Page 18 of Checks & Bonds

"You will not attend the Imprinting ceremony," he declared, leaving no room for argument.

I glared at him, feeling the heat of anger rise in my cheeks. "Did Liam tell you?" I scoffed. "Typical."

Henry remained silent, his jaw set in a firm line.

"Like I said," I continued, my voice steady and defiant. "You don't own me."

"I do," he insisted, his tone cold and unwavering.

"Not yet," I ground out. "And if Jensen Ackerman claims me?—"

"If Jensen Ackerman touches one hair on your skin, I will break every bone in his body, and I'll make you watch," he growled, taking a step towards me. "Do not test me, Freya."

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Where is this coming from? You've said three words to me all year. And now, because you hear I'm attending the Imprinting ceremony, you're what, bossing me around?"

"As your husband, I have that right," he said with an air of finality.

"You're not my husband yet," I snapped back.

The tension between us was palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. Henry's eyes bored into mine, filled with a mixture of anger and something else—something I couldn't quite place. My pulse quickened as we stood there in silence, each of us refusing to back down.

The truth was undeniable: our engagement was nothing more than a carefully constructed façade. Henry's sudden possessiveness only highlighted the cracks in our relationship. Hell, this wasn't even a relationship.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The wind rustled through the trees around us, carrying with it the faint scent of spring leaves. The world seemed to hold its breath as we faced off, neither willing to concede an inch.

In that moment, I realized just how much was at stake—not just for me but for everyone caught in the web of our lives. And as much as I wanted to believe otherwise, there was no escaping the reality of our situation.

"I need to hear you tell me you won't go," Henry demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, your word means something? Is that it?" I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Henry said nothing, just stared at me with those cold, unyielding eyes. The silence between us grew heavier, like a storm cloud about to burst.

"Why do you have to be so stoic?" I demanded, shoving him again. My hands met the hard wall of his chest, but he didn't budge an inch. "Why can't you react?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought you didn't want me to," he said in a low voice. "When I do react, it's too much. Isn't that what you said after my conversation with good old Dan, hmm?"

"That wasn't a conversation," I retorted. "That was a beating."

He gave me a look that said it was all the same to him.

"You're an asshole."

"I've never denied that," Henry replied with a maddening calmness. "But you will not attend?—"

"Are you?" I interrupted, my voice rising.

"What?" he asked, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"Are you attending?" I pressed on. "Are you going to claim Rebecca? That's what she's insinuating is going to happen. Is that what this is? You want to have your cake and eat it too?"

Henry's jaw tightened, his gaze never leaving mine. For the first time in our conversation, he seemed genuinely taken aback.

"That's not?—"

"Save it," I cut him off, my anger boiling over. "I'm not your pawn to be moved around as you please. If you're going to stand there and tell me what I can or can't do while you're planning on being with her?—"

"I'm not planning anything with Rebecca," he snapped back, his voice finally breaking its icy veneer.

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