Chapter Twenty-Five

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People think of anger as heat

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People think of anger as heat. That rage burns. But time alters fury - the flames turn to something jagged, something cold. Time makes anger burn like ice not fire. So slowly, I stand and I stare at him -  a thousand words ready to spill from my lips but there's only silence. 

It takes a moment for the emotions to settle. For the storm in me to calm into something under my control. In that time, the smile drops from his lips.

"Is that all you have to say? Hi?" He runs a hand across his face.

"What are you doing here? You don't need me to tell you it isn't safe." He glances back to the window, his eyes narrowing with worry. "How did you find me?"

I shrug, folding my arms across my chest. My hands are burning from where I scraped them, my ankle aches. The sun has barely risen and my body already feels spent.

"Photos. You always took them of the canal, I never really noticed. There's some on my wall, one in your flat... one in Davey Taggart's office..."

His eyes widen, his jaw drops and he rushes forward. He grips my arms and scans me.

"What the hell, Calla? You went to Taggart? Are you OK? What happened?"

I yank myself out of his grasp and he flinches a little. I move back, till I'm pressed against the wall. I see hurt in his eyes but I don't care. In fact, I'm glad.

"I didn't get a lot of say in it. It was Leon. He'd been following me, he took me to meet your dad..." Owen's eyes darken, his body tenses but I don't drop my gaze.

"That man isn't my dad." I laugh, and sink back on the settee, putting my head in hands. 

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Because..."

"Because you're in denial? Got it."

Owen exhales and then drops to the ground. Kneeling on his haunches before me.

"My dad... not Davey... worked for him. He used to grow weed and anything else they could in these warehouses. I used to spend a lot of time here. He was a good dad, and I never understood why he left... but Mum let slip when she was high once. She cheated on him, he found out and he left. I was never his son. I'm not stupid, Calla. I think I always knew why Davey took an interest in me. You shouldn't have got caught up in all this, I didn't want that."

"Then why message me? You started this, you must have known what I'd do," I hiss.

He smiles again, and I turn away before some of the ice can melt. I don't want him to have any impact on me. To have any sway over my heart but he still does. And I hate it.

"I don't care what anyone thinks of me. I never have. Only you. And no, I didn't know you'd do all this, but I should have guessed."

He leans forward, his hands on either side of me on the settee. He lowers his head till we're nearly touching but I don't move away.

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