Page 57 of Checks & Bonds

Henry's response was another savage punch. His face was a mask of rage, his normally composed demeanor shattered. He pounded Jensen with an intensity that bordered on terrifying.

Jensen tried to fight back, throwing wild punches that missed their mark. Henry's superior strength and precision made it clear who held the upper hand. Every time Jensen attempted to rise or defend himself, Henry knocked him back down with another devastating blow.

"Henry, please," I cried out, my voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Stop! You're going to kill him!"

But Henry didn't seem to hear me. He continued to rain punches down on Jensen, who had long since stopped trying to fight back. Jensen's body went limp under Henry's assault, blood pooling on the floor beneath him.

"Henry!" I screamed again, louder this time. "Stop! He's done!"

Finally, Henry paused, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked down at Jensen's battered form, then slowly turned toface me. His eyes were wild, filled with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"He tried to hurt you," Henry said through gritted teeth, his voice shaking with barely contained rage.

"I know," I replied softly, tears streaming down my face. "But you can't kill him."

"Why not?" he demanded to know. "You're… you're mine."

Henry took a step back from Jensen, his fists still clenched tightly at his sides. The room was silent except for the sound of our ragged breathing and Jensen's faint whimpers of pain.

Henry finally unclenched his fists and let out a shaky breath. The fury in his eyes began to subside but didn’t disappear entirely.

"Why did you let him in?" Henry demanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the tense silence.

"I thought he was here because of you," I stammered, my heart still pounding. "I thought something happened to you. He... he said that you and Rebecca..."

"Amber did try something," he interrupted, his eyes boring into mine. "But I said no. You're my wife, Freya. I will not embarrass you like that."

"You didn't seem to care before," I shot back, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

"You weren't my wife," he replied evenly.

"I'm still not?—"

"I've claimed you," he cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And we're going to get married. To me, there's no difference."

I wanted to be mad, to rail against him for making decisions about my life without consulting me. But looking at Jensen's bloodied face and Henry's bruised knuckles, anger slipped away. He had saved me.

"You shouldn't have done that," I murmured, glancing at his hands. "Don't you need your knuckles to play?"

Henry glanced down at his battered knuckles as if noticing them for the first time. "You're my wife," he said again, like that explained everything.

"I don't understand you," I admitted, shaking my head.

Henry said nothing, his silence speaking volumes.

"Let's clean you up," I suggested softly. "Get ice... ice on those hands."

He nodded once, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly as he stepped back from Jensen's crumpled form.

We moved in unspoken agreement toward the door. My legs felt like jelly beneath me, each step an effort as we left the room and its horrific scene behind us. The need to get away from Jensen's still form propelled me forward.

Henry didn't say a word as we walked through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. The silence between us was heavy but not uncomfortable—an unspoken truce had formed in the wake of chaos.

18

Henry

The walk back to the kitchen was silent, save for the occasional rustle of my phone in my pocket. I needed Jensen out of my house. I had security for a reason, and they knew how to handle things discreetly.

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