Chapter 11 Kristen
The suitcase didn’t belong to me. Not really. It was too new. The handle clicked too cleanly. The zipper hadn’t caught on anything yet. It smelled like synthetic leather and glue, and every time I touched it, I felt like I was packing someone else’s life.
I didn’t fold anything. I tossed. Shirts. Pants. Two pairs of shoes. A black jacket I didn’t even like. The box of books went last, barely taped shut. I couldn’t make myself seal it all the way. Every item I added made the whole thing feel more final. Like I wasn’t coming back. Like this wasn’t just a school I was heading to, but a place I’d vanish inside and never crawl back out of.
Patricia lingered nearby, folding my shirts into tighter rectangles behind me and rearranging things after I dropped them in. She was fussing. But she didn’t speak for a long time.
When she finally did, it was quiet. Careful.
“Your father didn’t want you staying in the dorms.”
I didn’t look up. “Yeah. That’s what you said.”
“It was part of his arrangement with the Academy. You’ll have an off-campus residence, at least for the first term. Until they evaluate.”
“Evaluate what?”
She hesitated. “You.”
I let out a breath and shoved a hoodie into the corner of the bag. “He wanted me to go there. Doesn’t mean I want to stay.”
“You’ll need to.”
“I won’t.”
Patricia picked up a pair of boots from the floor and set them into the case like they were fragile. Her expression had gone tight again. Not upset. Just wary.
“Phoenix Academy,” she said, “likes to market itself a certain way. Special programs. Advanced curriculum. Gifted students. You’ve read the pitch.”
I had.
It sounded like any other school trying too hard to make you feel chosen.
Patricia kept going.
“But that’s not what it is.”
“Then what is it?”
She looked at me, hands folded in front of her now. “A containment system.”
“For what?”
“For people like you.”
I laughed under my breath. “My kind?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not anything.”
She didn’t smile. “You’re different. You always have been. Even if it hasn’t shown yet.”
I didn’t answer. I zipped the suitcase halfway and walked out of the room. I needed air. I needed something to make the pressure in my ribs back off.
She followed.
The stairs creaked under my weight. I reached the bottom and leaned against the post, keys already in my hand. I wasn’t waiting around for Leo or anyone else to tell me how this was going to go. I wasn’t a kid. I could drive. I could disappear if I wanted to. Maybe not for long. But long enough to breathe.
Patricia stood on the landing and didn’t move. “I went there,” she said.
I looked up.
“Phoenix. Briefly. I didn’t stay.”
“Why not?”
“Because I knew what I was walking into.”
She came down one step. Then another.
“The upper levels rule the school. Legacies. Families tied to governments. Companies. Bloodlines that have power and the paperwork to keep it. They run everything—student councils, protection squads, underground networks. And nobody stops them.”
I tightened my grip on the keys.
“If you want to survive there, you learn to keep your head down.”
“You’re saying stay invisible?”
“I’m saying don’t die trying to be loud.”
The way she said it made something in me recoil. I hated the fear in her voice. I hated that she thought it applied to me. That I was supposed to walk in already braced to shrink.
I turned toward the garage door.
The plan was simple. Take the car. Find a gas station. Map a route. Decide the rest on the way.
But when I stepped into the driveway, I saw it.
The bike.
His.
Parked dead center like it had grown there. Black. Low. Loud-looking even when silent. Leo stood beside it, arms folded. Leather jacket half-zipped. Dark jeans, heavy boots, hair slicked back like he’d bothered to try this time.
He was watching me.
I stopped.
The garage light buzzed above us, casting his face in thin yellow shadow. The bruises on his knuckles were healing. There was a scar near his jaw I hadn’t seen before. I looked away quickly, but my brain didn’t stop.
I remembered the way he looked under the outdoor shower. Not a dream. Not an accident. The way his hand moved. The way his mouth had been open, silent, his muscles tight, his cock flushed dark and dripping under the water. I remembered the way he jerked when he saw me, the fury in his voice when he told me to get inside.
I remembered it too well.
My thighs pressed together without meaning to.
His voice cut through the silence. “Going somewhere?”
I held up the keys. “Thought I’d drive.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“I don’t need—”
He pulled the helmet from the back of the bike and held it out. “Get on.”
The ride was quiet.
My arms around his waist felt the same as before. Steady. Close. Too close. His jacket was warm under my fingers. The leather had molded to his body in places, stretched tight across his back. When we leaned into a turn, my chest pressed against him, and my mind went dark fast.
I thought about wrapping my hands around his chest from the front. About the feel of his abdomen. About how thick his thighs looked in those jeans and how they’d feel trapping me in place. The thought made me want to crawl out of my own skin.
He was my father’s friend.
He was old enough to be my father.
I wasn’t allowed to think these things.
But the scent of his cologne got caught in my throat. Clean. Sharp. Too intimate.
I swallowed and pulled back slightly. He didn’t react.
He was silent the entire way. Not cruel. Just shut down. Like something had clicked off inside him and he’d chosen not to share whatever was left.
The road narrowed. Trees grew denser. Signs disappeared. Then came the fence. White metal. Too tall. The top curled inward like a claw.
Phoenix Academy.
The buildings rose beyond the gates. Sharp-lined. Wide. All glass and concrete. They looked less like a school and more like a tech compound or a military institute. Students in dark uniforms walked in groups along the inner perimeter. All of them turned when the bike rumbled to a stop at the gate.
Their eyes swept me. Slow. Cold. Assessing.
I felt like meat being measured.
Leo didn’t move.
I slid off the bike and pulled the helmet from my head. My hair was a mess. I felt sweat cooling at the back of my neck, and my hands trembled as I passed the helmet back to him. He didn’t take it.
He just looked at me.
No goodbye. No advice.
Just a nod.
I turned and walked forward.
Each step felt heavier than the last. The crunch of gravel under my boots was the only sound I could hear. When the gate shut behind me, I didn’t flinch. But I felt it. Like a seal closing. Like a key turning.
I didn’t turn back.
But I felt his eyes on me.
Even when I couldn’t see them.