Page 25 of Checks & Bonds

The words hung in the air like a death knell. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked around, searching for an exit, for any way out of this nightmare.

But it was too late.

8

Henry

Istood in the Show Room, tugging at the cuff of my tailored suit. The fabric felt stiff against my skin, a mix of silk and wool in a charcoal hue. My shirt, white and crisp, peeked out just enough to contrast with the deep maroon tie knotted tightly around my neck. It was a suit designed to impress, but tonight, it felt like a costume.

My eyes kept drifting to the door. Freya's face lingered in my mind. Did I want her to show up? The question twisted in my gut. Part of me hoped she’d walk through that door and part of me feared it.

Across the room, laughter erupted from a cluster of men. Their voices carried over, crude and biting.

"Did you see the one Jacob intends to Claim? Poor girl won't know what hit her," one said, his grin wide and wolfish.

Another chimed in, "Bet she'll be begging for mercy by morning."

I clenched my fists inside my pockets, knuckles pressing hard against the seams. Their words grated on me like nails on a chalkboard.

"What about you, Alex? Got plans for your new toy?" someone else asked.

Alex laughed, a harsh sound that scraped through the room. "Oh yeah. She's gonna learn her place real quick."

The air thickened with their arrogance and entitlement. It made my stomach churn. This was supposed to be a night of tradition, but their words turned it into something vile.

I glanced back at the door again, hoping—fearing—that Freya would step through any second now.

Mr. Collins strode into the room with an air of authority that commanded immediate attention. His presence was imposing, his tailored suit sharp and immaculate, his graying hair slicked back with precision. His eyes, a steely blue, scanned the room, assessing each of us with a calculating gaze.

"Gentlemen," he began, his voice resonant and steady. "Tonight, we uphold a tradition that has been the cornerstone of our society for generations."

He paused, letting his words sink in. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to shake off the unease creeping over me.

"This ceremony," Collins continued, "is not merely about selection. It is about bonding with one person, creating a partnership that reveals loyalty and leadership qualities."

The room was silent except for the faint rustle of fabric as men adjusted their ties or straightened their jackets. I caught Jensen's eye from across the room. He met my gaze with a soft smirk that set my teeth on edge.

"Through this bond," Collins went on, "we train our chosen partners to be perfect reflections of ourselves. This is where true strength lies—in unity and understanding."

I could feel the sweat beginning to bead at my temples. Collins' speech felt like a shackle tightening around my chest. I glanced at Jensen again; his smirk hadn't faltered.

Jensen volunteered to get the girls ready earlier in the evening. The thought gnawed at me now. What did he know? What had he seen?

"You seem tense," Jensen's voice broke into my thoughts as he sidled up next to me.

"Just ready for this to be over," I replied, my voice flat.

"Don't worry," he said with a chuckle. "It will be. And that's where the fun begins."

What did he mean by that? The smug look on his face made me want to punch something—or someone.

Collins finished his speech with a flourish. “Remember, tonight we honor our legacy by forging bonds that will shape our future."

Applause erupted around me, but it sounded distant, muffled by the pounding in my ears. My eyes darted once more to the door.

Jensen leaned in closer. "Relax, Henry. We're going to Bond."

His confidence grated on me like sandpaper against raw skin. Relax? Fuck him.

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