Chapter Two: Who Are We Hunting?

Truck's POV

*TWO WEEKS BEFORE*

Snap!

My heel crunched on a twig and it echoed throughout the forest. Silently, I cursed at myself for being clumsy. Ahead of me, my dad threw an annoyed look over his shoulder before continuing on through the dense forest foliage. I released the breath I didn't know I had been holding. I knew how important this was to my family. Uncle Tom's death shan't be in vain. That was his only dying wish- well, that and to keep Kya and Thomas safe.

Thomas bumped into me and I threw a concerned look over my shoulder at him. This was his first time coming with us. In a way I felt sorry for him because he had no idea what or who he was up against. But reasoning with my dad was similar to conversing with a brick wall. It was either his way or the highway. Thomas was just a kid, he didn't need to see what we did. At least not yet. I exhaled and continued on.

We were silent, our eyes trained ahead and our hearing amped up, thanks to Dad's ultra hearing device. He had it made just before Uncle Tom died, a creation he was super proud of. A faint howl sounded in the distance. Dad's face whipped around, his knowing eyes scanned my face and Thomas'. He put a finger up to his dry, cracked lips. Motioning for us to be extremely careful and quiet, he trekked on.

We continued on in that similar fashion, though the thick trees shaded most of the sunlight, the heat was still unbearable. Sweat poured off of my face as if it were water. My throat was parched and I wished Dad had chosen to do this at our usual time- midnight. But, he was stubborn. Insisting that we would be more successful this time around in the day. Yeah, right.

Uncle Tom and my Dad had been super close. I watched, from afar, as the sudden death shattered Dad completely and tried at his sanity. Dad was too proud to ask anyone for help and with just me and him- well, you guess how things turned out for him. He barely ate and whenever he spoke it was no more than a handful of words. I was worried about him. Worried that he wouldn't have been able to bounce back from all of this.

And then he defied all odds, he woke up one day, ate a full meal and carried on as he had before the death.

Only this time around he wasn't the affectionate person I grew up with. He grew cold, distant even. Nothing anyone did for him pleased or satisfied him. He became even more obsessed with avenging his brother's death. No stone was left unturned. He ran around town like a mad person accusing whoever would listen of his brother's death and overtime he earned the nickname "Maddox" a play on words of his actual name. I sighed, there was no stopping my father. I learnt that the hard way after one such trip as this. I also learnt how to stay out of his life and personal business.

Ahead of us, my dad let out some sort of victory yell. Thomas and I sprinted over to Dad. Our eyes bulged as I realized what Dad was so happy about. Hanging from a net attached to a tree branch was a young man shivering and naked. The weather was scorching and it was the middle of the day. Our eyes connected and I could feel just how sick he was.

"Dad," I started up. Dad's cold eyes met with mine and I quickly shut my mouth.

Dad beckoned for Thomas to step forward. Gingerly, Thomas did so.

Dad's voice held a hint of excitement in them. "Now, Tommy, this here is what they call an Omega. The lone wolf exiled either by choice or force." He waved his hand around. "We don't care much for that part," he continued. "I brought you here today so you can see what me and Truck do." Tommy's eyes widened when he saw Dad unsheathed a silver sword from his waist. Dad circled the net, fake lunging the knife at the terrified man. Tears streamed down his face and like the cruel man, my dad had become, he threw his head back and laughed.

Dad sobered up and called Thomas over to the net. Thomas took small steps forward, his breathing became shorter and more shallow with each step. What was Dad doing?

Dad reached for Thomas' left palm and slowly pressed the knife inside his outstretched hand. Dad made a fake bow. "Will you do me the honors, Sir Thomas?"

I swallowed and so did Thomas. His hands shook and his legs wobbled. He dropped the knife and the look Dad shared with him had him scampering for the metal cutting tool. "Do it now before I cut you," Dad threatened in a no nonsense tone. I had no doubt that Dad would have done exactly what he just said.

I stepped forward. I had done this plenty of times. I didn't see the need to get poor Thomas involved.

Dad saw what I was about to do and called me out. "Truck, if you so much as…" He left his sentence unsaid. Like the coward I was, I took a step back.

Dad released the net and the young man tumbled out of the net, immediately falling to his knees, begging for his life. I looked away. This was always the hardest part for me. Dad instructed Thomas how to make a clean cut. Dad made a swishing cut through the air. "I want you to cut his head off," Dad told Thomas.

Wincing his eyes shut, Thomas tried to mimic the cut earlier that Dad had shown him. The young man fell to the ground, screaming in pain. His blood decorated the dead leaves scattered on the floor of the forest. "Fool!" Dad hissed out. Thomas opened his eyes, there was some relief in his eyes when he found out that he had only made a slice across the man's face.

Dad took the knife from Thomas' clammy hands and made a clean sweep. A head rolled over towards a distant tree stump. I looked away while Thomas brought up the breakfast he had ate earlier. Poor kid.

To take my mind off of what I had just seen, I thought of Gem's beautiful face, but not even her could make what we just did vanish. It was so real and vivid.

By standing there, looking on, I realized that I felt nothing. Did this mean I was becoming like my Dad? Cold and emotionless?

What a perfect way to spend your lunch time on a Tuesday.