six ◌ anti

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The Flip Side bakery was completely empty. It was dirty, disheveled, and filled with graffiti. The innocuous corner shop that stood next to a Soul Cycle gym in the Arts District of Los Angeles, was my mother's greatest dream. For years, all she could imagine and talk about involved opening her own bakery. Kat and I were finally old enough to take care of ourselves, and my dad's business blossomed tremendously. Mom had the time, dad had the money, and before we knew it, a set of silver keys were dropped into the palm of her hand.

"It smells funky in here," Kat was the first to comment. As a family, we strolled into the dreary building with wide eyes and dropped jaws.

"The odor will subside once I've cleaned the place," mom chuckled. Her face glowed with excitement— nothing could bring her down. "Soon, it'll smell like irresistible pastries and high quality coffee."

"What do you envision?" I asked her. Admittedly, I only asked to be courteous, because to be honest, it was hard to picture a trendy cafe in the dump we were standing in.

Mom beamed enthusiastically, "well here," she waved both her arms animatedly in front of a blank wall beneath a curved archway. "This is where the registers will be. The counters will be made of spiraled marble. And next to it, will be glass displays of our baked goods."

"Please tell me you'll be including the Langka cupcake to the menu," dad chimed in, the grin on his face gradually growing.

(translation: jackfruit)

"Of course!" Mom chirped, approaching her husband and pulling him into a hug. "I already have a name for it: The Julius Select. It'll be one of our top-billed menu items, named after the man who bought me my dreams!"

"Hindi," dad held mom at arms length, his hands resting on her shoulders. "I only bought the building, but you're creating your dreams."

(translation: no)

"Like our girls one day," mom brandished out an arm, prompting both Kat and I fall into her warm chest. She always smelled like lavender and fresh dough. "You two will always be the greatest dream achieved, and this bakery will be the greatest dream to chase. Never give up on yours, okay?"

"Yes, mommy," Kat hummed.

"Of course. I love you, mom."

My dream was so realistic, it convinced my mind that the images developed during REM, was authentic. When I slowly regained consciousness, only warmth encapsulated my body, similar to my mother's hug. My lips lifted into a small smile, expecting to be wrapped in my mom's arms, but when my eyelids peeled open, I was alone.

The soft glow of the lamp next to me illuminated the room to an extent, but from what I could tell, I was in a makeshift hospital room. Against the wall, opposite of where I lay, was a long, metallic table. Atop it, were miscellaneous medical supplies. Methodical beeping infiltrated my ears from the left side of the room where I found an IV bag hanging from a pole. Attached to my inner elbow was a thin plastic tube, and the area where my arm was shot, had been bundled in heavy duty bandages.

"It's them, I'm positive."

"How do you even know? This guy didn't even leave a name."

"I know ANTI's patterns. It's them. I just don't know who hired them."

Stern voices peaked my interest and jumpstarted my senses. Even though my skull throbbed and my muscles felt like they were on fire, I couldn't resist an attempt at amateur espionage. There were still questions that have yet to be answered, and my gut was telling me that no one was going to reveal the truth anytime soon. So with careful movements, I lifted the wool blanked off of my body and swung my legs off of the bed.

Letting out a groan brimming with pain, I stood on my two feet with a distorted expression painted upon my face. I kept still for a few moments, recalibrating my equilibrium before taking my first step. I pulled the IV-pole along with me, creeping towards the slightly agape door. I pushed the barricade wider, meeting a dark hallway. The faint light I noticed came from below, and silently, I inched myself towards the catwalk. I crouched down, hiding in the shadows of the corridor as I listened in on their conversation.

"I need a fucking explanation. Who the hell am I actually working for?" Harry was without a doubt, fuming. He, along with Liam and Professor Dela Cruz, stood around a table. Laptops, phones, and folders of paperwork were messily sprawled across the piece of furniture— it looked like something out of a spy movie.

"Look, Harry, I am sorry you got mixed up in this, but this is the first and only time," Professor Dela Cruz assured, sending Harry an apologetic frown. "You can go home. We can take it from here."

"Not until you explain to me why I'm mixed up in this," Harry insisted.

"Kitson, listen to Dela Cruz," Liam stepped in with a stern command. "The less you know, the better. Go home and sleep it off."

"In case you forgot, I was the one who picked up Tasha. I the one who had her bleeding to death in my car. I don't even know how you knew she was in trouble," Harry angrily mentioned. "To top it all off, she gets this freaky phone call from some British psycho who has Tasha's sister, and is threatening to kill their father. I was hired to keep an eye on both Tasha and Kat, so I think I have the right to know what the fuck is going on!"

Hold on.

Back up.

Rewind.

Harry was hired to keep tabs on my sister and I? This definitely was the revelation of the year, which explained Harry's odd behavior in the car earlier. He showed up at just the right time, he skipped the hospital, knew how to maneuver a car like Fast and Furious, and came straight to this swanky home in Brentwood, LA.

"You were hired to follow commands with no questions asked," Liam corrected, pointing a sturdy finger towards Harry.

"Fuck off Payne," Harry slapped Liam's finger from across the table.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" A deep, alarming voice boomed through out the house, startling me in the process.

I jumped out of my skin, as did Liam and Harry. While I didn't expect an authoritative voice to infiltrate our ears, what I absolutely did not foresee, was the person it belonged to. Standing right next to me was Hex. His eyes were gazing down at me, as I stared back at him with surprise dripping from my face.

"You have company," Hex informed. The three men on the floor below all cocked their heads in curiosity, which was my cue to emerge from the shadows.

"Hi," I softly spoke, showing myself to the team.

"Tasha, anak, what are you doing out of bed? You should be getting rest," Professor Dela Cruz advised with worry in his voice.

(translation: child, dear)

"I heard your conversation," I began. "I just wanted answers."

"How much did you hear?" Professor Dela Cruz stepped forward, tilting his head back to look up at me.

"Harry was hired to look after Kat and I. Which he kind of failed at," I haphazardly blurted. "I want to know what's going on."

"In the morning," Professor Dela Cruz protested. "You're far too weak, and it's a lot of overwhelming information."

An unamused chuckle left my lips, as I shook my head with disapproval. I didn't mean to be rude, my parents raised me better than to disrespect my elders, but Professor Dela Cruz's statement only ignited disgust within me.

"I watched my mother fall to her death. I fought two men down a stairwell, got shot in the arm, and the bad guys still adducted my sister," I testified coolly, leaning over the wooden railing. "There's nothing I can't handle right now."

Silence permeated the space as the focus from each person in the room shifted. It felt like the four dudes were mentally speaking to each other, arguing without words and I wished I had the ability to read minds.

"Hector, please help her downstairs," Professor Dela Cruz sighed, surrendering to my previous quip.

Hex unhooked the IV bag from the pole and handed me the plastic pouch. I firmly grasped the medicine before he lifted me off the ground with ease, cradling me in his arms.

"Your name is Hector?" I raised a brow at the man I've known for twelve years, mind blown that his official first name was Hector.

"Don't," he cautioned bitterly, casting a warning glare in my direction.

I didn't utter another word about the subject, and instead kept my mouth shut as Hex carried me down the grand staircase. When we reached ground level, and my feet were planted firmly on the ground, I followed Hex through the Mediterranean style mansion. In what looked to be a formal dining room, waited Professor, Liam, and Harry. Hex pulled out a cushioned chair for me, and motioned that I sit in it. Still feeling quite dizzy, I took the suggestion and sat down.

"Okay, let's start with the basics," I initiated, surveying the scene before me. "Who shot me, why was I shot, and how did you know I needed help? I don't believe Harry was in my neighborhood by coincidence."

"We don't know specifically who shot you, but we believe that the man who did, works for a secret intelligence group called ANTI. It is an acronym for Agency of Neo Tactical Insurgents," Professor informed.

He grabbed an iPad off of the table and pressed a button. This maneuver controlled the big screen attached to the wall adjacent to us. It lit up, displaying scans of official documents. Upon those documents, I noticed an insignia on every piece. The symbol that embellished these papers, was the same ornate tattoo on the men who took my sister.

"That symbol," Harry pointed to the screen, wonder dancing in his eyes. "What does it mean? Is it their sign?"

Professor nodded, using the iPad to enlarge the image, "this intricate Mandala is the symbol of ANTI. I believe everyone who works for the organization is branded with the insignia."

Harry didn't vocally reply to the information. He just melted into his prior position at the back of the room.

"Who are the people behind ANTI? What do they want?" I questioned.

"ANTI is comprised of former agents that span worldwide," Liam was next to step forward. "From the FBI, CIA, and other international organizations, these people are highly skilled, highly intelligent, and highly dangerous. They were all fired from their respective agencies, and now work for this rogue bureau."

"The founder of this organization is unknown," Professor enlightened. "They are hired on a case by case basis via black market, ciphers, and word of mouth. They have assigned leaders to make sure whatever the client wants, gets."

"So you're saying that a group of smart ass delinquents shot me, killed my mom, and took my sister because someone hired them to do so?"

I couldn't even get a text back, and yet some corrupt person has gained the loyalty of a whole group to do their evil bidding. I tried to wrap my brain around the concepts they were trying to explain, but it seemed so far fetched to me. These kind of situations only happened in movies, or in the royal family. Not, regular teens living in Los Angeles.

"Basically, yea," Liam nodded.

I found it unsettling to see Liam actually look worried. Not too long ago was he yelling in my face for attempting to pull the 'I'm a girl' card, and kick my ass at the same time. When I swiped my attention over to Harry, who stood at the back of the room with his shoulder leaning against the wall, I tried to examine him. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't read him, which meant I still couldn't give him my trust.

"ANTI wants my father dead, why?" My questioned sparked the interest of Harry, because he lifted himself off of the wall and took a step forward. I only mentioned this fact because I assumed Harry told them about the phone call.

"ANTI doesn't want your father dead," Professor Dela Cruz clarified. "Whoever hired them does, and I don't know why. Once we figure out who's behind the attack, we can narrow down this person's motive."

"Another question," I held up a finger. "How the hell did you know that I was in trouble."

"When you were shot in the arm, did your shooter stick his finger into the wound?" Professor Dela Cruz turned the tables, and questioned me for a change.

I nodded my head.

"You had a tracking device in your arm that's been installed since you were a child," he disclosed. "I received an alarm that it suddenly deactivated. So I sent Harry to check on you."

My mind flashed back to Kat, and how I noticed her left arm was bleeding in the same area of where I was shot. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but now, I didn't believe much in them. ANTI had Kat, took her tracker out, and demolished any solid chance of finding her.

"Dela Cruz and Hex had to do minor surgery to take out the bullet," Liam updated.

"I remember losing a lot of blood," I rasped. "How am I still alive?"

"Blood transfusion," Liam simply answered.

"You just happen to have a supply of O-negative blood lying around? Who are you? The Twilight vampires?" I scoffed.

Professor softly chuckled, shaking his head, "we know someone who does and was willing to donate."

"Who?"

"Niall."

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» author's note «

Just a glimpse of who's behind the Aquino Family attacks. In future chapters, you'll find out more about ANTI & the reason why Tasha's dad is the target.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter even though it's more of an informational one. But it's important info that will later be developed!

Please don't be a silent reader & do vote for this chapter if you dig it. Also, leave me comments with your opinions, theories, feedback, etc. Thank you for checking out my story!!

PSA: I have a reading list on my page called "Helpful Resources" and it's filled with amazing books dedicated to helping Wattpad authors! Everything from Character Development, Plot Devices, Book Cover Tips, Writing POC, and more! Check it out if you need some help / advice on writing your story :)