Black Equation - The Hunted Ones

TWELVE

"Do not live half a life, and do not die half a death."

TWELVE

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?"

"Heaven, maybe?"

Ophee threw a dispassionate gaze behind her as she slipped her feet into the combat boots that reached mid-calf. It had been four days since the newcomers were washed ashore on her private beach by the cliff, and her ankle sprain had healed by now. She's back in tip-top shape, meaning, she's back to her main chore--tracking.

Her mother was standing at the bottom of the stairs in her sleeping gown, the telltale signs of crying still visible in her eyes. Her lips were thin with disapproval, but Ophee couldn't care less. Yes, the old Ophee would have been frozen at the sight with clammy hands. Unfortunately, she was no longer the kind of girl that submissively danced to the tune of other people.

Her mother was as pale as a ghost, and Ophee was pretty sure that the lighting had nothing to do with it. Her role was to comfort her mother, but she was done taking care of the woman who never learned. It was becoming a wearying cycle. If her mother could not accept reality, then Ophee had no choice but to act on her own.

From her mother, she could see hundreds of threads attached, none of them white...even the ones shared within the family. The one closest to white, a thread that could only be considered silver at most, looked faint. Like it was about to disappear.

That thread represented the one man the family could not afford to lose.

Her younger sister, Cee, was hovering at the top of the stairs, no doubt the reason why their mother caught her sneaking out at ten in the morning, if her guilt-stricken expression was anything to go by. For someone supposedly on her side, her sister was doing a shitty job of showing it.

"You are not leaving, Ophelia. That is an order," her mother shouted when she reached out for the door knob.

"Oh?" She laughed darkly, arching a perfectly plucked brow. "You're giving orders now like father?"

"You're asking to be killed--"

"If I want to kill myself, I would only have to climb your ego and jump down to your IQ."

She stepped out of the blasted house before her mother could even utter another word. She didn't want to start a fight, now of all times. Time was of essence.

Today, with her father missing, his life hanging on the thread, only her ability could save him. At this moment, she was already thinking that her curse was a kind of gift.

Let the Family hate her, and she gave not a shit. She was long done being the perfect daughter and the good girl, especially since being 'good' and 'perfect' meant absolute obedience. So what if her bloodline and ability are precious? What was her ability for if she couldn't use it for her own father? She'd rather be hated as selfish and disobedient if it meant she'd be saving lives.

Ever since that incident three years ago, she had yearned to be out on the field, doing the protecting instead of being protected. Honestly, it was kinda tough being her, but she had long gotten used to it.

However now that her father was missing, and with her mother having no control over the upper echelon, the majority of them supported Ophee going on a mission outside.

Good thing no one knew she had fainted last night, or else, her mother would have used that to hold her back. Funnily enough, no one but her sister had knowledge of that incident. It only proved that aside from keeping her at home, her family paid little to no regards for her.

She climbed into the passenger seat of the red sports car waiting in front of the main house. She knew that this was her ride, as the other cars had already left. Red was tacky though. She would have preferred a more low-key black.

Ah, no wonder. Her Uncle Brandon was the one in the driver's seat, and he had an unlit cigarette hanging on his lips. This must be his personal vehicle, not the Family's. He must have bought it recently, as she had never seen him drive it before.

With a naughty smirk, Ophee snatched the stick and put it in her mouth.

"Where's your lighter?" she asked after rummaging his glove compartment.

He grinned, clearly amused at her unconventional greeting. "Hey, you're only fifteen yanno."

"Hey yourself." She rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "The lighter?"

"In my pocket."

"Which pocket?"

"The front one."

"See, that wasn't too hard, Uncle."

Without waiting for him to hand it to her, she pushed her own hand inside his pocket.

"Found it." She offered him the sauciest smile she could muster before opening the window and taking a long, delicious drag. The stress she had accumulated for the past couple of days were dragged out of her system along with the smoke.

"Pfft." The car drove swiftly out of the driveway. "I regret teaching you how to smoke."

"Well, you can't be blamed--that night, it was either you teach me or I snitch on you on Auntie Angela."

Brandon only hummed in response, and as he drove to who-knows-where, Ophee could feel the atmosphere turn somber.

She took a shaky breath. "Can you tell me now what happened to Dad?"

"It's The Hand."

Ophee closed her eyes. She had expected that after checking the background of those two boys. If she wasn't mistaken, those two boys held powers that the enemy hunting them couldn't afford to lose. From the random memories she acquired from Prince Blondie, she could tell that they were special existences even among her kind. Of course, The Hand would be all over the place in order to find the two boys.

She thought she was mentally prepared, but apparently, she had been lying to herself.

The Hand. The most notorious among the organizations that target the curse carriers.

While other groups were only interested in human trafficking, The Hand was infamous for hunting curse carriers to do experimentations on them. They treated those with special abilities as nonhumans. Those they had captured, forget getting out alive, they could not even leave with a complete corpse. From what she had seen from Falcon's memories, it was a living hell on Earth.

"Did they catch Dad? Are we going to rescue him?"

Brandon shook his head. "It would have been nice if Cee was able to help. Unfortunately, her ability of Sight can't be deliberately triggered. We only know he's alive because you can see his thread, but his whereabouts are unknown. You'll need to track him--but we will give up if we find out that he's been captured. Sorry if it sounds heartless, Ophee, but I think you understand, right?"

She bit her lip, not giving him a response. But deep inside, she knew.

If they were to go head to head with The Hand, they would risk total annihilation. Not just her mother and sister, but also the innocent lives being supported and protected by their family.

Back in Chicago, they were being eyed by an organization that wasn't even fit to be called a group compared to The Hand, yet they were forced to run to a different State.

If The Hand did capture her Dad, and if they were to discover that the Creed Family was hiding in Alkin...

Well, she would need to have a nice talk with Christian Cruz and Falcon Williams.

Because there's no way in hell she would give her father up.

And there's no way she would go down without a fight.

A glint of determination shone on her hazel eyes. She lifted her hand to touch the faint blue thread connecting Brandon to her Dad. Blue, the color of respect.

"Turn left. Ready your walkie-talkie, Uncle. We'll be hiking into the woods."