5. Freya

5

Freya

I wrapped my hands around the steaming cup of hot chocolate, letting its warmth seep into my fingers. Despite the season, the air held a stubborn chill, as if winter hadn't quite loosened its grip on Autumn Brooke. I stood at the edge of the soccer field, watching practice unfold before me.

Dan moved across the field with a grace that seemed effortless, his brown hair tousled by the wind. Every step he took felt deliberate, powerful. His eyes, a pale green, focused intently on the ball. He wore determination like a second skin, and it made my heart ache to see him like this.

We had shared so much once. His laugh echoed in my memories, a sound that could lift my spirits no matter how heavy my heart felt. Now, it seemed so distant, almost like it belonged to another lifetime.

I took a sip of the hot chocolate, savoring its sweetness even as bitterness twisted inside me. Dan's voice carried across the field as he called out to his teammates, guiding them with an authority that came naturally to him. His leadership had always been one of the things I admired most about him.

"Freya!"

Ivy's voice broke through my reverie. She approached with a casual stride, her own cup of coffee in hand. "Watching practice again?"

"Yeah," I replied, not taking my eyes off Dan. "Old habits die hard."

Ivy followed my gaze and nodded knowingly. "He's doing well this season."

"Always does," I muttered.

The truth was harder to face than I cared to admit. Seeing Dan out there reminded me of what we had and what we lost. The times we spent together flashed before my eyes—late-night talks under starlit skies, stolen kisses in hidden corners of Crestwood.

Dan's laughter rang out again as he joked with his teammates during a break. That sound used to be mine; now it felt foreign and far away.

Ivy nudged me gently. "You okay?"

"I will be," I said, more to convince myself than her.

Dan caught sight of us then and looked away, turning back to his practice. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a pang through my chest all the same.

As I watched him return to the game, all I could do was hold onto the warmth of my hot chocolate and try to remember how to breathe again without him by my side.

"Liam and I are going to see the latest slasher flick," she said, her voice light with excitement. "Want to come?"

"And be a third wheel while you make out during the movie?" I shook my head, a smirk tugging at my lips. "I don't think so. I need to talk to Dan, anyway."

Ivy's face softened, concern darkening her eyes.

"I'll be okay," I assured her. "I promise."

"I know." She forced a smile, squeezing my arm gently. "Call me," she said before turning to leave.

I watched her walk away, her steps quickening as she approached Liam waiting by the bleachers. They exchanged a quick kiss before heading towards the parking lot. The sight made my chest tighten a little, but I brushed it off and turned back to the field.

Practice was winding down. Dan jogged towards the sidelines, his hair damp with sweat and his breath coming in heavy bursts. He glanced at me briefly, a flicker of something crossing his face before he looked away again.

The team dispersed, players grabbing their bags and heading for the locker rooms. Dan lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance. I took a deep breath and approached him.

"Dan," I called out softly.

He turned slowly, his expression guarded. "Freya."

"We need to talk," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "I don't think we do."

We stood there for a moment in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us like a heavy fog. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves around us and sending a chill down my spine.

"Can we go somewhere?" I suggested.

"I don't think it's a good idea," he said, his voice tight with frustration.

I sucked in a breath, feeling the sting of his words. "Why didn't you tell me? About what Henry did."

Dan scoffed, shaking his head. "You mean when your fiancé came to my dorm and beat the shit out of me? When he threatened to have the school pull me from the team? I don't know, Freya, but I'm sure you can figure it out."

My teeth clenched as anger bubbled inside me. "I could have talked to him."

Dan's laugh was harsh, almost cruel. "You? Freya, are you deaf or blind or both? Henry Mathers told me to stay away from you. Practically broke my nose doing so. I listened."

"So that's it?" I asked, my voice shaking. "It was just so easy to walk away from me?"

"You were never mine," he pointed out, his eyes cold. "Not really."

"That's not true," I protested.

"What then?" he challenged. "You're saying you don't have to marry him?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"That's what I thought," he said bitterly. "I never should have gotten involved with you. I should have known better. All you rich girls are the same. You use people to get what you want before you run off to the rich guys."

"Dan, I?—"

"What?" His voice cut through me like a knife. "You what, Freya? Did you ever think for one second you were going to be more than… than this?"

My eyes stung, tears threatening to spill over. I blinked furiously, trying to keep my composure. "Dan, please?—"

"Don't fucking speak to my fiancée that way."

The cold, menacing voice came from behind us. My body went rigid as I turned around. There stood Henry, his presence imposing and unwavering.

He looked every bit the part of the perfect fiancé. His chiseled jawline and piercing blue eyes could have belonged to a Greek god. Dark hair swept back with an effortless charm that belied his ruthless nature. He wore the tailored uniform that fit him like a second skin, accentuating his broad shoulders and powerful frame.

"Henry," I whispered, my voice trembling.

His gaze never left Dan as he stepped forward. "Is there a problem here?"

Dan's face hardened. "Nothing I can't handle."

Henry's lips curled into a cold smile. "I think you've handled enough for today."

Dan looked at me one last time before he turned and walked away.

Henry's hand found my arm, his grip firm but not painful. "We need to talk."

I said nothing. If I opened my mouth, I knew I would tell him how much I hated him.

He pulled me closer, his touch suffocating. "Let's go," he said softly.

As we walked away from the field, I couldn't help but glance back at Dan's retreating figure. My heart ached with every step we took further from him, but I knew there was no turning back now.

Henry tightened his grip on my arm as if sensing my hesitation. "Forget about him," he murmured in my ear.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. The warmth of Henry's hand was nothing compared to the cold emptiness that had settled in my chest.

I followed him silently, my mind replaying Dan's words over and over again.

The second we got somewhere more secluded, I yanked out of Henry's grasp and put my hands on his chest, pushing him. He didn't budge.

"How dare you," I snarled, my voice shaking with fury.

Henry arched a brow, his expression maddeningly calm.

"You can't just do that," I snapped. "You can't just go to—to him and hurt him."

"Why?" Henry asked, his voice dripping with contempt. "He's touched you, hasn't he?" He narrowed his eyes. "I should kill him for touching my property."

Angry tears blurred my vision. "Your property?" I spat. "You never cared before!"

"You know I did," Henry said, his tone cold and dismissive. "If you want to make yourself look like a fool, by all means."

"Oh, but you can fuck whoever you want, and I'm just supposed to be fine with it?" I demanded. "What, do I get to go over to Rebecca and threaten her? Maybe break her nose?"

His lip quirked in amusement. "I would pay to see that."

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "Of course," I said with a sneer. "You would."

"Not like that," he replied, his voice softening just a fraction. "I could give a shit about her. But seeing you possessive over me? That would be an intriguing sight."

My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I struggled to contain my rage. The man before me was infuriatingly composed, as if none of this affected him in the slightest.

"I am not your possession," I hissed through gritted teeth.

Henry's gaze bore into mine, unyielding and icy. "Aren't you?"

The question hung in the air between us like a toxic cloud, suffocating me with its implications. My chest tightened as the weight of our twisted relationship pressed down on me.

I wanted to scream, to lash out and make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused me. But all I could do was stand there, trembling with anger and frustration.

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "You belong to me, Freya," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

Every fiber of my being recoiled at his words, but some twisted part of me couldn't deny the truth in them. The reality of our engagement was a chain around my neck, binding me to this man who saw me as nothing more than an object to be owned and controlled.

But I refused to let him break me completely. Not now. Not ever.

"You'll never own me," I whispered back defiantly, meeting his gaze head-on.

Henry narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint in them. "We're getting married in a few months," he said. "You need to come to your senses."

"And what does that mean?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You will not attend the Imprinting ceremony," he declared, leaving no room for argument.

I glared at him, feeling the heat of anger rise in my cheeks. "Did Liam tell you?" I scoffed. "Typical."

Henry remained silent, his jaw set in a firm line.

"Like I said," I continued, my voice steady and defiant. "You don't own me."

"I do," he insisted, his tone cold and unwavering.

"Not yet," I ground out. "And if Jensen Ackerman claims me?—"

"If Jensen Ackerman touches one hair on your skin, I will break every bone in his body, and I'll make you watch," he growled, taking a step towards me. "Do not test me, Freya."

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Where is this coming from? You've said three words to me all year. And now, because you hear I'm attending the Imprinting ceremony, you're what, bossing me around?"

"As your husband, I have that right," he said with an air of finality.

"You're not my husband yet," I snapped back.

The tension between us was palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. Henry's eyes bored into mine, filled with a mixture of anger and something else—something I couldn't quite place. My pulse quickened as we stood there in silence, each of us refusing to back down.

The truth was undeniable: our engagement was nothing more than a carefully constructed fa?ade. Henry's sudden possessiveness only highlighted the cracks in our relationship. Hell, this wasn't even a relationship.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The wind rustled through the trees around us, carrying with it the faint scent of spring leaves. The world seemed to hold its breath as we faced off, neither willing to concede an inch.

In that moment, I realized just how much was at stake—not just for me but for everyone caught in the web of our lives. And as much as I wanted to believe otherwise, there was no escaping the reality of our situation.

"I need to hear you tell me you won't go," Henry demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, your word means something? Is that it?" I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Henry said nothing, just stared at me with those cold, unyielding eyes. The silence between us grew heavier, like a storm cloud about to burst.

"Why do you have to be so stoic?" I demanded, shoving him again. My hands met the hard wall of his chest, but he didn't budge an inch. "Why can't you react?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought you didn't want me to," he said in a low voice. "When I do react, it's too much. Isn't that what you said after my conversation with good old Dan, hmm?"

"That wasn't a conversation," I retorted. "That was a beating."

He gave me a look that said it was all the same to him.

"You're an asshole."

"I've never denied that," Henry replied with a maddening calmness. "But you will not attend?—"

"Are you?" I interrupted, my voice rising.

"What?" he asked, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"Are you attending?" I pressed on. "Are you going to claim Rebecca? That's what she's insinuating is going to happen. Is that what this is? You want to have your cake and eat it too?"

Henry's jaw tightened, his gaze never leaving mine. For the first time in our conversation, he seemed genuinely taken aback.

"That's not?—"

"Save it," I cut him off, my anger boiling over. "I'm not your pawn to be moved around as you please. If you're going to stand there and tell me what I can or can't do while you're planning on being with her?—"

"I'm not planning anything with Rebecca," he snapped back, his voice finally breaking its icy veneer.

"Then why the hell is she saying otherwise?" I demanded.

"Because she wants to get under your skin," he replied, taking a step closer. His presence loomed over me, suffocating yet intoxicating all at once. "And it's working."

I took a step back, needing space to breathe. My mind whirled with everything that had happened and everything still left unsaid.

"You don't get to control me," I whispered fiercely. "Not now, not ever."

Henry's gaze softened just a fraction as if he were considering my words for the first time. But the moment passed quickly and his expression hardened once more.

"We'll see about that," he said quietly.

The wind picked up around us, carrying away the last of our heated words as we stood there in silence. The battle lines had been drawn and neither of us was willing to back down.

"Don't go, Freya," he said. "For your own sake, you better not show up."

"And if I do?" I asked.

He said nothing.

I clenched my jaw and turned. He was going to see just how much I meant what I said.

Fuck him.

Fuck all of this.

This was my life, and I needed to remind Henry fucking Mathers of that.