7. Freya

7

Freya

T he curling iron sizzled as I wrapped another strand of hair around it. I watched my reflection, noting the tension in my shoulders. The mirror hung slightly crooked on my dorm room wall, but I didn’t have time to fix it now. I was already running late for the Imprinting Ceremony.

"Why did it have to be tonight?" I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. My fingers worked mechanically, curling one section after another. My mind, though, was far from focused on my hair. The looming ceremony gnawed at me, a heavy weight pressing on my chest.

Finally confronting Henry was supposed to be freeing. Instead, it felt like jumping from a cliff without knowing if there was water or rocks below.

I paused for a moment, staring at my reflection. "Am I making the right choice?"

The girl in the mirror didn’t answer, her eyes reflecting the same uncertainty swirling inside me.

I yanked the curling iron away too fast and felt a sharp sting on my finger.

"Ow!"

The iron clattered to the floor, narrowly missing my foot. I cradled my burnt finger, blinking back the tears that sprang to my eyes.

I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath, and tried to calm the storm inside me. I needed something. I needed to be sure. But Henry wasn’t lying. Deciding to attend the Imprinting Ceremony wasn’t the best decision, and it could go horribly wrong. But what other choice did I have?

My thoughts drifted back to Dan, his smile, the way he used to hold my hand like it was something precious. My heart ached with the memory of him, the love that had once felt so unbreakable now shattered into pieces too small to gather. I

couldn’t sit around feeling sorry for myself anymore.

I opened my eyes and stared at the girl in the mirror again. Her eyes were red-rimmed from sleepless nights, her hair half-curled and messy. But behind the exhaustion, there was a spark—a determination not yet extinguished.

If this was the only way to claw back some semblance of freedom, even if it was fleeting, I would take it. Maybe it wouldn’t fix everything; maybe it wouldn’t fix anything at all. But doing nothing was no longer an option.

I picked up the curling iron again, testing its heat with a cautious touch before continuing where I left off. The burn still throbbed, a reminder of how easy it was to get hurt when you weren’t careful. But this time, I didn’t flinch.

The room felt suffocating with unspoken fears and half-formed plans, but there was also a hint of something else—hope? Desperation? It didn’t matter. I needed to see this through.

With one final glance in the mirror, I turned off the curling iron and set it down carefully on my desk. The ceremony awaited, along with whatever came next.

Ready or not, it was time to face whatever lay ahead.

The Uber's headlights cut through the dense fog, casting eerie shadows on the trees lining Thirteenth Ave. My fingers drummed nervously against my knee as I clutched the black card, its address now committed to memory. When the car slowed to a stop, I could barely make out the silhouette of the old barn through the mist.

"Here we are," the driver announced, his voice indifferent, as if he dropped off passengers at abandoned barns every night.

I swallowed hard and nodded, pushing open the door. The cold night air bit at my skin as I stepped out onto the gravel driveway.

The barn loomed ahead, its wooden frame weathered and sagging under years of neglect. Once a popular party spot for students, it now stood silent and empty, an ominous relic of wilder nights.

The driver sped off without another word, leaving me alone in the darkness. I hesitated for a moment, listening to the sound of my own breathing and the distant hoot of an owl. The forest around me was thick and oppressive, branches intertwining like skeletal fingers. Each step I took toward the barn felt heavier than the last.

The moonlight barely pierced through the canopy above, casting long shadows that seemed to dance and flicker at the edges of my vision. The barn's large doors hung slightly ajar, creaking softly as a gust of wind pushed them apart just enough for me to slip inside.

I paused at the threshold, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness within. The interior was even more desolate than I'd imagined. Dust particles floated in beams of moonlight streaming through cracks in the roof. Rusted farm equipment lay abandoned in one corner, covered in cobwebs that glistened like silver threads.

My footsteps echoed hollowly on the wooden floorboards as I ventured deeper inside. The air was musty and stale, carrying faint whispers of long-forgotten memories and laughter. Every creak and groan of the old barn seemed amplified in the stillness.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, using its weak flashlight to illuminate my path. Shadows danced erratically across broken beams and piles of debris. Despite knowing it should be empty, I couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were watching me from every dark corner.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I moved further inside. Each step echoed like a heartbeat in this forgotten place.

I walked towards the door, heart pounding in my chest. The large wooden door loomed ahead, intimidating and resolute. I reached out, grasping the cold metal handle, and tried to turn it. It didn’t budge.

Before I could try again, a small sliding door within the larger one snapped open, revealing nothing but darkness beyond.

“Card,” a muffled voice demanded from the other side.

I fumbled in my pocket for the black card and held it up. A gloved hand reached out from the darkness, snatching it from my grasp.

“And are you here of your own volition?” the voice asked, its tone flat and emotionless.

“I—I am,” I stammered, my voice trembling. Clearing my throat, I tried to steady myself. “I am.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, without warning, strong arms grabbed me from behind. A blindfold was slipped over my eyes before I could react.

“Shhhhh.” Lips were close to my ear, their breath warm against my skin. “You’re okay. You’re here now. Come on.”

The stranger’s grip tightened slightly as he began to lead me forward. My feet shuffled on the uneven ground as I followed blindly, my senses heightened in the darkness. The scent of old wood and dust filled my nostrils as we moved deeper into the barn.

Each step felt like an eternity as we navigated through the space. The air grew colder with every stride, and the sounds of distant whispers echoed around us. I had no idea where I was being taken or what awaited me at the end of this journey.

There was no turning back now.

The moment we stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. I could tell because someone whispered, "Watch your step." Despite the warning, my foot caught on an uneven plank, sending me stumbling forward.

A strong arm wrapped around my waist, steadying me. The man chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through his chest and into my back. "It's like you're trying to win my favor," he murmured in a low voice. "I must say, it's working."

I swallowed hard, the reality of the situation settling like a stone in my stomach. This voice wasn't Henry's. Henry had warned me about these people, about the cruelty they were capable of. Was this man one of them? Would belonging to him be dangerous?

I didn't know.

He guided me further into the barn, his grip firm but not painful. "No one is allowed to see where these meetings take place," he explained. "Once we're in the waiting room, I'll remove the blindfold. Although..." He paused, and I could almost feel his smirk. "Perhaps I'll save it for later. After the ceremony, hmm? You must be claimed first. What an intriguing way to do it."

"Claimed?" The word tasted foreign to my tongue.

"You'll be wearing your master's initials on you somewhere," he said casually.

"Like a tattoo?" My voice sounded small and unsure.

"Like whatever he wants," he replied with a tone that suggested endless possibilities.

The implications hung heavy in the air as we continued walking. Each step echoed in the cavernous space of the barn, and I couldn't help but feel like I was walking deeper into a trap from which there might be no escape.

"I will admit," he continued, his voice oozing with amusement, "the last person I expected to see here was Henry Mathers's fiancée."

My throat tightened as I swallowed hard. I hadn't realized I'd be recognized so quickly.

"I wonder if he'll claim you," he mused, his tone thoughtful yet taunting. "Did he put you up to this? Or is this your way of rebelling in some way? Either way, I'm intrigued."

His hand slid from my back to cup my ass. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, jerking away from him.

He laughed, a sound that sent chills down my spine. "Once I claim you, you won't be allowed to tell me no," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You know this, right? And not even Henry can intervene, or it would risk his membership here. And we all know Henry is the best at following the rules."

I clenched my teeth together, the reality of my situation crashing down on me like a wave. This was a bad idea. Maybe dealing with Henry would be better. Sure, I didn't love him and couldn't trust his faithfulness, but would he force me into something like this? My gut said no, but how could I really know?

The blindfold felt suffocating now, every fiber of it a reminder of my vulnerability. Each breath I took seemed louder in the oppressive silence that followed his words. I had walked into a nightmare of my own making.

My thoughts spiraled as I stood there, feeling his gaze on me even though I couldn't see him. What had I been thinking? That this would be an easy escape? The weight of my naivety pressed down on me like a physical burden.

The man moved closer again, and I could feel the heat radiating off him as he leaned in. His breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "Are you scared yet?"

Fear mingled with anger inside me. The helplessness of the situation gnawed at my resolve. This wasn't what I wanted; this wasn't the solution I'd hoped for.

I realized then that sometimes escaping one prison only leads to another.

I sucked in a breath, steadying myself. I refused to cower, even though every fiber of my being screamed to run.

"Here we are," he announced, removing the blindfold with a swift motion.

Blinking, I took in my surroundings. The waiting room was sleek and modern, an odd contrast to the dilapidated barn exterior. Soft, ambient lighting cast a sterile glow over the white walls and polished concrete floors. Minimalistic furniture—a few low-slung couches and chairs—dotted the space.

Seven other girls lounged around the room, dressed in revealing dresses that left little to the imagination. Their faces were painted with varying degrees of anxiety and resignation. Among them, I spotted Rebecca. Her eyes met mine for a fleeting moment before she looked away, pretending not to notice me.

My heart sank at her indifference. I was here because of her. I wasn't sure what I expected. But not… indifference.

Turning to face the man who had led me here, I found he had already disappeared. A cold emptiness settled in my chest as I realized how alone I truly was.

I scanned the room again, my gaze landing on a table laden with food and a punch bowl. Despite my hunger gnawing at me, I couldn't bring myself to touch anything. The idea of eating or drinking something here seemed reckless—what if it was laced with something?

I looked at the door, its sturdy frame both a barrier and a possible escape route. My mind raced with questions: Could I leave? Did I even want to anymore? My thoughts spiraled into uncertainty.

The room buzzed with muted conversations and nervous glances. Some of the girls exchanged hushed words while others sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

I stood there, feeling like an intruder in this strange purgatory. The realization that I had willingly walked into this situation gnawed at me like a relentless predator.

I glanced back at Rebecca once more, hoping for some sign of recognition or solidarity. But she remained focused on her nails, her expression unreadable.

Feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty and fear, I wrapped my arms around myself as if that small gesture could provide some semblance of comfort.

My eyes drifted back to the door again, wondering if freedom was just beyond it—or if it was already too late for that kind of hope.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. The air felt thick, oppressive. I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening just a few feet away.

"You really think this will help?" one girl asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She had dark hair and a haunted look in her eyes.

"I have to believe it," another girl replied. Her tone was steadier, but I could hear the desperation beneath it. "If he thinks someone else owns me, maybe he'll leave me alone. We've been together since high school, and I've tried to leave, but… He told me he'll kill himself and stuff like that. I don't want him to, but I feel trapped. I don't know what else to do anymore."

The first girl nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the floor. "I just want to belong to someone," she admitted quietly. "I've never even had a kiss before. At least here, someone will want me. And maybe they'll fall in love with me, you know?"

My teeth clenched as their words sank in. What was I doing here? This wasn't an escape; it was another trap. I had been so stupid, so immature, thinking this would solve anything.

And these girls…

Their problems were worse than mine were.

I should just talk to Henry like an adult. Maybe he would understand.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. Whatever problems Henry and I had, this wasn’t the way to fix them.

I turned toward the door, my resolve hardening with each step. But before I could make my move, a voice cut through the room.

"It's time."

The words hung in the air like a death knell. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked around, searching for an exit, for any way out of this nightmare.

But it was too late.