: A Bag Full of Regrets
The Distance Between Hate and Helplessness
The night was silent, but Dee's room was anything but calm. Clothes were scattered, shoes misaligned, zippers half-open. Dee sat cross-legged on the bed, her suitcase wide open like her soul—messy, uncertain, and full of things she didn't want to take with her.
She threw in two black hoodies, some ripped jeans, a couple of worn-out tees, her favorite boots—the ones with the silver laces Duke once complimented and she had immediately stopped wearing. Toothbrush, charger, the small perfume bottle she always kept hidden in the drawer. Then her fingers hesitated over an old photograph—Rayyan smiling, her eyes half-closed, mid-laugh.
She blinked fast. No. Don't.
With a sigh, she shoved her charger in aggressively and zipped the bag. It was late. Too late to cry. Too early to run. Yet, here she was—packing for a ride with the one person she wanted to punch more than she wanted answers from.
She sat on the floor, back against her bed, hugging her knees. I hate this. I hate him. I hate everything.
But King was out there. And Stape wasn't just a name anymore—it was a storm. And to find them, she had to use the storm she despised most—Duke.
Her eyes grew heavier. The phone slipped from her hand. And just like that, Dee fell asleep on the floor, next to a suitcase of fears and a heart full of cracks.
---
Morning.
Her phone vibrated violently on the wooden floor, the ringtone slicing through her sleep like a knife.
"Ughhh," she groaned, barely lifting her head as she searched for it under the blanket that had half-fallen off the bed.
She picked it up. The name flashed: Duke.
She answered in a groggy, annoyed voice, "What?"
"I'm outside," he said smoothly, like he wasn't the reason her blood boiled. "Come out."
Her heart skipped a beat—not out of excitement, but dread. "Outside where?"
"Your place. Obviously."
That sobered her up. She sat straight, hair a tangled mess. "How the hell did you get my address?"
A pause. "Dee," he said with a half-smirk in his voice. "I know everything."
Her jaw clenched. She didn't reply. She hung up.
---
She dragged her suitcase downstairs, yanked the door open, and there he was—leaning against the car like he was in some action movie, sunglasses on, too cool for someone she wanted to strangle.
"How did you find where I live?" she repeated, arms crossed.
"I already told you." He smiled. "I know everything."
"You're disgusting," she muttered.
He popped the trunk without flinching. "You're not the first to say that."
Dee rolled her eyes and roughly tossed her bag in. She paused. Looked at him. "I'm only going with you because I need answers about King and Stape. So don't even think of talking to me more than necessary."
Duke raised both hands like he was surrendering. "Noted. You hate me. You've made that extremely clear. Can we go now, or do you wanna insult me a few more times first?"
"Shut up."
---
On the road.
The city began to disappear behind them as the highway opened up ahead—long stretches of asphalt, the occasional billboard, and wind slicing through silence.
Duke tapped the steering wheel, humming. "So... where do you think Stape's hiding?"
Dee didn't even turn her head. "You think if I knew, I'd be stuck in a car with you?"
"Fair," he said, smiling. "You're really good at making people feel unwanted. It's impressive."
"Good. Then we're clear."
"By the way," he said, trying again, "nice boots."
"I will jump out of this car if you say one more thing that sounds like a compliment."
Duke laughed. "You'd really do it too, wouldn't you?"
Dee stared at the road ahead. "You have no idea."
He fell silent for a second. Then, "Can I at least put on music?"
"As long as it's not your voice recorded on a mixtape."
He chuckled. "Damn. You are on fire today."
Dee didn't answer. She was watching the trees blur past, thinking of King. Thinking of Rayyan. Thinking of how this road might be leading her toward answers—or into another trap.
And beside her sat Duke—smug, dangerous, mysterious Duke.
She hated him.
But she needed him.
And that was the worst part.
The sun had started to sink into the horizon, washing the highway in hues of gold and fading orange. After hours of driving, Duke finally slowed the car and pulled into a quiet, worn-out hotel just outside the city—its signboard flickering like it was too tired to stay awake.
Dee turned off her phone without saying a word. She didn't want to talk to anyone. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing that reminded her of who she used to be before this mess.
Duke parked, leaned back in his seat, and turned to her. "We'll rest here for a bit—"
Before he could finish, he reached over, trying to unbuckle her seatbelt. That was a mistake.
Dee's eyes flared. In a split second, she shoved him back into his seat with a force that startled even her. "Be in your limits!"
Duke blinked, hands up like he was dealing with a wild animal. "Woah! I was just helping you open the door and untying the seatbelt."
"Helping me?" Her voice cracked into fury. "Helping me? You think I forgot how you kidnapped Ayat? How you hurt her? How you beat me up just to ask about powers I don't even have?"
She was almost shaking now. "I told you so many times, I don't have them! I'm not some science project! So stay. In. Your. Lane."
Duke didn't even flinch. His voice dropped to something colder, sharper. "We'll see after we test your blood."
Dee's heart skipped. "What test?"
"Lab test," he replied calmly. "I'm going to examine your blood. And you have to do it—because you don't really have a choice."
She gritted her teeth. "And what if I won't?"
He looked at her straight. "Then I won't help you find King."
Her breath hitched. Her lips curled in disgust. "You're a monster."
"Maybe," he said. "But I'm the only monster who knows where your King might be."
---
They walked toward a roadside shop a few steps away from the hotel. Dee didn't want to go. She made that crystal clear with every glare and sigh.
"I'm not hungry," she said flatly.
"You need to eat," Duke replied, holding the shop door open. "You'll need energy. For the tests."
She didn't move. "I'm not going in."
Duke leaned close enough that she could feel the heat of his words. "Go in and take something... or I'll make you."
Her hands curled into fists. She stomped in.
Inside, Dee aimlessly picked a packet of chips and a water bottle, her lips pursed like she was holding back every insult in the book.
Duke smirked behind her. "See? That wasn't so hard."
She slammed the bottle on the counter. "Next time you threaten me like that, I swear I'll—"
"Please do," he cut her off with a smirk. "It's kind of entertaining."
---
Back on the road, the skies darkened, and the city lights were long behind them. They drove for two more hours through narrowing roads, past silent woods and empty lands.
Finally, they reached a small village hidden far away from the world. Crickets chirped, dogs barked in the distance, and time itself seemed to have slowed down here.
Duke pulled into a narrow path lined with trees and parked in front of a modest apartment building, only two stories tall.
"This is my place," he said, grabbing her suitcase from the trunk before she could object.
"I didn't ask," Dee muttered, following him reluctantly.
Inside, the apartment was quiet—too quiet. It smelled like fresh paint and something burnt, probably from Duke's attempt at cooking... or existing.
He led her down a small hallway and opened a door.
"Here," he said. "Your room. Bed's clean. No cameras. Yet."
Dee glared. "Not funny."
"I thought it was," he replied with a shrug and walked away.
---
The day dragged like a wound that wouldn't close. Dee didn't eat. She stared at the ceiling. Her thoughts ran wild—Rayyan's face, King's disappearance, Stape's threats. Everything haunted her.
That evening, Duke knocked on her door and stepped in, holding a medical kit. "Time for the test."
"No," Dee said, hugging her knees on the bed. "You're not taking anything from me."
"You want to find King, right?"
Silence.
He set the kit on the table. "Then give me what I need."
"I'm not a freak experiment," she said coldly.
"No," Duke said, softer this time, "but you're part of something much bigger than you think."
There was a long pause. Then Dee stood up slowly. Her voice was hollow. "Do it. But if this hurts more than it has to, I swear I'll find your worst nightmare and make it real."
Duke stepped forward, rolled up her sleeve gently, and wiped the area with alcohol. For a second, his touch was careful—almost respectful. But Dee didn't care.
She looked away as he drew the blood, her jaw tight, her nails digging into her palms.
"You done?" she asked, her voice like ice.
He nodded, capping the vial. "Yeah."
Dee pulled her sleeve back down and turned away without another word.
Outside the room, Duke stared at the blood sample in his hand. His face unreadable. His mind calculating.
And Dee?
She stood by the window, watching the wind shake the trees—wondering what else she'd lose before she got King back… and how much more she'd have to give to someone she despised.