Chapter Ten
1985 Words
The packhouse buzzed with pre-departure chaos.
Three omegas carefully folded my clothes in my bedroom, their movements gentle and precise. Sarah, the most experienced of the group, carefully arranged my leather jackets while Emma, the youngest, meticulously rolled my workout gear.
"Would you like these folded differently?" Emma asked, her voice soft but confident.
"They look perfect," I reassured her, appreciating her attention to detail.
Piper flopped onto my bed, still wearing the same clothes from last night's alpha meeting. "My dad is seriously not convinced about Duriel," she muttered.
I knew exactly what she meant. Alpha John had been hesitant about Duriel being our guardian, arguing that a more experienced warrior should supervise two young Alpha she-wolves in a supernatural hotspot like New Orleans.
"My dad convinced him," I said. "Dad explained that Duriel, being the next gamma, has the best combination of skills and supernatural connections."
Piper rolled her eyes. "Your dad made it sound so logical. My father was still grumbling about Duriel being too young, not traditional enough."
The omegas continued packing, carefully avoiding direct eye contact during our conversation but listening intently.
"Twelve more hours," I said, looking at the nearly packed suitcases. "Twelve more hours until New Orleans."
BRRRRRRRRRRNG
My phone vibrated. Brandon.
I'd been avoiding this conversation.
BRRRRRRRRRRNG
I swiped the phone, a smile already spreading across my face. "Hey, baby."
"Yo, what's good?" Brandon's voice was warm, familiar. "You ready for this New Orleans move?"
The omegas continued packing, but I turned slightly, creating a bit of privacy. "Getting there. Piper's here, we're packing up."
"Two years of alpha training," Brandon said, his tone serious but soft. "A lot can happen."
I knew exactly what he meant. Our families had meticulously arranged our marriage, but we'd made one thing crystal clear: if either of us met our true mate during his training or my departure, we wouldn't break our connection.
"We agreed," I reminded him. "If I meet my true mate while you're gone, or if you meet yours, we're not breaking what we've built."
Most wolf couples would immediately bond with their true mate. But Brandon and I were different. We'd chosen each other, planned our future together. Our families were shocked when we'd declared that even a true mate wouldn't disrupt our plans.
"If you find yours," Brandon said, "I want you to tell me immediately."
"Same," I responded. "No secrets."
The omega girls continued folding, pretending not to listen, but I knew they were hanging on every word. Supernatural gossip was currency in pack life.
"Two years is a long time," Brandon said. "But we're solid."
"Solid," I echoed.
"I love you," he said, the words carrying weight and certainty.
"I love you too," I responded, meaning every syllable.
The call ended, but the warmth remained. Piper looked up, a knowing smile on her face.
"Twelve more hours," I repeated, more to myself than anyone else.
Piper stretched across my bed, careful not to disturb the carefully folded clothes. "So," she said, her tone deliberately casual, "how are you feeling about all this?"
Emma, the youngest omega, was meticulously rolling a leather jacket, her ears clearly perked to listen.
"About New Orleans?" I asked, sliding my phone into my back pocket.
"About everything," Piper clarified. "The move. Brandon's training. Duriel watching over us."
Sarah, the most experienced omega, exchanged a quick glance with Emma. Pack gossip was about to get good.
I sighed. "It's a lot. Two years away from everything I know. Brandon gone for his alpha training. Me in New Orleans with you and Duriel."
The room fell into a comfortable silence. The omegas continued packing, their movements precise and practiced.
"Twelve more hours," Piper repeated my earlier words, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
Something was coming. And we were ready.
"So," Piper said, propping herself up on her elbow, "tell me again about this whole true mate agreement you and Brandon have."
Sarah and Emma exchanged knowing glances. Pack gossip was about to get good.
I rolled my eyes. "We're not breaking our commitment just because a true mate shows up."
"Most wolves would lose their minds at the idea," Piper laughed. "A true mate is supposed to be everything."
"We chose each other," I explained, my voice steady. "Our connection isn't just about supernatural destiny. We've built something intentional."
The omegas continued folding, their movements careful but their attention clearly focused on our conversation.
"So if you meet your true mate during these two years," Piper pressed, "you'd what? Just... ignore them?"
"Not ignore," I corrected. "We'd be honest. Tell each other immediately. But our commitment stands. We're getting married. We've planned our future."
Sarah, unable to contain herself, dropped a folded shirt. Emma quickly picked it up, both trying to look like they weren't completely absorbed in our conversation.
Piper shook her head, grinning. "Only you would make a supernatural contract about true mates."
"Twelve more hours," I repeated, a smile playing at my lips.
The room hummed with anticipation.
"So," Piper said, a mischievous glint in her eye, "does this mean Brandon and I get to be part of your marriage or what?"
I burst out laughing. "Oh, you want to join our marriage?"
Sarah and Emma froze, their folding momentarily suspended. Pack gossip had just reached peak entertainment.
"I mean," Piper dramatically flopped back on the bed, "I'm basically your sister. Might as well be your co-wife."
"In your dreams," I shot back, matching her playful tone. "Besides, Lorenzo would kill you."
Piper wiggled her eyebrows. "Lorenzo wishes."
The omegas tried to look busy, but their ears were clearly tuned to every word.
"Twelve more hours," I said, still laughing.
The room vibrated with the kind of energy only best friends understand - part joke, part absolute truth, completely unbreakable.
Piper's playful expression suddenly shifted. Her voice dropped, becoming serious. "You wouldn't actually reject your true mate, would you?"
The omegas' movements slowed. The room's energy changed.
"We have an agreement," I said, but there was a hint of uncertainty.
"Rejecting a true mate isn't just breaking a supernatural bond," Piper said softly. "It weakens a wolf. Physically. Mentally. You know that."
I knew exactly what she meant. Rejecting a true mate wasn't just an emotional wound. It was a spiritual fracture that could devastate a wolf's inner strength, their connection to their pack, their very essence.
"I know you," Piper continued. "You don't have the heart to cause that kind of pain. No matter what agreement you and Brandon made."
Sarah and Emma exchanged a knowing look. This wasn't gossip anymore. This was a deeper conversation about supernatural law, about the intricate bonds that defined wolf existence.
"Twelve more hours," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
The room remained heavy with unspoken understanding.
I let out a long breath. "Honestly? I have no idea how I'd handle it."
Piper waited, knowing I needed to work through this out loud.
"The most important thing," I said slowly, "is being honest. With Brandon. With myself. With the potential mate."
The omegas continued folding, but their movements were more deliberate now. This wasn't just conversation—this was understanding the complex supernatural dynamics of mate bonds.
"I can't imagine hurting someone like that," I continued. "Rejecting a true mate would destroy them. And it would destroy a part of me too."
Piper nodded. "So you'd tell Brandon immediately."
"Immediately," I confirmed. "No secrets. No hiding. Just... total transparency."
"And then?" Piper's voice was gentle.
"Then we figure it out," I said. "Together. Because what Brandon and I have—it's a choice. A commitment. Not just some supernatural accident."
The room felt different. Quieter. More profound.
"Twelve more hours," I whispered.
The weight of potential futures hung in the air.
Sarah carefully folded a Supreme hoodie, its bright red color standing out against the more muted tones of my other clothes. Emma was meticulously arranging a stack of Stüssy t-shirts, making sure each graphic print was perfectly centered.
"Those are my favorite streetwear pieces," I said, watching them.
The Supreme hoodie was a limited edition drop Brandon had gotten me last winter. The Stüssy shirts were from a collection I'd picked up during a pack trip to the city.
Piper grabbed a Nike Tech Fleece jogger from the pile. "These are fire," she commented.
The omegas continued their precise folding, handling each piece of clothing with a respect that made me smile. Urban streetwear wasn't just clothing to me—it was a statement, a way of expressing identity beyond our wolf heritage.
A Off-White jacket hung carefully on a separate hanger, its distinctive diagonal stripes a stark contrast to the more traditional pack clothing I'd grown up wearing.
"Twelve more hours," I repeated, my hand brushing against the Supreme hoodie.
The room hummed with anticipation of the journey ahead.
Sarah carefully folded a Fashion Nova jumpsuit, its tight silhouette a stark contrast to traditional pack clothing. Emma was arranging a stack of Fashion Nova jeans, each pair carefully pressed.
"Those are my going-out clothes," I laughed, pointing to the pile.
A Birkin bag sat carefully draped over a chair, its expensive leather gleaming. Beside it, a pair of Hermès sneakers were positioned like artwork.
Piper picked up the Birkin. "Fancy," she commented.
"Brandon's first big gift to me," I explained. "Before we really knew each other, this was just an arranged marriage."
The omegas listened intently, their folding momentarily pausing.
"At first, it was just an agreement," I admitted. "Our families arranged everything. But now?" I smiled. "We've fallen in love. Completely."
Brandon had already experienced his wolf transformation, which confirmed we weren't true mates. That moment of certainty had been a relief—and a beginning.
"He got his wolf last year," I continued. "Dark silver. Powerful. Nothing like a true mate connection. Just... a real connection."
Piper nodded, understanding the nuance.
"Twelve more hours," I whispered.
The room felt charged with possibility.
"But what if," Piper pressed, her voice persistent, "what if your true mate is something you can't ignore?"
The omegas continued folding, but their movements had slowed. Sarah's hand paused mid-fold on the Fashion Nova jumpsuit.
"I don't know," I admitted. "That's the honest truth. Brandon and I have talked about it, but talking and experiencing are two different things."
"Your wolf might react differently," Piper said. "Instincts aren't something you can just logic away."
I picked up the Hermès sneaker, turning it over in my hand. "We've agreed to be transparent. No secrets. If something happens, we tell each other immediately."
"And then?" Piper's eyes were sharp, probing.
"And then we figure it out," I said. "Together."
The room felt heavy with unspoken supernatural possibilities. The omegas exchanged a quick glance—they'd heard enough pack gossip to know how complicated mate bonds could be.
"Twelve more hours," I repeated, more to myself than anyone else.
The Birkin bag seemed to watch us, an expensive silent witness to our conversation.
Piper's eyes suddenly narrowed. "What if," she said slowly, "your mate is someone you already know?"
The omegas froze. Sarah's hand stopped mid-fold on the Fashion Nova jumpsuit. Emma's fingers clutched a Stüssy t-shirt.
"Someone I know?" I asked, skeptical.
"Someone really close," Piper said, her voice deliberately casual. Her eyes flickered meaningfully toward the pile of clothes. "Someone you've known your entire life."
I caught the direction of her glance. "Duriel?"
Piper said nothing, but her smile was knowing. The way she tilted her head suggested more than her words admitted.
"He's just going to be our guardian," I protested, but there was a slight uncertainty in my voice.
The omegas continued folding, but their ears were clearly tuned to every word.
"Twelve more hours," Piper said, her tone mysterious.
The Birkin bag seemed to watch us, an expensive silent witness to possibilities not yet spoken.
- Writer
