Page 35 of Checks & Bonds

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 thoughtsof 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."

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