Page 22 of Checks & Bonds

And if Freya didn't show up…?

I let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through my wet hair. The water pounded against my back, each drop a reminder of the pressure building within me. I'd worry about that later; right now, I needed to focus on the immediate future—on doing what needed to be done.

I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the rack. As I dried off, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control. My life was no longer just about hockey and games; it was about navigating a labyrinth of expectations and traditions that felt increasingly suffocating.

Dressed and somewhat refreshed, I made my way back through the quiet halls of the arena. Each step echoed with a mix of determination and dread.

The Imprinting Ceremony awaited, whether I was ready or not.

7

Freya

The 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'sheadlights 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.

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