Ch.3 A Father's Love (Part 1)

Wyatt Vaughn stares impassively as a young girl with straight black hair and bronzed skin attempts, for the fourth time, to strike the target in front of her with her throwing knives. She secures her blindfold as she takes a deep, steadying breath. The girl holds two knives in each hand. As she aims at where she knows the target to be and lets the knives fly from her fingertips; she listens with bated breath for the sound of contact. Thunk. One blade sinks into the wooden target. Thunk, two, thunk, three; but the fourth blade clatters to the stone floor, and the girl sucks in a fearful gasp. She rips the blindfold off and looks dejectedly at the target. Two of the knives rest next to each other at dead center. The third just barely pierces the outer edge, and the fourth lays pathetically on the floor, a foot to the left. The girl hears her father scoff, then winces as his fingers close in a tight grip around her hair and yank her head up to meet his eyes.

"What's wrong with you girl? You've been practicing for months and you still can't get it right. Your sister could do this at your age with barely a week's practice. Why are you so useless?"

Wyatt violently turns her head to watch her sister, who is training with Wyatt's subordinates.

"Look. That's how it's done."

Rhea's beautiful auburn curls are pulled into a thick braid. Her slim fitting black trousers and chest bindings show off lean legs and toned abs, as she lithely dances around her attackers, who are all wearing thick, protective pads and neck guards. She dodges each attack with ease, delivering powerful kicks, or swinging her blade, in retaliation. In a matter of minutes, all four of Rhea's sparring partners are on the ground, rubbing their injuries with sour looks on their faces. Rhea stands straight and turns to look at Wyatt, who is still holding her sister by the hair. Rhea's cornflower eyes glitter with cold malice at the sight, and she points her blade at his chest.

"Father. Let go of Riley's hair."

Wyatt grins in a threatening way but drops his hand from Riley's hair. He barks at his men to get back on their feet, then focuses his wicked grin on Rhea again.

"You were absolutely flawless again. The same can't be said for your sister. Riley obviously needs to watch your movements closer. Do it again. No weapons this time."

Rhea glowers at her father but sheaths her blade in the holster strapped to her thigh and settles into a low, wide stance with her hands held in loose fists on either side of her face. Her breathing is slightly heavy. She has been training several hours already. Her father's lackeys' glance to each other in confusion, then begin to put away their weapons as well.

"No. You will still fight with weapons, and you had better fight like you mean to kill her, or I'll make you regret it. Oh. And Rhea? You will be fighting blind."

Wyatt tugs the blindfold out of Riley's hands, wads it up, and chucks it at Rhea, who snatches it from the air. She glares at Wyatt with so much acid, it's a miracle he doesn't melt. Rhea's gaze shifts to Riley, who looks both terrified and full of guilt. Rhea knows she is being punished for her sister's failure. Rhea's eyes soften, and she flashes Riley a small smile in an attempt to reassure her. Then, she slips the blindfold on, turns back to her father's lackeys, and steadies herself with a deep breath. She can feel her father's gaze burning into her back. She ignores it as she hears the first quick footsteps approach, and the whir of a blade slashing through the air toward her face.

Rhea sidesteps gracefully. Her lack of sight isn't new to her. She has lost track of the number of times she has had to fight blind, intentional, or not. Her other senses quickly pick up the slack. She can feel the heat emanating from a body directly in front of her and smell the sweat pouring from his overworked muscles. Rhea can hear his shallow, strained breaths, and feel them on her face. She reaches out and grabs the man's head, driving her knee up at the same times as she pulls down with her arms. She slams her knee forcefully into his face, noting the crunch of his broken nose with grim satisfaction. The man stumbles away and collapses, and Rhea jumps away just in time to avoid a swipe from her left. She reaches out again, grips this man's wrist, twisting his arm nearly to the breaking point, and swings her right leg into his side with all her strength. His ribs and arm fracture under the force. She shoves him away and ducks low to avoid the third strike coming from behind. Putting her weight on her hands, Rhea swings her body around, tripping her third attacker with her left leg. She hears him gasp as he tumbles forward, crashing into the man with the broken arm. They fall to the ground with a low thud, and loud groans.

The fourth to come at Rhea is nearly as small as her, and light on his feet. She doesn't hear his approach but does hear the blade cutting through the air at the last second. Rhea spins her whole body away, hissing as the blade just grazes her collar bone. The attacker swings at her again. Rhea is ready this time and ducks her head to the left. Her right-hand snaps out, gripping onto a slender shoulder and holding him in place. Rhea thrusts her left fist into his diaphragm, then lets him go and quickly backs away. She hears him choke and his hands and knees hit the ground with a hard slap. Knowing she has won; Rhea rips off the blindfold and presses it to her burning collar bone. She stomps over to her father, grabs her sister's hand, and pulls her toward the door leading out of the basement.

"We're done. Riley needs to get ready for school."

Wyatt only laughs cruelly at her retreating back, and Rhea grits her teeth in frustration.

Rhea glances down at her sister as they walk to school. They live in one of the beautiful brick homes in the nice part of town now, which is only a few minutes' walk to the school. Riley is glaring at he ground as she walks, arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. Although her face is mostly hidden, she can see that her sister's teeth are clenched tightly and can hear them grinding. Rhea sighs, reaching a hand out to brush against her sister's arm.

"Riley—"

"Why does he hate me so much? Why do I have to be such a screw up? Why can't I be perfect like you? Then he'd love me! You got hurt again because of me. Why does he have to punish you like that? I'm the one who messes up all the time. Why!?-"

"Riley."

Rhea's hand closes firmly around Riley's shoulders, pulling her to a stop. She lifts her sister's chin gently and wipes the unshed tears from her eyes. Those wide honey eyes stare up at her, full of guilt, pain, and so much anger, and it makes a hole deep in Rhea's chest ache, thinking of her mother. Rhea kneels and pulls Riley into her chest, holding tightly as her sister's muffled sobs soak her shirt. She runs a hand gently through Riley's hair; as she has done for 10 years, as their mother always had when Rhea was upset.

"You are not a screw up. Not being able to throw knives accurately, especially while blindfolded, doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. You are a kind, loving, beautiful girl, and I don't want you to be anything else. I am not perfect. And I'm also just fine, so don't feel guilty. You shouldn't ever feel guilty for the things father does. They are not your fault Riley."

Riley sniffles loudly, then lifts her head to stare up at Rhea, eyes red.

"Then why doesn't he love me?"

"He…-"

"And why do you have to hate him so much!?"

"What?"

Riley pushes away with a violent shove. Her honey eyes are narrowed and a glare that leaves Rhea speechless.

"You're always glaring at him, even when he praises you. You treat him like a pariah when all he wants is your love—"

"That is Not what he wants. That man doesn't love anything."

But Riley isn't listening. She backs farther away, pointing an accusing finger at Rhea's chest.

"Maybe if you weren't so hateful and dismissive, he wouldn't be so angry. You're the reason he hates me!"

"Riley, that doesn't make any sense. Come on."

Rhea tries to grab her sister's wrist, but she yanks it away and turns to run.

"No! Just leave me alone!"

Rhea watches, crestfallen, as Riley runs away and out of sight. What is she supposed to do, tell her the truth? No. That will only crush her spirit. Eventually, Riley will realize on her own what kind of man Wyatt is. Rhea just needs to be patient with her sister. She is only a little girl, after all.

Rhea sucks in a pained breath as she pulls her bindings tight. Her breasts are pressed uncomfortably against her breastbone, but it is necessary. She pulls on a loose-fitting top, and her forest green cloak. Wyatt walks into the room just as she finishes tucking away her blades. He stares at her coolly as he questions her.

"Target's name?"

"Lord Thomas Wright."

"Obstacles?"

"Two guards at the front entrance, total of ten guards in the house. Possible military police presence."

"Mission?"

"Get to Lord Wright without being discovered. Retrieve what he stole. Kill him. Get out."

"Good."

Wyatt turns to leave but stops in the doorway. He glances back, and the mischief in his eyes is unsettling.

"Two more things."

"Yes, father?"

"Don't forget we are hosting the military ball at the concert hall tonight. The carriage leaves here at eight, makes sure you're back in time to get ready. Don't be late."

"Yes father."

"And you may encounter the new Captain of the Karenes district military police. Tall. Blonde. Name's Emmett Parker."

Rhea stares at him suspiciously. He had never told her Not to kill someone in the past ten years. He doesn't laugh or hint that he may be joking. Rhea sighs.

"Yes, father."

"Good."

And he leaves her in peace.

Rhea stares coldly at the blubbering mess of a man knelt at her feet, hood and mask concealing her face. It had been easy work sneaking into the mansion and finding her way to the master's quarters. The guards were slow, inattentive, and arrogantly assured of their own strength. Now, here is lord Wright, on his knees begging for his life. His balding grey hair is combed over the side of his head. He has rolls in places Rhea didn't think was possible, and the stench of cologne is almost overpowering. She presses the edge of her knife to his throat, and a new string of barely coherent, blubbering pleas start.

"P-please, spare me! I didn't mean to offend Mr. Vaughn. I'll never disrespect him again. Please have mercy!"

"Mr. Vaughn has no sympathy for those who steal from him. I'll ask you one more time. Where is it?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about I swear! Please s-!"

In a flash, Rhea grabs Lord Wright's hand, places it against his desk, and without blinking, slices two fingers clean off. Lord Wright lets out an undignified squeal of pain and terror, holding his bloody hand to his chest as he stutters.

"Alright! It's in the safe, behind the painting to your left. The key is here."

With a trembling hand, Wright pulls a gold key from his breast pocket. Rhea snatches the key and makes her way to the large, ornately framed painting of his self. Pulling down the painting does in fact reveal a small steel box, cemented into the wall. Rheas opens the safe with the key and pulls out several large bags of opium, then tucks them away inside her cloak. She makes her way back over to Wright. He is a pitiful mess, laying on the floor clutching his injured hand and openly sobbing. Rhea catches the unmistakable odor of urine and suppresses a gag. He is absolutely pathetic. There is no point at all in killing him, but Rhea was given her orders. In complete silence, Rhea kneels behind him and draws her blade again. She yanks his head back, slicing the knife across his throat before he can cry out. She drops his head, stepping back and watching blood soak the burgundy carpet. Time to go. The door, which she had locked, slams open with enough force to splinter the frame. Rhea looks up, blade at the ready.

An MP stands in the door, rifle pointed straight at her chest. He's almost a foot taller than her, with ashy blonde hair, and chocolate colored eyes. He's broad shouldered, but not all thick muscle like Wyatt. He is all lean muscle, a soldier's build. He's not wearing any ODM gear, or even the harness. And strangely enough, he's wearing his dress uniform. This man, Rhea surmises, must be the new Captain, Emmett Parker. He opens his mouth to speak. Rhea doesn't give him a chance. She pulls two knives from her belt and hurls them at his chest.

Emmett ducks out of the way and the knives lodge into the wall behind him. Rhea is already in front of him, ripping the rifle from his distracted hands and swinging it at his head. He dodges again, and the stock splinters as it collides with the door frame. Rhea tosses it aside and swings the blade in her left hand at Emmett's face. He grabs her arm and attempts to pull her into him. She thrusts her left arm up, around, and under, forcing his wrist to twist unnaturally, and his grip on her arm breaks. While he's off balance, Rhea lifts her right leg, and slams her boot into his gut as hard as she can. Emmett stumbles back from the doorway with a pained grunt. Rhea doesn't miss her chance. She surges forward, gripping his shirt and shoving him into the wall, slamming his head against it as she presses the blade to his throat. A small trickle of blood escapes and slides down his neck. His chocolate eyes bore into hers as they stand in the deserted hallway. He doesn't cry or beg for his life. He simply waits for his fate with a challenging stare, completely unafraid.

Rhea removes the blade from his throat, and before Emmett can retaliate, slams the hilt roughly into his temple. He slumps over immediately, and she releases him, tucks her knife away, and escapes out the window.