Freya

Danielle walked up the gravel path with Nova and Ash in tow, their hooves crunching softly against the stones. Freya leaned out of the stable door, her chest tightening as relief surged through her. Nova was safe. Whole. Unhurt. Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision.

She rushed forward, pressing her face into Nova's warm neck. Her arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him like he might vanish if she let go. The familiar, earthy scent of his coat grounded her, but the tears came anyway, soaking into his mane.

"You're okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're okay, and that's all that matters."

Danielle stood close, resting a hand lightly on Freya's shoulder. "He's fine, Freya. Not a scratch on him. I found him grazing by the road."

She nodded, but the relief she felt was uneven, weighed down by the memory of Caleb—the way his hands had gripped her, the suffocating helplessness. She blinked hard, willing the images away, but they clung to her.

"There's someone who wants to talk to you," Danielle said quietly.

Freya lifted her head, brushing her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. She followed Danielle's gaze, her breath catching when she saw him. Seth was walking toward her. His confident stride was intact, but his expression wasn't as detached as usual. Concern flickered in his eyes, softening his otherwise sharp features.

Danielle gave Freya's arm a small squeeze before leading the horses into the stable. Freya barely noticed. Her focus stayed on Seth. A single thought echoed in her mind: What if he hadn't been there?

Seth stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. When she opened them, his gaze caught hers. In that look, there was a quiet assurance, a promise she wasn't sure how to name.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice cracking. "I'm so sorry—"

"Don't," he said, cutting her off. "Don't apologize. None of this was your fault."

A tear slid down her cheek. She reached to swipe it away, but his hand got there first. His thumb brushed the tear aside, the warmth of his touch startling her. It lingered for just a moment, but it was enough to make her breath hitch.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for—"

"I'm just glad you're okay," he said softly, his eyes not leaving hers.

The air between them shifted. Freya felt a strange pull, like her body wanted to move closer, to lean into the calm he seemed to carry.

They stood in silence for what felt like forever, neither of them moving. Freya broke the moment, her voice hesitant. "We just left him there... Do you think he's dead?"

Seth let out a faint scoff. "No. What I gave him was a warning. A very clear one. If he's smart, he'll get his horse and leave. If he doesn't..." His voice hardened. "Next time, I won't be so merciful."

The quiet conviction in his words sent a shiver through her. Freya wasn't used to feeling protected. It unsettled her, the way he seemed so willing to go to extremes for her. She narrowed her eyes slightly, studying him.

"He knows it was you," she said, her voice edged with worry. "What if he reports you?"

"He won't," Seth replied, his tone calm, almost dismissive. "I've dealt with men like Caleb before. He'll lick his wounds and stay quiet."

Freya hugged herself, her arms tightening around her middle as if that might block out the lingering unease. Seth tilted his head, watching her. Then, slowly, he reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder. His grip was steady, firm but not heavy.

"He won't come back," he said, his voice low but certain. "I made sure of that.. and if I ever see him following you again.."

His hand stayed there for just a moment longer, and somehow, the simple weight of it made her pulse slow. She let out a shaky breath, nodding. "I'm glad you were there."

~*~*~*~*~

Later that night, Freya stepped out into the cool air, the stable lights dim behind her. The moon hung low, casting a silver glow over the gravel path.

Seth hadn't left her alone all day. No matter where she went, he was there. Following her. Watching her. It was... strange.

He was leaning against the stone wall, his head tilted back as he blew thick clouds of smoke into the night sky.

She hesitated for a moment before walking over to him. "Can I have a drag?"

His sharp gaze flicked to hers, and without a word, he handed her the cigarette.

Freya took a deep pull, letting the burn of the smoke chase away the chill in her chest. The silence between them wasn't peaceful—it was heavy, buzzing with unspoken words and tension.

Finally, she broke the silence. "What did you mean when you said you know Caleb's type?"

His head snapped away, and she saw it. The way his shoulders stiffened. The way his jaw clenched, tight enough that she thought it might crack. Her chest ached with the realization, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Who hurt you like that?" she asked softly.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took the cigarette from her fingers, his touch brief, but it lingered in her thoughts long after. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't respond. Then he exhaled, slow and measured, like he was dragging the words out from somewhere deep and dark.

"My father," he said finally, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

The words landed hard, leaving a dull ache in her chest. A part of her heart broke for him—for the boy he must have been, and for the man still carrying the weight of that pain.

Her instincts screamed at her to reach out, to offer something, anything, to make it better. But she couldn't move. Her hands stayed at her sides, useless.

Something held her back—she didn't know how to comfort someone she wasn't supposed to care about.

And that made it hurt even more.

~*~*~*~*~

A couple of days later

The last two days had passed in a haze. Freya had stayed in her room, confined to her bed, her body too heavy and her mind too clouded to move or eat.

But now he was gone.

When the message had come through from Danielle thirty minutes ago—telling her that Caleb had left with Ash in a trailer—something inside her shifted. The weight lifted just enough to let her breathe again. She still felt shaken, but the fear had dulled into something manageable.

She was on her way out the front door to give Nova his evening feed. The air was colder now, the creeping touch of autumn unmistakable. She paused to grab a jacket, and when she stepped outside again, she caught sight of Seth leaving his house.

For a moment, her lips twitched into a hesitant smile. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt, seemingly impervious to the chill in the air. She started down the steps, unsure if she wanted to say something—or what she would even say if she did.

But then, movement from his open front door caught her attention.

A girl stepped out.

Freya stopped mid-step, her breath catching. She couldn't look away, though she knew she should. The girl—stunning, with long brown hair flowing down her back—walked toward Seth.

Freya's stomach twisted. She told herself it wasn't her business, but her feet refused to move.

Seth walked the girl to a car, his hand brushing against her back in a way that felt too familiar, too natural. The girl laughed at something he said, her voice light and warm, carrying easily in the cool evening air.

Freya's gaze lingered on his hand. The way it rested on the small of the girl's back—it felt like something intimate. Like something Freya shouldn't be seeing.

And then he kissed her.

Her chest tightened, a strange ache building in her stomach as she watched. It wasn't the kiss itself that struck her, but the way it made her feel. Like the ground beneath her feet had shifted, leaving her unsteady in a way she didn't understand.

Why did she care?

She forced herself to turn away, her legs carrying her back into the house before her thoughts could spiral further. Inside, she leaned against the wall, her hands pressed flat against the cold surface as she tried to steady her breathing.

It shouldn't have mattered.

But it did.

And she hated that it did.

She straightened, shaking off the heaviness in her chest. Whatever she felt didn't matter—she wouldn't let it matter. She couldn't.

This wasn't about him. This wasn't about her feelings. Because she didn't have any.

She wouldn't let herself have any.

A/N -- Writing this chapter was tough because I don't like this girl meddling in Freya and Seth's business. But there's so much more to come, and I can't wait to share it with you. I hope everyone is having a wonderful day <3

Love,
Kenna.