"Why do we keep doing this?"

"Because stopping will hurt more."

Seth

"I'm right here," he said softly. "Right behind you."

Seth could feel Freya trembling, the weight of her fear pressing down on both of them. He knew her thoughts were spiraling, but he also knew she couldn't stay stuck in this moment-she had to push through it. He had to help her.

She sat slightly hunched forward, her hands gripping the handlebars tightly. She didn't speak, didn't move. It was as if she were locked away in her own mind, unreachable. Seth leaned in, wrapping his arms around her waist. His chest pressed lightly against her back, his warmth a small comfort he hoped would calm her.

"What do you say when someone falls off a horse?" he asked gently, tightening his hold just a little. "Do you tell them to give up?"

"No..." she murmured, her voice fragile as she tilted her head slightly toward him. "I tell them to get back on."

"Exactly," he murmured. "And now I'm telling you to do the same. I'll help you if you need me, Freya. I won't let go."

She turned her head forward again, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. With a deep breath, she started the bike.

And just like that, they were no longer standing still.

Freya handled the bike effortlessly, her movements smooth and controlled. As the road curved and twisted, their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, flowing with the rhythm of each turn.

His arms stayed firmly wrapped around her, and he could almost feel her confidence returning, steady and strong. The darkness had fully settled in now, making it harder to see the road, harder to drive-but it didn't stop her. Freya was in control, keeping her speed steady.

And then, that feeling crept over him.

Pride.

Seth couldn't hold back the smile spreading across his face. He was so damn proud of her. One of his hands slid from her waist, resting gently on her thigh. He could feel the subtle movement of her muscles as she worked the bike, her warmth seeping through his glove. Slowly, his thumb began to trace back and forth in soft, soothing strokes, a quiet reassurance he hoped she'd feel.

She veered off the main road, guiding the bike onto the gravel path that led up to the stable. Seth watched her closely, hoping she could see what he saw-that she was in control, not just of the bike but of her fear.

As long as she didn't let recklessness take over, she was made for this. She was made to ride.

But the sight that met him in the parking lot made his good feelings disappear in an instant.

Fucking Tom was still there.

"Stay here," he said firmly to Freya as he got off the bike. He yanked his helmet off in one quick, irritated motion and started walking toward the car.

Tom got out, calm and collected, like he didn't have a care in the world.

Seth stopped a few feet away from him, and Tom casually leaned against the car, crossing his arms.

"What are you doing here? Hm? Don't you have anything better to do now that I'm here?" Seth snapped.

Tom let out a low, mocking chuckle. "You two looked pretty cozy on that bike," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "I hope you're not letting the little bitch wrap you around her finger."

"What I do is none of your business," Seth growled.

Tom's smirk faded as his eyes narrowed. "Oh, but it is my business, boy. You're not about to throw away your life for nothing more than a warm body to fuck," he snapped.

"Watch your fucking mouth," Seth snarled, stepping closer in an instant, his fists clenched tightly. "You need to leave. Now."

Tom didn't back down. He took a step forward too, his hollow eyes burning with anger. "I know you, Seth. You're impulsive, reckless, and stupid as hell. Don't let that little whore walk all over you. She's not worth it. Don't fall for the first bitch who gives you a scrap of pathetic attention," Tom spat.

Seth's body tensed, his jaw tightening as Tom's words hit their mark. His fists were already clenched, and the searing anger bubbling inside him finally snapped.

Without warning, Seth's fist shot forward, crashing with Tom's jaw in a brutal punch. The force sent Tom stumbling back against the car, a grunt escaping him as he grabbed the side mirror for balance.

"You don't talk about her like that!" Seth roared. He stepped forward, towering over Tom, his chest heaving with barely restrained fury.

Tom wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spitting onto the ground as he straightened. His smirk was gone, replaced with cold anger. "That all you got?" he sneered, his voice steady despite the swelling on his face.

Seth didn't answer with words. Instead, he grabbed the front of Tom's shirt and shoved him hard against the car, the metallic clang reverberating through the parking lot. "Leave, Tom. Now," Seth growled.

Tom glared at him, his breath heavy, but he didn't move to fight back. Instead, he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You're weak, Seth. Not even a real man. Letting a cunt like that crawl under your skin?" He paused, his tone turning colder. "Don't make the same mistake I did with your mother. Be smarter. Do better."

"Get the fuck out," Seth snarled again, shoving him one last time before stepping back.

Tom's gaze shifted from Seth to Freya, who sat frozen on the bike, her eyes wide with fear. A cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Hey, you-come over here," he shouted.

Before the words fully left his mouth, Seth flew at him, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble back against the car. "Don't," Seth warned.

Tom steadied himself, brushing off the front of his shirt, but the smug look didn't leave his face. "What's the matter, boy? Afraid she might hear the truth?"

Seth stepped closer, towering over him, his fists trembling with the effort to hold himself back. "You so much as look at her again, and I'll make sure you don't walk away this time."

And just when he thought the situation couldn't get any worse, he felt her steady presence behind him.

Seth snapped his head toward her, his glare sharp and full of warning. "Freya, leave. Go inside the house," he muttered, before jerking his head in the direction of the house.

But she didn't listen. Why didn't she listen?

"You really shouldn't get caught up in Seth's mess, honey," Tom said, his voice slick with mock concern. "He's no good for you. Trust me, he'll screw you over and leave you hurting." He paused, his tone growing sharper. "Seth doesn't know how to love-only how to fuck. On tour, he's got a girl in every country, hell, in every city. You're just another stop along the way. He doesn't care about you," Tom spat.

Seth's mind stopped working.

Tom's words hit him, and everything around him seemed to blur. The adrenaline surged through his veins, his pulse hammering in his ears. He saw the tears welling in Freya's eyes, the way her lips trembled before she turned and ran toward the house without a word.

He stood there frozen, his body tense, his throat dry. He couldn't move. He couldn't stop her. He couldn't even speak.

And then Tom's voice shattered the tense silence.

"There. You're welcome," Tom said, his tone furious yet eerily calm. "Problem solved. You know-hoes are easy to get rid of. Just tell them they're not the only one, and their whole world crumbles."

The words dragged Seth out of his haze like a switch had flipped. His blood boiled, his chest rising and falling with the storm brewing inside him. His hands curled into tight fists as he turned to face Tom, his eyes dark and full of unrestrained fury.

"I'll fucking kill you!" he shouted, launching himself at Tom. His fist slammed into that disgusting face once more, harder this time, and Tom hit the ground, staying down.

Seth didn't give him another glance. He just left him there.

He sprinted toward the house, shoving the front door open with enough force to make it rattle before slamming it shut and locking it behind him.

"Freya?" he shouted, his voice echoing through the house. But only silence answered him, followed by Danielle's groggy voice.

"What's going on?" she mumbled from the living room.

Seth poked his head around the doorframe, his tone sharp and urgent. "Where's Freya?"

Danielle blinked at him, looking half-asleep. "I don't know. Isn't she with you?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he turned and bolted up the stairs, his heart pounding harder with every step.

Bursting into the bedroom, he stopped in his tracks. Freya was there, her back to him, frantically shoving her belongings into his backpack. Her hands were shaking as she moved, and the sight of it sent a pang of guilt and panic through him.

"Freya," he said, his voice softer now, but she didn't turn around.

"Freya, please. What are you doing?" he asked, desperation creeping into his tone.

He had no fucking idea how to fix this.

"I'm leaving," she said hastily, her hands shaking as she shoved more of her things into his backpack. "I can't stay here, in this house, with you. It's my own fault for letting myself care."

Seth grabbed the backpack from her hands, forcing her to spin around and face him. Her eyes blazed with anger.

"Give it back," she spat.

"No. You don't get to leave me," he snapped, his gaze locking onto hers, unflinching.

"Well, isn't that ironic?" she shot back, her voice dripping with bitterness. "Sounds more like it's you who's going to leave me."

He shook his head slowly, his jaw tightening. "Don't believe his words, Freya. Please. He's an evil man. He only cares about himself," he pleaded, his voice trembling slightly.

"Really? So it's not true then? Not a single word of it is true?"

His grip on the backpack tightened, his knuckles white. He bit his lip hard, searching for the right words. "I'm not using you. I-I'm-"

"But you have hundreds of other girls, right? I'm just the next one in line?" she cut him off, crossing her arms as tears brimmed in her eyes.

"Freya, no," he said softly, stepping closer to her. "I don't care about them. It's nothing like how it feels with you. It's different with you. And yeah, it's scary, but it's also so damn amazing."

Her voice broke as she snapped back, "How many, Seth? How many have you fucked? Seriously?"

He felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling, the weight of her words crushing him. He wanted to sink into a hole and disappear. "You make it sound like I'm a dick. It's not that many, and honestly, it's none of your concern," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Her face twisted in pain, her tears threatening to fall. "Maybe not. But I'd like to know who I'm letting touch me. Who I'm letting so close to me. Who I'm letting take my body and my soul. Sorry if I care about knowing if I'm just another fuck like the others," she wept.

"You're not like them," he said softly, his tone desperate as he towered over her. "You are so much more than that. I swear."

He reached out, his hands gently pulling hers from her chest and intertwining his fingers with hers.

"You can't feel that for me," she whispered.

"What? You just said-"

"I know what I said," she cut him off, shaking her head. "But it doesn't matter. We won't fucking work anyway. So let's just drop the whole thing."

"You were the one who said we're fucked either way, and we should just enjoy it while it lasts," he murmured, trying desperately to soothe her.

"Well, what the hell did I know?" she shot back. "Every damn day I spend with you, every hour-it's like it's dragging me further and further down to the truth." She wrapped her arms around herself, her hand stroking the length of her arm.

Seth moved without thinking, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.

"None of us will back down," she whispered. "So what the fuck happens when one of us has to lose? Will you be able to stay here then?"

Her eyes welled with tears, but her voice didn't waver. "Because I'm not sure if I can. Or actually, I can't."

Seth froze, her words slamming into him like a blow he hadn't seen coming.

"Freya," he whispered, his voice cracking. He tightened his hold on her, desperate to ground her, to ground himself. "Please don't do this. Don't shut me out like this."

She pulled away, stepping out of his arms, her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder, as though looking at him would shatter her completely.

"I can't keep doing this, Seth," she said softly, her voice trembling with exhaustion. "It's killing me. You're killing me."

His chest felt hollow, as if her words had carved him open. "I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted that," he whispered.

"Well, you did," she whispered back, finally meeting his gaze, her tear-filled eyes piercing straight through him. "You are. And I don't know if I can take it anymore."

"Freya..." he stepped closer, his hand reaching out for her, but she flinched, and it stopped him dead in his tracks. That small movement hurt more than any words ever could.

"Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Don't make this harder than it already is. You and me... we were doomed from the start, Seth. And I was stupid enough to think we could outrun that."

He stood there, rooted to the spot, watching as she zipped up the backpack with trembling hands and slung it over her shoulder.

She paused at the door, her back to him. "Why do we keep doing this?" she asked.

Seth's throat tightened as he whispered the only truth he had left. "Because stopping will hurt more."

The silence that followed was deafening. She didn't look back, didn't say another word.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her felt louder than anything he'd ever heard. And just like that, she was gone.

Seth stood alone in the silence, the weight of her absence crushing him. His chest ached, his fists clenched tightly at his sides as he stared at the empty doorway, willing her to come back.

But she didn't.