp, rubbing her arm where my fingers had left marks.

"You know," she said, caressing her wound, "just because you claimed her doesn't mean she's protected, right?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you talking about?"

She scoffed. "Please. Even you aren't this dense. Claiming Freya would be the perfect way to get to you. You think you don't have enemies after the stunt your sister pulled back in September? Or do you forget that your uncle is still around?"

My teeth clenched involuntarily. Richard Mathers had been in charge of the living trust after my grandfather died but was removed when Minka and I found evidence of his subterfuge. It wouldn't surprise me if Richard was looking for a chance at revenge.

"What are you saying?" I asked, my voice low and steady.

"I'm saying people aren't going to play by the rules," she said. "Whether they're your grandfather's or Ravenwood's. And unless you can take off the gloves, your world is going to change."

"Are you threatening me? Are you threatening my wife?"

"I'm not," she replied, her tone softer but no less intense. "I'm warning you."

"Why?" I demanded, trying to understand her angle.

"Because eventually, you will tire of her," she said with a knowing smile. "You won't want to spend your whole life with her. And when you realize that, I'll be waiting."

Her words hit me like a cold slap in the face. The certainty in her voice made my skin crawl. For a moment, I stood there staring at her, trying to gauge the depth of her conviction.

"What's going on here?"

Rebecca's smug grin was still etched in my mind when I turned and saw Freya. She stood there, two bags slung over her shoulders and a suitcase by her side. Her pale green eyes locked onto Rebecca, narrowing into slits.

"Nothing," Rebecca said, her voice dripping with false innocence. "I was sent here by my Master to see if Henry wanted to trade."

Freya's gaze shifted to me, searching for answers.

"Never," I bit out through clenched teeth.

"We'll see," she replied with a smirk, sauntering away like a cat who had just toyed with its prey.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Freya beat me to it.

"So, is this how it's going to be?" she demanded. "I have to be loyal to you, but you'll just do whatever you want with whomever, and I'm just supposed to be okay with it?"

"Why do you care?" I shot back, frustration boiling over.

"If you want to fuck her, fine," Freya snapped. "Do it. But I get those same privileges."

"You don't," I growled, stepping closer. "You belong to me. Don't you get that?"

"I hate you," she spat, her eyes blazing with fury.

"I could give a shit," I retorted. "Let's go."

I turned on my heel and headed towards the car, not bothering to offer any help with her bags. Freya followed behind, the sound of her suitcase wheels grinding against the pavement the only noise breaking the tension between us.

The night air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved anger as we reached the car. I yanked open the trunk and tossed my duffel bag inside before getting into the driver's seat. Freya loaded her things without a word and slid into the passenger seat.

We drove off in silence, the city lights flickering past like silent witnesses to our turmoil. My mind raced with thoughts of Rebecca's warning and Freya's defiance. The storm inside me raged on, but for now, all I could do was keep driving into the uncertain night ahead.

I drove through the quiet streets, the city slowly giving way to a more secluded part of town. The manor loomed ahead, its dark silhouette stark against the moonlit sky. Ivy climbed the stone walls, and the once-vibrant gardens now lay in shadowy disarray. The wrought-iron gates creaked open as we approached, a sound that echoed through the still night.

The driveway curved gracefully, leading us to the garage nestled at the side of the manor. I pulled in and turned off the engine. Silence settled over us like a thick blanket. I hadn’t been here since before my grandfather died, and now memories rushed back, uninvited and relentless. So much had happened here...

"Are we just going to sit here all night?" Freya’s voice cut through my reverie.

I turned to her, irritation flaring. "Can you ever just keep your mouth shut?"

She glared at me, her eyes sharp as daggers.

Without another word, I threw the door open and popped the trunk. Her things were piled haphazardly inside, and I dropped them onto the ground with little care.

Freya scrambled out of the car, her anger palpable as she grabbed at her belongings.

"Get used to it," I said, slamming the trunk shut with finality.

She shot me a look that could kill, but I was already heading towards the manor’s entrance, not bothering to wait for her.

Freya struggled with her bags as she followed me inside. The sounds of her fumbling echoed through the grand hallway, each thud and scrape a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the manor.

Inside, the manor was a testament to a bygone era. High ceilings with intricate moldings loomed above us, and antique furniture lined the walls, covered in a thin layer of dust. Portraits of ancestors watched over us with cold, judging eyes. The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood and memories best left undisturbed.

Every corner of this place held echoes of my grandfather. His presence was etched into the very fabric of the manor. It hurt just looking at it, each detail a painful reminder of what once was.

"Come on," I said gruffly, breaking the silence.

I led her up the grand staircase, my footsteps heavy on the wooden steps. Freya’s struggles behind me were unmistakable; she huffed and puffed under the weight of her luggage, cursing under her breath. I didn't care. She had brought this upon herself. She needed to realize she wasn't going to get rewarded for acting out.

At the top of the stairs, I made a right, heading down a long corridor lined with more portraits and heavy drapes. Freya’s labored breathing grew louder, but I kept my pace steady.

We reached a door at the end of the hallway. I pushed it open and flicked on the light. The room was spacious yet cold, dominated by a large four-poster bed draped in dark linens.

"This is your room," I said flatly. "Go to bed. We'll talk about rules in the morning."

Freya opened her mouth to speak, but I stepped forward and grabbed her chin firmly.

"Unless you want me to show you what you can do with that mouth," I growled, my grip tightening slightly, "you won't say anything."

Her eyes blazed with emerald fury, filled with hate that sent a thrill through me. For a moment, we locked gazes, the intensity between us almost palpable.

I released her abruptly and turned away, stomping out of the room without another word.