28. Henry

28

Henry

M inka left shortly after, leaving me alone in the house. The echo of the front door closing reverberated through the empty halls, amplifying the silence. I stood there; the void swallowing me whole. My chest tightened, my fists clenched.

Without thinking, I headed to the basement gym. The air grew colder as I descended, the weight of my emotions pressing down on me like a lead blanket. Flicking on the lights, I was greeted by the familiar sight of weights and machines. I grabbed a set of dumbbells and started lifting, the repetitive motion doing little to calm the storm inside.

I spent time thinking in my grandfather's study. Now, I needed to move.

Each curl was a release, a small attempt to channel my rage. My mind, however, remained a battlefield. Freya's face kept flashing before my eyes, her laughter, her defiance, her hurt.

"Why does she always run?" I muttered to myself, my voice bouncing off the concrete walls. The weights hit the floor with a dull thud as I switched to the bench press.

Lying back, I stared at the ceiling, pushing the barbell up with a force that matched my frustration. The strain on my muscles felt good, a temporary distraction from the chaos inside my head. I still didn't know what I wanted. The clarity I sought remained elusive, slipping through my fingers like sand.

I missed her. It was a truth that hurt more than any physical pain. I missed the way she challenged me, the fire in her eyes when we argued, the rare moments of softness she allowed me to see. But every attempt to hold on to those moments seemed futile. They crumbled under the weight of our issues.

The barbell clanged as I racked it, my breath coming in heavy pants. Sweat dripped down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I sat up, rubbing my face with my hands, trying to wipe away the frustration.

The gym felt like a cage. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating me. I needed to move, to do something, anything to escape the torment of my thoughts.

But no matter how hard I worked out, no matter how many weights I lifted or how fast I ran on the treadmill, one fact remained: I missed Freya. And that truth, simple yet complex, was something I couldn’t shake.

A buzz from my phone interrupted my thoughts. The notification displayed someone at the door. I checked the camera feed, expecting a delivery or maybe one of the guys, but instead, it was Richard. What the hell was he doing here?

I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off my face, the damp cloth cooling my heated skin. With a sigh, I headed upstairs; the stairs creaking beneath my weight. Each step felt heavier than the last.

Reaching the main floor, I pulled open the door, facing my uncle with a steely glare.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice low and edged with irritation.

Richard handed me a thick envelope. "It's done," he said, his tone devoid of emotion. "Your marriage is off. The one thing that could have saved you."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process his words. "What?"

"Your fiancée," he continued, " ex-fiancée , I should say, signed. You know, she really did care about you. Wanted to make sure my father's legacy didn't fall apart because of your violent tendencies and her easy inclination."

My hand shot out, grabbing his collar, yanking him closer. His eyes widened, a flicker of fear breaking through his usual smug demeanor.

"Hey," he said, raising his hands defensively. "You really want to pummel me before the board meeting?"

"I don't care about the meeting."

"Well, you should," he retorted, his voice steady despite the situation. "Your girl wouldn't even take the money I offered. She just wanted to make sure you still got to play hockey."

My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

"But you'll be stripped of your inheritance, naturally," Richard continued, his tone mocking. "You've gone against everything your grandfather wanted for you, and?—"

"Get out," I cut him off, my voice shaking with barely contained rage.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Get out of my house," I repeated, tightening my grip on his collar. "Before I send you to the hospital too."

For a second, fear flashed in his eyes before he smoothed it down with a glare. "I can't wait to see you get what you have coming to you," he muttered, wrenching himself free from my grasp.

He turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the doorway, the contract still clutched in my hand.

I watched Richard's car pull away, my anger boiling over. Freya had broken off the engagement. The one lifeline that could’ve tethered me to sanity was gone, severed with a signature on a piece of paper.

I had to see her.

Without wasting another second, I turned and stormed back into the house. Each step echoed in the hollow silence, a reminder of the emptiness that now seemed to fill every corner of my life. I grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter, my knuckles white with tension.

I locked up, my movements mechanical, my mind focused on one thing: getting to Freya. The house felt like a cage, and I needed to escape. I needed to see her, to understand why she’d done this. Maybe I already knew. Maybe it was because of me, my actions, my inability to communicate. But I needed to hear it from her.

The garage door creaked open, and I slid into the driver's seat of my car. The engine roared to life, a sound that usually calmed me, but today it only fueled my urgency. I didn’t care about the board meeting. I didn’t care about the game. All that mattered was Freya.

The tires screeched as I backed out of the driveway and sped down the road. The city blurred past, a mosaic of grays and blues. My mind raced as fast as the car, replaying every argument, every moment of tension, every time I’d pushed her away.

Traffic lights turned red, but I barely noticed. I was on autopilot, my only destination the campus where I knew Freya would be. I had to make this right, and I had to do it now.

Minutes felt like hours as I navigated through the streets, finally pulling into the university parking lot. I parked haphazardly, not caring if I was in a designated spot or not. The engine’s hum died down, replaced by the pounding of my heart in my ears.

I stepped out, the cool air hitting me like a splash of cold water. The campus was bustling, students milling about, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me. I scanned the area, searching for any sign of her.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. Whoever it was, they could wait. Right now, there was only one person I needed to talk to.

I marched across the campus, the urgency propelling me forward. My eyes locked onto Freya’s dorm building, and I broke into a run, my breath coming in sharp bursts. The closer I got, the more my resolve solidified.

Reaching her door, I didn’t bother knocking politely. I pounded on it; the sound echoing through the hallway.

"Freya!" I yelled, my fist connecting with the wood again.

Moments later, the door swung open, and there she stood, her eyes widening at the sight of me. Before she could react, I stepped through, grabbing her shoulders, kicking the door shut behind me.

"Henry, what are you?—"

I pushed her against the wall, my grip firm but not painful. "Why?" I demanded, my voice rough with emotion.

She blinked, confusion and hurt mingling in her gaze. "So your grandfather's legacy didn't crumble," she said, her voice steady. "I know how much it means to you."

"Not like you do," I retorted, my anger boiling over.

Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "What? Henry, I did it?—"

"Marry me," I cut her off, my words hanging heavy in the air. "Marry me right now."

She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. "You're crazy," she said, her voice barely a whisper. But I didn’t budge. She searched my face, looking for any hint of a joke. "You're serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about this," I replied, my voice steady, my heart pounding.

"Henry—"

"Marry me, Freya," I said, my grip on her shoulders tightening slightly. "Not because you're an obligation, but because you're everything. "

She shook her head, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "The game… the meeting," she said, her voice breaking. "I don't want you to lose them."

"I don't want to lose you, " I said, my voice softening. "Please."

Without waiting for her response, I closed the distance between us, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. It was desperate, a clash of emotions we’d both been holding back for too long. Her hands found their way to my chest, clutching at my shirt as if anchoring herself to reality. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just us, caught in this moment of raw, unfiltered need.

Our breaths mingled, the kiss deepening, every ounce of my desperation and love poured into that single, electrifying connection.

"God, I'm so angry at you," I murmured against her lips, my breath mingling with hers. "You can't leave me. Don't ever fucking leave me."

Freya shook her head, her eyes wide. I kissed her neck, feeling the pulse beneath her skin, my need for her growing more desperate with each second. Her hands gripped my shoulders, nails digging in as if trying to hold on to something solid.

My fingers found the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one swift motion. The fabric gave way easily, and I tossed it aside, not caring where it landed. My hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of exposed skin, claiming it as mine.

"You're mine, Freya," I growled, my voice rough with possession. "Every part of you belongs to me."

She shivered under my touch, her breath hitching as my hands moved to the clasp of her bra. I unclasped it, letting it fall to the floor, revealing her to me completely. My mouth descended to her breasts, my tongue flicking over a nipple, eliciting a gasp from her lips.

"Say it," I demanded, my voice a low, commanding whisper. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," she whispered back, her voice trembling.

I yanked at her jeans; the button popping open; the zipper sliding down with a harsh sound. I shoved them down her legs, leaving her standing in just her underwear. My hands traced the curve of her hips, fingers digging into her flesh possessively.

"No one else can have you," I said, my voice dripping with intensity. "You're mine, and I'll never let you go."

She moaned softly, her body arching into mine as I continued to strip her, my hands working with a feverish urgency. The last barrier between us fell away, and I pressed her against the wall, my body pinning hers in place.

"Do you understand?" I asked, my voice a harsh whisper against her ear. "You're mine, Freya. No one else can touch you. No one else can have you."

"Yes," she breathed, her hands clutching at my back, her nails digging in. "I'm yours, Henry. Only yours."

I kissed her again, harder this time, pouring all my anger, my desperation, and my need into that single, searing connection. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just us, lost in this moment of raw, unfiltered need.

I didn't hesitate. I pulled out my cock, feeling the hard length in my hand. Without any further delay, I thrust inside her, the heat and tightness of her body enveloping me. Her legs instinctively wrapped around me, pulling me deeper into her slick heat. The sensation was almost overwhelming, but I held on, keeping her pinned against the wall.

Her back arched, a gasp escaping her lips as I moved inside her. I could feel the tension between us, the anger, the frustration, all of it pouring into each thrust. I pressed her harder against the wall, my hands roaming her body, gripping her thighs, pulling her closer.

My mouth found her neck, and I sucked at her skin, leaving marks that claimed her as mine. Each time I bit down, a small moan escaped her lips, and it drove me wild. I wanted to mark her, to make sure she knew she belonged to me.

"Mine," I growled against her neck, my voice rough with emotion. "Mine."

Her hands clutched at my shoulders, nails digging into my skin. I moved faster, harder; the anger fueling each movement. I couldn't hold back, and I didn't want to. This was us, raw and unfiltered.

She moaned louder, her body tensing against mine. I could feel her getting close, the way her muscles tightened around me, the way her breath came in short, desperate gasps.

I thrust deeper, harder, my own control slipping as I lost myself in the sensation. Her climax hit, her body shuddering against mine, a cry of pleasure escaping her lips. Her body tightened around my cock, her muscles clenching and releasing, sent shivers through my entire being. Her moans, her gasps, every sound she made was like a drug I couldn't get enough of.

"Again," I demanded, my voice rough with need. "I want to feel you come on your husband's cock again."

Without pulling out, I moved us from the wall, guiding her down to the floor. The shift in position kept me buried deep inside her, our bodies still connected. I'd never felt so in control, so dominant.

"Harder," she breathed out, her eyes locked onto mine, filled with desire and trust.

I began to move harder, each thrust more powerful than the last. "I can take it," she said, her voice a sultry whisper. "You won't hurt me. Fuck me, Henry. Lose control. I want it. Please."

Her words ignited something primal in me. I lost myself in the rhythm, in the way our bodies moved together. Each thrust brought me closer to the edge, the friction and heat driving me wild. The sensation of her tight around me, the way she responded to every movement, was almost too much to bear.

"My wife," I growled, my voice a low rumble. "Tell me you'll marry me. Say it."

"Yes, oh, please, Henry, right there, don't stop," she panted, her breath coming in short bursts.

"Freya!" I barked, so close to my own climax, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.

"You're my husband," she said breathlessly, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Mine, mine — Henry, I'm coming. Oh, baby , I'm coming."

Her climax hit again, and this time, I couldn't hold back. The sensation of her tightening around me, the way her body shuddered with pleasure, pushed me over the edge. My own release crashed through me, a powerful wave of ecstasy that left me trembling.

We clung to each other, our breaths mingling, our bodies still connected in the aftermath of our shared release. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just us, caught in this moment of raw, unfiltered connection.

I turned to look at her, pushing the strands of hair from her face. "Marry me," I murmured. "Right now."

"Are you —"

"Don't question me," I told her. "When it comes to you, I'm sure."

Her lips curved up. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'll marry you right now."