Chapter Three - 'You're going to get yourself killed'

Ophelia eagerly waits for the werewolf to make good on his promise and eventually finds out the information she seeks about what she is.

A couple days after sneaking back into town, I'm finding my time is running out. I've survived the part where I sneak back inside, unlock my father's study and head to my room before anyone noticed I was gone. But now, I have to find a way to get information on when this 'trade off' the wolf talked about is going down and then get it back to him. He ran off before I could get a phone number or anything, but I assume it's because he knows I'll be back into town. He'll find me, I'm sure.

I've been making sure not to anger my father. I need him to forget I exist for a few days while I figure out the information I need. I never really thought to ask myself why the werewolf wants to know about this deal going down so bad. Maybe he wants to stop it? I don't really know and to be quite honest, I don't really care. I just want the information about what I really am. There's a meeting room my father uses with his men and I just so happen to be lucky enough for one of those meetings to go down right now. They never last very long so I have to act quick. If anything, my father is going to have information on what I need to know in his study. I could eaves drop on what's being talked about in the meeting, but it could be a waste. There's no guarantee that they're going to talk about it in their meeting. But I do know he puts everything in his planner in his office.

Tip-toeing down the hall, I reach for the key to unlock the office. One of these days, my father is going to find out I'm not as stupid as he thinks I am. Hiding a key in a plant is the oldest trick in the book! Nevertheless, it makes my job easier. Quickly but carefully, I begin to shuffle through some papers on his desk, looking through to find his calendar or anything that could have the information written down. All while keeping quiet. I find a piece of paper with a printed memo from what looks like an email on it about Saturday, but nothing with a location though. I have to keep looking. Looking at his computer, I sit down to try and log in but he's got a password set. S**t. I start typing in what I think they might be. After three or four attempts, I have no luck. But then I've got an urge to try one more time... I try to use my name. Surely, that's not going to be it, right? He acts like he hates me. Wrong. It works!

It takes me a moment to think about that. I would say he's bad at passwords too, but then again, the way he acts towards me, I didn't really think it would work. But my desperation made me try it. Now I just need to figure out how to use this thing. I've only used a computer a few times in my life and that's because my father wants me to have nothing to do with the outside world for obvious reasons; to be oblivious on how to do things on my own and completely dependent on him. Locating an icon that looks like an envelope, I assume that means e-mail and proceed to click on it. I find a string of emails and start sifting through quickly. Locating one that finally has the information I need, there's a spark of excitement boiling through my chest. I'm finally going to get answers!

The sound of the conference room door opening down the hall triggers panic, however. Causing me to quickly close out my tabs, lock his computer and trying to put things back into a neat pile. It's too late to just walk out so I think quick and sit down in one of the chairs across from his at the desk, acting like I hadn't done what I had just done. His foot steps come closer and then he stops, “Ophelia?” He asked, making me jump and turn my body to look at him, “What are you doing in here? How did you even get in here?” I can tell by the tone of his voice, he's getting angry. “The door was open. I wanted to ask you something.” I'm totally pulling this off. He begins to look around his office like he doesn't believe me, walking around to take a seat in his chair. He takes a few more moments to look at everything on his desk and I can't help but feel like I'm going to be caught.

So I start talking again, “I wanted to know if I could go into town and get another dress next time you go?” The question seems to take him off guard by the way his eyebrows knit together in frustration, “Why?” He asks. Clearly, this is taking him off course, “Because I figured it would be nice to have something new for the banquet next weekend.” If there's one thing I love a lot, it's new clothes. So this isn't totally out of the ordinary for me and it's the only thing I can come up with on short notice. “No. Now get out.” He shot me down quick and I act like I'm disappointed, getting up and walking out. But just before I do, I hear my name. “Ophelia,” I turn to face him, feeling fear thump against my chest, “Don't ever come back in here again, or I'll make sure you can never use your hands again.” Staring at him for a moment longer, I nod and walk back upstairs until dinner time. That was too f*****g close.

Just before dinner is served, I do the same thing I did last time. Spike the food, pick a fight, and go up to my room. I make sure he's asleep before sneaking back down to the cellar and then head out from the cellar hatch doors and back into down. Going back to the same alley I was in before, I was right. The wolf found me with his pack.

“Got something for me princess?” Turning around to look at him, there's that nick name again. “I told you to stop calling me that.” Should I even bother trying? I wish I could smack that grin right off his face. “I'll call you whatever I want while you're in the north side. So did you get the information for me or do you have death wish?” This city is so quick to kill everyone and I don't understand why everyone has to be enemies. Why I am an enemy? Swallowing my frustration, he finally gets what he wants to hear. “The docks in Melbourne. You'll find them there. 10PM.” I must have done good, because he smiles at me, nodding, “Well done, Princess.” He begins to walk away and there's a familiar anger that boils in my chest, “Wait! Where are you going? You're supposed to give me information now!” They all stop and turn to look at me. “You'll get your information when I know yours is good.” He simply states before turning back around.

Part of me wants to scream. Part of me wants to cry. Either way, I feel lied to. “What? That wasn't the deal! You made a promise to me!” He continues to walk away from me and there's a jolt of anger that sparks my next move. Walking towards him, I grab his arm, “I'm talking to you!” I hiss, but my anger is short-lived. He spins around and growls grabbing me by the neck but not squeezing; more to guide me back. My back is pressed against the wall and the sudden shock of this whole situation strikes fear to my very core as I gasp, “You go to a store or to the coffee shop to buy something and you hand the cashier monopoly money. Is she going to take it? No. She's not. So until I know your information is good, I'm not telling you a damn thing.” He hisses, removing his hand but still keeping relatively close to me.

He must see how scared I am. How scared he makes me by being in such close proximity to me. Granted, he did just grab my neck, throwing me into a panic. He starts to back off a little, sighing like he feels bad. I stay where I am, pressed against the wall for fear of pissing him off with some little movement I make. “Listen. I plan to make good on my word. Alright?” Despite his efforts to lower his tone and what I assume is to calm me down out of the mild panic attack I'm spiraling into, it isn't working. But I calm down just enough to explain my situation, “I don't think you know just how much I risk coming out here. You of all people seem to know how my father is towards others and he's no different with me.” He stares at me for a moment in disbelief towards what I'm telling him. Lifting my shirt just a little, his eyes wander over the bruises to my ribs. I then, proceed to roll up my sleeves that hid the other bruises that riddle my arms while he just takes it all in.

The look in his eyes after that is something I can't really discern. He looks to his buddies, who just stare back at him, and then he looks back at me. “I'll find you. Don't worry about it.” He turns around and begins to walk away once more. Find me? Is he going to come to my house? That would be a death sentence for him, I'm sure. But whatever he may have meant, I'm not going to stop him again. I just want to go home and lay down. My heart is still pounding from the way he pushed me into the wall. So that's what I do. I go home.

Saturday came quickly. And now I'm sitting here, an hour past ten o'clock when my father's exchange down at the docks came. I'm scared shitless that something bad might have went down. Maybe not scared that something happened to my father, but scared that the wolf wouldn't survive whatever it is he planned to do with his information. Whether my fear is for selfish reasons or not, I can't seem to care right now. Not long after 11:30p.m., my father and a few of his men came back. Fewer than had left. I can hear my father cursing, talking about how 'this could have happened.' Curious, I walk out of my room and look down from the balcony, staring at my father who's bloody from head to toe, but seems otherwise unharmed. Some of his men, however, look like s**t.

“Dad?” I ask, walking down the stairs but keeping all eyes on them. “Go to bed, Ophelia.” He demands, pointing towards my bedroom. I don't argue. I don't rebel against him and do just what he told me to, thinking about what could have happened. The next morning, I overhear my father talking to some of the men about an attack that happened at the docks in Melbourne. How several of his men were killed and that some of the wolves that attacked were, too. My heart sinks for a moment, thinking about the fact that I may never know the truth now. Not unless I want to wander into some enemy territory or ask some random person what I am. S**t, I would just come off as crazy! Not to mention, not everyone can tell, I'm sure.

Several nights go by and my father left town on 'business'. Some of the guards are here with me to prevent me from leaving the house, but his staffing is depleted after the attack I guess. There's not as many here as there usually is when he leaves. It's close to midnight when I hear the noises that wake me. My window opening and someone stepping in. For a moment, it doesn't really register in my half-asleep state. Not until I feel someone's hand on my shoulder, bringing me to gasp with the instinct to scream when my eyes open. But just before I do, a hand clasps over my mouth, leaving me shocked. Who do I see? It's the wolf telling me to shush. In my f*****g bedroom. I grab his wrist and pull his hand away from my mouth, and huff, “What are you doing here? Are you crazy, wolf boy?!” I scold in an angry whisper. I sit up in my bed and he takes a seat on the edge with that same smug grin I've come to hate. “Did I scare you, Princess?” He whispers with snark. “You're not allowed to call me that here. I'm not in your part of town.” he laughs at my remark, “Fair enough.” He says, grinning.

Rubbing my face, I look at the clock to note what time it is before looking back at him, “You know my father has men downstairs. You're going to get yourself killed. How did you even know where I lived?” I'm asking all but the one question I want to ask, which is if he's going to give me the information I came looking for days ago. He tapped is nose, “I'm a wolf. I can track your scent. Besides, I'm not scared of your father's men. I wouldn't be here if I were.” Right.. That makes sense. “But to cut to the chase...” He began, reaching into the inside of his jacket, he hands me a tall, yellow envelope. “What's this?” I ask. I would have thought that he was just going to out-right tell me. He points to the envelope, “That's the information you want to know. I don't know what your mom is, but I know what your father is and you're half of him. That's all I know. I suggest you read the whole file.” File? He had an entire file about my father just lying around?

“It's Jack, by the way.” My current state of shock that I'm actually about to find out what I am didn't allow me to register that he just gave me his name. I've been calling him the wolf for so long, that I didn't think to ask. “Huh?” I ask, looking up from the file and back to him. “My name? It's Jack.” Jack repeats himself, keeping that grin on his face. “Oh. Right. Uhm... I'm sure you already know mine.” I begin to peel open the envelope, pulling the papers from it's sleeve and rummaging through the file. Skimming the information, I find the line about my father's lineage. His species... I can't speak. For a minute, I think my heart stops.

Holy S**t.

Author's Note

!!TRIGGER WARNING!! This book contains potential triggers in relation to abuse as well as some vulgar language. Please read with care. This is a project book that hasn't necessarily been reviewed for edits. It's a vent for myself. Ignore any grammar issues, but your critiques and thoughts are ALWAYS welcome! - Sorry for the cliff hanger. ;) #SorryNotSorry