Chapter Eleven
1468 Words
The packhouse was quiet now. Most of my clothes were packed, the Fashion Nova pieces carefully folded, the streetwear meticulously arranged.
Piper had gone to speak with her father, leaving me alone in the room. The Birkin bag sat on the chair, a silent reminder of the conversation we'd just had.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
Duriel stood in the doorway, his stance rigid, something unreadable in his eyes.
"We need to talk about New Orleans," he said.
Twelve more hours.
"About New Orleans?" I leaned against the dresser, creating distance between us.
Duriel's eyes swept the room - taking in the packed bags, the carefully folded clothes. Something in his gaze felt different. Intense.
"Your father wants me to brief you on some details," he said, his voice professional. But there was an edge underneath. Something I couldn't quite read.
"Okay," I responded, keeping my tone neutral.
He pulled out a manila folder. Not a digital file. An actual, physical folder - which meant whatever was inside was serious enough that he didn't want it digitally recorded.
"Twelve more hours," he muttered, almost to himself.
Then he looked up, meeting my eyes directly.
Something shifted in that moment. Something I couldn't explain.
Duriel dropped the manila folder on the bed. His voice shifted, dropping into a more relaxed urban cadence.
"Yo, we can't let nobody know 'bout this move, for real," he said. "Council can't catch wind of nothin'."
I understood immediately. The council was hunting young she-wolves, gathering them for some unknown purpose tied to the prophecy. Our move needed to remain completely secret.
"No digital footprint," I confirmed. "No socials. No check-ins. Nothing."
He nodded, a quick jerk of his head. "Your pops been low-key about this whole thing."
Then he reached into his backpack, pulling out a small, unmarked box. Pushed it toward me.
"What's this?" I asked.
"New phone," he said. "New number. Untraceable. Burner, basically. Ain't nothing connecting this to the pack or our movement."
I carefully opened the box, the latest iPhone Pro Max gleaming under the room's soft light. Midnight black, maximum storage, cutting-edge tech that looked like it had just dropped from the latest release.
"Activated?" I asked.
"Bet," Duriel nodded. "Prepaid. Untraceable. Your parents made sure."
The phone felt heavy with potential. A lifeline. A secret weapon.
"You'll only contact specific numbers," Duriel continued. "Your parents. Piper. Lorenzo. Me. Brandon when he's at training. No one else."
I scrolled through the pre-loaded contacts. Each number carefully selected. Each connection deliberate.
My fingers traced the sleek edges. This wasn't just a phone. This was a connection to safety.
"Council won't catch a whisper," he said, watching me.
Something in his tone was different. Protective. Intense.
"Twelve more hours," I whispered.
The phone seemed to pulse with unspoken potential.
Duriel's hard exterior softened. For a moment, he looked less like a guardian and more like someone genuinely concerned.
"How you feeling about all this?" he asked, his urban dialect replaced by something gentler. "Two years. Me watching over you and Piper. New Orleans. Everything."
I appreciated that he was asking. Really asking.
"Honestly?" I said. "Nervous. Excited. Scared."
He nodded, understanding more than the words themselves.
"Your parents trust me," he said, almost like he was reassuring himself as much as me. "But I know it's weird. Me being basically your age, watching over you."
The iPhone sat between us, a symbol of the careful planning that had gone into our protection.
"Twelve more hours," I whispered.
Something in the room shifted. The space between us felt different. Charged with potential.
"I know we haven't always been cool," Duriel said, rubbing the back of his neck - a gesture that made him seem suddenly young, vulnerable.
I watched him carefully. This wasn't the typical guardian speech. This was something more.
"Pack dynamics are complicated," he continued. "And me being assigned to watch you and Piper? That's a big responsibility."
The iPhone glinted between us, a silent witness.
"I haven't even gotten my wolf yet," he admitted. "But my training... it means something."
His eyes met mine. Vulnerable. Honest.
"You trust me?" he asked. Not demanding. Genuinely wondering.
"Twelve more hours," I whispered.
And in that moment, everything felt like it was about to change.
Silence stretched between us. The kind of quiet that says more than words ever could.
"My training might not include a wolf," Duriel said, "but it includes something else."
I waited. He wasn't finished.
"Protection isn't just about supernatural strength," he continued. "It's about strategy. About understanding threats before they happen."
The iPhone sat between us, a symbol of the careful planning that had gone into our protection.
"Your parents chose me for a reason," he said. Not boasting. Just stating a fact.
His eyes met mine again. Something flickered. Something that wasn't just about being a guardian.
"Twelve more hours," he whispered.
And then he smiled. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but was genuine all the same.
Something changed in that moment.
Duriel leaned forward, almost imperceptibly. His eyes dropped to my lips. For a breath, for less than a heartbeat, the space between us disappeared.
Then he pulled back. Sharply. Like he'd touched something burning.
"Nah, I'm out," he muttered, taking a step back.
He grabbed the manila folder, avoiding eye contact.
"Catch you later," he said quickly.
And then he was gone.
What. Just. Happened?
The iPhone sat on the bed. The folder's absence left a strange emptiness.
Twelve more hours.
Duriel's POV
I stepped into the hallway, my heart racing.
"Damn," I whispered.
My phone vibrated. A text from Lorenzo.
"Yo, u good? Everything solid?"
I typed back: "All good. Mission prep solid."
But I needed to blow off steam. Now.
The gym was empty when I arrived, just the way I wanted it. Weights. Punching bag. Somewhere to push away the memory of almost kissing Kionna.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Lorenzo's voice cut through my thoughts.
I was mid-punch on the bag. Sweat already dripping.
"Needed to clear my head," I said.
Lorenzo leaned against the wall. "Somethin' happen with Kiki?"
I stopped punching. Turned.
The gym felt heavy with unspoken tension.
Lorenzo pushed off the wall, moving closer. "You been holding this in all this time?"
I laughed. "Bruh, you know I tell you everything. You've known how I feel about Kiki since we were fifteen."
"Facts," Lorenzo nodded. "Been watching you pine after her for years."
"She has no clue," I said, throwing another punch at the bag. "Always been Brandon's girl. Always been part of that arranged situation."
Lorenzo watched me. "But something changed today?"
"Something definitely changed," I confirmed. "Almost kissed her right before I left her room."
"And?" Lorenzo raised an eyebrow.
"And I pulled back," I said. "But something felt different. Like... maybe she felt it too."
Lorenzo grinned. "Twelve more hours until New Orleans. Anything can happen."
The gym felt charged with possibility.
"You really think something's gonna happen?" I asked, grabbing a water bottle.
Lorenzo leaned against the weight rack. "Kiki's always been different. Arrangement or not, she's got her own mind."
I nodded. Years of watching her. Years of knowing every detail.
"Brandon's going to alpha training," Lorenzo said. "Two whole years away."
"And Kiki's gonna be in New Orleans. With me."
Something in the room shifted. The possibility felt real now.
"Her parents trust me," I said. "But they have no idea how I feel."
Lorenzo's laugh was sharp. "Nobody knows except me. And now? Anything can happen."
"Twelve more hours," I whispered.
The punching bag swung between us. A silent witness to everything about to change.
"You gonna make a move?" Lorenzo asked.
I grabbed a towel, wiping sweat from my neck. "Can't just blow up her whole arrangement. Her family's been planning this for years."
"Arrangements change," Lorenzo said. "Especially when true connection happens."
I knew he was right. I'd watched Kiki for years. Known her better than anyone. Her laugh. Her strength. How she moved through the world.
"Brandon's gonna be gone two years," I repeated.
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"And Kiki's gonna be with me," I said slowly. "Protecting her. Living with her."
The gym suddenly felt smaller. More intense.
"Twelve more hours," Lorenzo said.
Something was definitely about to change.
"You really thinking about making a move?" Lorenzo pressed.
"I can't just disrupt everything," I said. But my voice lacked conviction.
Two years. Just me and Kiki. Protection detail. Close quarters.
Anything could happen.
"Kiki's not just some girl," I told Lorenzo. "She's... different."
Lorenzo nodded. "Been watching you watch her for years, bro."
The weights clinked. The punching bag swayed.
"Twelve more hours," I whispered.
And then I heard footsteps.
Kennisha walked into the gym.
My heart stopped. s**t!
- Writer
