Page 78 of Checks & Bonds

My heart pounded in my chest as I leaned in closer to the screen. There they were—pictures. Freya, naked. Freya, with Dan. The images seared into my brain like brands, each one more damning than the last. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, the world tilted on its axis.

Fury replaced my blood, pumping through my veins with every heartbeat. My hands clenched into fists so tight that my knuckles turned white. I felt the room close in around me; the walls pressing in like a vice.

"What... what the hell is this?" My voice came out low and strained, barely more than a growl.

Morgan's face was unreadable as he studied me. "Fuck if I know."

I tore my gaze away from the monitor, struggling to keep my composure. The betrayal cut deep—deeper than I could have ever imagined. I wanted to scream, to break something, anything to release the rage that threatened to consume me.

"I trusted her," I said through gritted teeth.

Morgan shook his head slowly. "Whoa," he said. "You don't fucking know it was her. There's another asshole in the picture."

I couldn't focus on his words. My mind raced with images of Freya—every moment we shared now tainted by those damn pictures.

"I need to find her," I muttered, pushing myself up from the chair with a force that nearly sent it crashing backward.

Morgan's hand shot out to grab my arm. "Mathers," he warned, "think this through."

"What would you do?" I snarled, my voice barely more than a growl. "If it was you, what would you do?"

Morgan stopped, eyes narrowing as he looked at me. I could see the gears turning in his head, the conflict etched on his face. For once, he was actually considering it.

"What I would do?" he said slowly, choosing each word with care. "What I would do and what you should do aren't the same thing."

"Coach," I pressed, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.

He flared his nostrils, his jaw tightening. "If that was my girl," he said slowly, deliberately, "I would make sure whoever did this to her couldn't breathe without a tube again."

His words hung heavy in the air between us, each one like a punch to the gut. The rage inside me churned hotter, fueled by his affirmation of what I already felt deep in my bones.

I nodded once; the decision made.

"Mathers," he said. "Consider —"

But there was no thinking now—only raw emotion driving me forward. Without another word, I stormed out of his office, ignoring the concerned looks from teammates and staff as I passed by. The halls blurred around me as I made my way to where I knew Dan would be.

There would be answers, or there would be hell to pay.

The campus soccerfields stretched out before me, a sea of green under the morning sun. The air was crisp, with a slight chill that promised the last vestiges of winter hadn't quite left us yet. Dew still clung to the blades of grass, sparkling like tiny diamonds in the light.

It was just after nine, and the fields were alive with activity. Spring soccer practices had started early this year, even though it was technically the off-season. Coaches barked orders while players ran through drills with military precision. The sound of cleats striking the turf and the occasional thud of a ball being kicked filled the air.

I spotted Dan easily enough. He stood out with his distinct build and cocky demeanor, weaving through cones with practiced ease. His face was set in concentration, oblivious to the storm headed his way. He wasn't alone; a few teammates moved around him, but my focus was singular.

My blood boiled as I watched him laugh with one of his buddies, completely unaware of my presence. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready to spring into action. I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to keep a lid on my fury for just a moment longer.

I started towards him, each step heavy with purpose. The distance between us closed rapidly, my heart pounding louder with every stride. He turned slightly as I approached, eyes widening when he recognized me.

"Mathers?" His voice held a note of confusion.

Without a word, I closed the gap between us entirely.

My vision tunneled, and Dan’s confused expression blurred into a single target. His mouth opened to say something, but the words never reached me. All I saw was red.

My fist flew before I could even think, connecting squarely with his jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone on bone resonated through my knuckles, a grim symphony to my rage. He staggered back, eyes wide with shock.

“Mathers, what the hell?” he managed to gasp out, but I was beyond listening.

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