Zak glowered at the man in front of him. Looking around the room he saw a window, and a door. His uncle was at the door. But the window might not be the best way. Something was off. Perhaps it was the fact that the floor was moving back and forth. That meant he could be on a boat. But without knowing which way land was. So the only safe way was to get passed Doyle. He lowered his center of gravity. Doyle noticed because he lowered his too. The bad thing about being trained by the same people.
Since they were going nowhere, Zak ran straight toward the door. He darted away from Doyle's hands that were trying to grab him. But Zak slipped out leaving his shirt in Doyle's hands. He slipped down the hall because of his lack of traction on the floor. He fell on his rear skidding across the floor. He finally stopped when his back hit a wall.
"Jesus," he cursed standing up. Heavy footsteps echoed down the halls. Doyle was obviously coming. He began running next to the wall. He stopped when he heard footsteps in front of him.
"Zak. I need to talk to you. Please listen," he heard Doyle yell. Not so much a plea but close enough for a mercenary's apprentice. Zak steadied his breath to just above a whisper.
"Zak, I found your parents," he said calmly. Zak stopped breathing for a minute.
"I know you probably don't believe me. You still have your ring right?"
Zak instinctively went to the ring around his neck. The gold still grew lustrously in the light. The Zak written inside sparkled.
"They miss you Zak. They didn't want to give you up. They thought you were dead."
Zak scowled.
"You lie," he yelled letting his emotions get the better of him. He quickly realized what he did and began running again. The floor was more stable thankfully. He could run faster. Unfortunately so was anyone else here. Because he soon found himself in someone's arms. The arms of a tall man. Taller than his uncle.
"Easy. You alright Zak?" asked the man. His voice was smooth and comforting. So much different than Van Rook's gravelly voice. He tensed though. He didn't know this man. And before he could think about escaping, Doyle showed up with a woman behind him. She was pretty. She had long light blond hair. She had a smile on her face like she had just won the lottery.
"Zak...," she said teary eyed as she walked up. Before he knew what was going on He was pulled into her embrace without being let go by the man. Zak squirmed violently in their grasp. But they didn't let go.
"You're okay," she said softly. He looked up at her. Her eyes were red from most likely crying. Though why she would be crying was beyond him. She stroked his hair out of his eyes. She looked down at him with deep dark eyes.
"Zak. Thank god you're alive," said the man. Zak squirmed out of their grip. His eyes were wide and frightened. There was no way. No way in hell.
"Doyle... These... these are your... that's your...," he stammered before coughing, "Sister?"
Doyle nodded.
"There's more to it than that mini-man," he began.
"What? A star wars moment when you tell me they're my parents?" he remarked. Everyone looked speechless. Not a good sign. That usually meant that something said hit right on the money. His face paled. Hell no. His legs began to feel like jelly. He stumbled back a bit despite the fact the floor was not moving. Zak's horror and shock showed on his face. He made no effort to hide it.
He mentally smacked himself and yelled, "Van Rook's my dad. He raised me. He didn't leave me!"
A bright orangish-yellow spark filled his eyes. Doyle ran over to Zak. He covered his eyes and held him down.
"Zak you need to calm down," he said.
"Calm down? You really are out of your fucking mind! Why should I calm down?" he said not registering tears falling out of his eyes wetting his uncle's glove. He choked back a sob. He wanted nothing more to do with a trader uncle. Now this was going to be held over him forever. But he wasn't a traitor. He was a mercenary by right. Not their son. It was all a lie. He struggled effortlessly against his uncle's firm grasp. The world around him was permanently setting in a way he never wanted it to.
"Zak please. We just want to help," Doyle tried to calm him down. But Zak felt a pulsing of heat inside his body. Rage? Hatred? Anger? No. He didn't know what it was. But it didn't feel good. It felt horrible and dark. Like drowning. And like drowning, he didn't know how to stop it. He was in too deep.
I am a cliff hanger girl. Please review!