Page 91 of Checks & Bonds

Each curl was a release, a small attempt to channel my rage. My mind, however, remained a battlefield. Freya's face kept flashing before my eyes, her laughter, her defiance, her hurt.

"Why does she always run?" I muttered to myself, my voice bouncing off the concrete walls. The weights hit the floor with a dull thud as I switched to the bench press.

Lying back, I stared at the ceiling, pushing the barbell up with a force that matched my frustration. The strain on my muscles felt good, a temporary distraction from the chaos inside my head. I still didn't know what I wanted. The clarity I sought remained elusive, slipping through my fingers like sand.

I missed her. It was a truth that hurt more than any physical pain. I missed the way she challenged me, the fire in her eyes when we argued, the rare moments of softness she allowed me to see. But every attempt to hold on to those moments seemed futile. They crumbled under the weight of our issues.

The barbell clanged as I racked it, my breath coming in heavy pants. Sweat dripped down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I sat up, rubbing my face with my hands, trying to wipe away the frustration.

The gym felt like a cage. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating me. I needed to move, to do something, anything to escape the torment of my thoughts.

But no matter how hard I worked out, no matter how many weights I lifted or how fast I ran on the treadmill, one fact remained: I missed Freya. And that truth, simple yet complex, was something I couldn’t shake.

A buzz from my phone interrupted my thoughts. The notification displayed someone at the door. I checked the camera feed, expecting a delivery or maybe one of the guys, but instead, it was Richard. What the hell was he doing here?

I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off my face, the damp cloth cooling my heated skin. With a sigh, I headed upstairs; the stairs creaking beneath my weight. Each step felt heavier than the last.

Reaching the main floor, I pulled open the door, facing my uncle with a steely glare.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice low and edged with irritation.

Richard handed me a thick envelope. "It's done," he said, his tone devoid of emotion. "Your marriage is off. The one thing that could have saved you."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process his words. "What?"

"Your fiancée," he continued, "ex-fiancée, I should say, signed. You know, she really did care about you. Wanted to make sure my father's legacy didn't fall apart because of your violent tendencies and her easy inclination."

My hand shot out, grabbing his collar, yanking him closer. His eyes widened, a flicker of fear breaking through his usual smug demeanor.

"Hey," he said, raising his hands defensively. "You really want to pummel me before the board meeting?"

"I don't care about the meeting."

"Well, you should," he retorted, his voice steady despite the situation. "Your girl wouldn't even take the money I offered. She just wanted to make sure you still got to play hockey."

My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

"But you'll be stripped of your inheritance, naturally," Richard continued, his tone mocking. "You've gone against everything your grandfather wanted for you, and?—"

"Get out," I cut him off, my voice shaking with barely contained rage.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Get out of my house," I repeated, tightening my grip on his collar. "Before I send you to the hospital too."

For a second, fear flashed in his eyes before he smoothed it down with a glare. "I can't wait to see you get what you have coming to you," he muttered, wrenching himself free from my grasp.

He turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the doorway, the contract still clutched in my hand.

I watched Richard's car pull away, my anger boiling over. Freya had broken off the engagement. The one lifeline that could’ve tethered me to sanity was gone, severed with a signature on a piece of paper.

I had to see her.

Without wasting another second, I turned and stormed back into the house. Each step echoed in the hollow silence, a reminder of the emptiness that now seemed to fill every corner of my life. I grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter, my knuckles white with tension.

I locked up, my movements mechanical, my mind focused on one thing: getting to Freya. The house felt like a cage, and I needed to escape. I needed to see her, to understand why she’d done this. Maybe I already knew. Maybe it was because of me, my actions, my inability to communicate. But I needed to hear it from her.

The garage door creaked open, and I slid into the driver's seat of my car. The engine roared to life, a sound that usually calmed me, but today it only fueled my urgency. I didn’t care about the board meeting. I didn’t care about the game. All that mattered was Freya.

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