"They're Back"
1227 Words
Skylar Xylon
The room felt colder after his words. “You’re old enough now. You deserve the truth.”
I stood there, heart pounding, surrounded by weapons I didn’t understand, wondering what my dad was about to tell me.
He exhaled slowly, eyes locked on mine. “Skylar… I’m not who you think I am.”
My stomach dropped. Oh God! Was he a wanted criminal?
“I don’t work in oil. Or maintenance. Or whatever cover story we used last time.”
No kidding.
“I used to work for a private task force,” he continued. “Part of a… classified government program. We tracked down and neutralized people the rest of the world pretended didn’t exist.”
I blinked. “Like what, terrorists?”
He hesitated and then shook his head. “Yeah. Terrorists, Traffickers. Arms dealers. Murderers who disappeared into new names and new cities. The ones too dangerous to let live.”
I stared at him.
He looked tired. Honest. Worn.
“You were a hitman?”
“I was a hunter,” he said simply. “We didn’t work in the light. We didn’t make arrests. We ended threats. Quietly.”
The silence between us was deafening.
He paused, looking around the hidden room. “I keep this stuff not because I need it, but because I don’t know how to stop looking over my shoulder. It’s what happens when you chase dangerous people”
“And all the moving and the garlic?” I asked.
“The garlic” he sighed “You’d be surprised what people believe when they’re scared. When I was working in the field, we used garlic in psychological warfare. It’s an old tactic — scent association. Some traffickers believed it warded off spirits or brought protection, so we’d coat doors or wear it to confuse them. It sounds crazy, but it worked.”
He looked me dead in the eye. “People believe a lot of crazy things in this world, Skylar. And sometimes… they’re not so crazy.”
“As for all the moving, when you chase dangerous people, you’re bound to make enemies, Skylar. One of them found us. After your mother—” He stopped short. His throat bobbed. “After we lost her, I knew I had to keep you off the radar. No phones. No social media. New towns. I had to protect you.”
My pulse kicked and my eyes teared up. He told me my mom died giving birth to me. “One of them killed mom?”
He blinked back tears. “I can’t bear to lose you too. You’re all I have”
I closed the gap between us rushing into his arms. He sniffed and wrapped his hands around me.
Something in his voice cracked, and for the first time, I saw more than the paranoia.
I saw fear.
And guilt.
And love.
I nodded slowly, feeling the tension in my chest loosen just enough to breathe.
God, I’ve been such a terrible daughter. All the rules he gave were for my protection and I was down right disobeying
He ran a hand through his hair and gave a small, weary smile. “I know I’ve been overprotective. I just… I can’t lose you too.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For everything.
I’m not grounding you anymore,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“I get it. You need to have a life. You want to make friends. See people. I don’t want to lock you in a box.”
I blinked, stunned.
“But,” he added sharply, “from now on, you tell me everywhere you go. You check in every few hours. And you always carry your garlic oil.”
I laughed and nodded. “Fair enough”
He kissed my forehead and led me out of the room and closed the door
We sat on the couch after that. No more secrets. He made tea.
Then the TV, still on in the background, flickered and the local news reporter’s voice snapped us both back to reality.
“We interrupt this program with breaking news out of Glen Valley—”
My dad turned the volume up.
“Three teens were found unconscious and two others dead in Hollow Ridge Woods late last night, covered in lacerations and puncture wounds. The victims claim they don’t remember how they got there or what attacked them.”
Fuck.
That was where I was last night.
The screen showed a shaky video clip — flashing lights, yellow tape, kids being wheeled into ambulances.
“The victims’ blood loss was extreme, baffling forensic teams. Officials believe it may have been a wild animal attack. Possibly a coyote. However, the bite patterns are inconsistent with known species—”
Click.
My dad turned off the TV.
His face had gone pale.
“It can’t be…” I heard him mutter under his breath
He stood slowly. Stiffly. Like a soldier hearing an alarm that hadn’t sounded in years.
“Dad?” I stood too. “What’s going on?”
He didn’t answer.
He walked to the hallway, typed something into the keypad near the front door. Locked it. Double checked the back window. Then returned to me.
“Do you see why I always keep you hidden?” His voice was slightly raised as he pointed at the TV
I sunk my head
“Whatever is out there could have gotten you and you’d unconscious or worse dead and I don’t know if I would ever forgive myself” he breathed, a look of fear taking over his face
I’m sorry, Dad,” I whispered, my throat tightening.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stared at the blank TV screen, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling with barely contained panic.
I’d never seen him like this before. Not when we packed up in the middle of the night to move. Not when he caught me sneaking out.
This was different.
He rubbed his hands down his face like he was trying to wake himself from a nightmare.
“I need you to be careful,” he said quietly. “From now on, no going out at night. Ever. No parties. No detours. And you don’t open this door for anyone unless it’s me.”
“I thought I wasn’t grounded,” I joked softly, trying to ease the tension.
His eyes snapped to mine.
“This isn’t about grounding. This is about survival.”
I shut up instantly.
He got up and walked toward the hallway. “Go upstairs. I’ll check on you in a bit.”
“Okay,” I murmured, backing away slowly.
As I turned to head upstairs, I paused when I saw him taking a burner phone out of the drawer. I crept up a few more stairs, then crouched near the railing, just barely able to see him through the sliver of space.
He punched in a number from memory, then lifted it to his ear.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then a low voice answered on the other end, distorted and gravelly. I couldn’t make out what it said.
My dad didn’t waste time. He gave one message “They’re back.”.
Back? Who the hell was back?
- Writer
