The dead grass crunches under our feet as I follow Owen through the maze of derelict warehouses, the area almost in total blackness. In the distance, I can see cranes rising above us as tall as skyscrapers. I hear the rhythmic sound of the waves as we get closer to the port. He seems to know exactly where we're going, even in the blackness of the night. There's a chill to the air, a tang on the wind that only comes from being by the sea. A few of Taggart's men loiter about as walk up the path leading away from the buildings and closer to the water.
I have never been here before. Glancing around, I can see across the water the parts of the port that are used - they're packed with shiny storage containers and large ships. But right now they're in darkness. This side of the port is abandoned - rusting and faded with neglect.
Owen's body is tense, his face an intimidating mask. As we walk towards the edge, I can see more men. They're loading boxes off a boat and into the warehouse. It's just as black here, lit by only a few lights coming from the boat and inside the warehouse. The moon reflects on the dark, oily water. They're moving quickly and quietly enough that I know whatever happening here is illegal on various levels.
The boat looks like some small leisure yacht. My stomach hardens at the sight of it. Once they've finished unloading, it will sail away and take Owen with it. Looking at it makes me tighten my grip on his hand. Taggart is standing before the boat, wearing a thick woollen coat, his hands gripping his collar, simply watching the dozens of men as they unload the boxes. The icy air is burning my cheeks. Steam billows before my lips. Owen stops sharply and turns to me, his eyes searching. Asking without words that I'm still OK. I nod weakly and then he leads me towards Taggart.
"Hey," Owen's voice is lower, gruffer than usual. I can hear something cautious in the tone. To an outsider, he might look calm, but I can feel the tension in his grip. Davey turns to him, smiling broadly at his son. Seeing them together is unnerving. The same hair, same intense eyes, similar build. Taggart moves forward. He slaps Owen on the back, pulling him away from me and into an awkward embrace.
"I'm sorry, boy." His voice is low, grit-rough, but I can hear the emotion carried in the three words. Owen flinches but pulls away as soon as he can. I can see the conflict on his face, though. He swallows hard. "I wasn't sure you were going to come."
"I'm here, aren't I?" He bites. But Davey doesn't look offended. He merely nods. "And I'm out of options."
"We'll get you out of here, away from Alex. I'm going to take care of you." Owen peers at him, his face fighting a sneer. I can see his jaw clench, his temper flaring. The tension between is thick, like the air before a storm.
"You better," I say, needing to cut the tension before Owen's fragile grip on his temper finally snaps. Taggart laughs, his bellow filling the empty space. Owen glances down at me. We need Taggart, and he might hate it but I can see in his eyes that he knows it. Taggart steps towards me looking down at me, his eyes filled lost in the past once more.
"I bet when you say things like that people just smile at you, think it's just words. Empty, nothing behind them. But you're a Pierce, through and through. I can see it. You'd make sure I'd pay wouldn't you, darling?" I roll my eyes and purse my lips. But then I meet his eye, hold his gaze and nod. He might be teasing, but that doesn't mean he doesn't mean every word. "You found him. Just as I knew you would. Thank you."
"Is it true? About you and Calla's dad?"
"Yes," he responds simply. His eyes back on his son's. Owen nods and looks away, his eyes lingering on the boat. I reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly. He smiles sadly down at me, before tearing his gaze back to his dad.
"So this is all about you. Nothing to do with me, nothing to do with Damien." Taggart says nothing. I get the impression he doesn't really understand what Owen means. The world exists to please Taggart, we are merely shadows cast by his light. Inconsequential. "You swear you don't know anything? About Damien?" Taggart shakes his head.
"No. I can't help you with that. This is how I help you. By getting you away from here. Maybe one day she can join you..." He smiles whimsically, and I wonder if that's his plan all along. If he has Owen then he has me, and if he has me, he has a direct link to my dad. Taggart is looking at him fondly, but the stern expression on Owen's face doesn't drop. Taggart puts a hand on my shoulder and I try not to jerk away.
"Look at the pair of you. I knew it. I knew one way or another..." He shakes his head, laughing. "Some things don't end after goodbye..." He whispers, more to himself than us.
"So she's his daughter, that means something. You're going to watch out for her, right?" It's not really a question, more a demand. Davey's gaze moves from me to Owen and he still smiles that unnerving smile. His hands goes back to gripping his collar.
"I gave you my word, didn't I?"
"And Leon?"
"What about Leon?" A weaker voice calls. We all turn, and he's standing there, slinking out from the shadows between two warehouses like the rodent that he is. Leon looks... wrong. Sweat is dotted across his marble-grey forehead. His eyes are diluted and wide.
"Look what the tide dragged in." Davey sniggers, looking no more bothered by Leon's presence than the ocean breeze. Owen steps closer in a move so subtle I barely notice at first, then discreetly moves in front of me. He reaches behind and tugs me close against his back. Leon steps forward. Around us, the men by the warehouse stop. I can see them all watching Leon. Their bodies stiff. Getting ready to move, but Davey nods discreetly and they go back to work.
Taggart steps forward, putting himself between us and Leon. I can see Owen frown when he realises. His body is a wall of tension in front of me.
"Why didn't I know about this? Why is nobody... you ghosting me, boss?" His voice cracks.
Taggart laughs, throwing his head back.
"Awww, I'm flattered, mate, but this was business. I told you to leave the boy alone, and you didn't. And let's not pretend. Let's not keep this pretense up... a little birdy has been whispering, little whispers to the police about me. To Steele about me. You didn't think you could hide that from me, did you?"
There's something theatrical about Taggart's movements. He steps forward, dragging Leon's eyeline with him. Owen takes a step away, leading me with him. I know what he's doing, he trying to lead us away from the water. The cold air suddenly tastes metallic, like I can taste the tension on my tongue.
Leon freezes, his eyes narrowing. Taggart's smile gets hungry. Wolfish.
"You were going to leave, sell up and leave it all to the boy! You were going to leave me with nothing! It should have been mine. Everything I've done for you and you were going to give it to the kid!" Leon yells. There's something unhinged about his voice, his waving arms. Like a child losing control during a tantrum.
"We both know you don't have it in you to run things. Owen's young, but he's smart and more importantly... he's my son!" He roars his last words, making everyone, including Leon, flinch. "My son!"
Leon whimpers, stepping back. Taggart draws himself up, and I gasp. His eyes flash with malice, his fists are clenched. But what shocks me isn't his rage but the flicker of amusement that sparks in his eyes. He is capable of terrible things, and he would enjoy every single one of them. I have understood why people fear Taggart, but I never truly understood why they were terrified of him. I do now.
"You've been plotting, little rat. Behind my back. I think it's time you see what happens when people go against me."
The men around us move closer, but Leon pulls a gun from his pocket. His hand is shaking as he waves it in the air, aiming at Taggart. The men around slow down but don't stop creeping towards Leon. Taggart looks merely disappointed like Leon has spoiled his fun.
"They're coming. The police are coming. I knew you'd kill me. I knew one way or another it was over. And I know you won't think about me, not once after you kill me. But I think you might think about him. So I thought... I thought I'd take him with me." He doesn't wait. He shifts his aim from Taggart to Owen.
Everything in my body seizes. I can see what's happening, but there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Everything is a jumble of flashes. All at once, like pieces of a puzzle, I can't make out the full picture in chaos. I'm behind Owen, gripping his jacket, screaming his name. The gun goes off. The men all rush at Leon. Owen twists and shoves me down. Taggart launches himself at Leon. He has him down on the ground in a moment. Punches raining down on him. The gun fires again and again.
There are sirens in the air. The dark night is drowned out with flashes of blue light. I hear the roar of the engine as the boat speeds away into the night. Owen's escape, leaving him behind. I'm struggling to breathe - Owen has knocked the air from my lungs. My body aches from the blow. I hear yells, the sound of flesh pounding flesh.
And then I feel the wetness on my cheeks, my device digging uncomfortably into my ribs. I squirm, feeling the weight of Owen's body on me. Through a gap between his shoulder and arm, I see the men struggling to pull Leon off Taggart. Leon's body is limp. His bloody form is lifeless.
I try to move, but Owen is still pressing down on me.
"Owen? Owen, I can't..." And then I feel it, a warm slickness on my neck and cheek. I run my hand across my face. When I pull it away, all I see is red. And Owen isn't moving. His body is still.