Sharks in the Water (Leo x OC)

Introduction

June's POV

I stepped onto the sidewalk, lifting my hand to shield my eyes from the sun as I took in the giant building before me. 'Kingston Shipping' was spelled out in large letters over the entrance.

"Thanks Johnny." Johnathan Fischer, my father's assistant for as long as I could remember, the Alfred to my Robin.

"Of course." He shut the door, walking past me and towards the building. "Right this way."

. . .

Ding.

I stole a glance at Johnny, quickly turning my head back towards the floor. There were a few more lines on his forehead, the bags under his eyes a little deeper than the last time I had seen him.

Ding.

The floors of the elevator were so clean I could see my reflection on the floor. I stared at myself in the plain tile.

Ding.

How long was this gonna take?

Ding.

I wiped my hands on my pants, hoping to get rid of some of the sweat.

Ding.

Deep breaths. My hands subconsciously came together, my left grabbing the wrist of my right.

Ding.

The doors suddenly opened and I stepped out into the hall, following Johnny as he made his way through the minimalistic corridors of the highest floor.

And there it was, his office. Big wooden doors opened into what felt like a time capsule. Nothing had changed.

Windows overlooking New York lined the wall directly across from me. On both sides of the room were bookcases and black chairs, with coffee tables to complete the look. Directly in front of me was a large wooden desk, and behind it was my father, Alexander Kingston.

He stood up when he saw me, and I couldn't help but notice the gray in his neatly trimmed beard. For a moment I wondered if he noticed how much I had changed, too.

"Oh June, I'm sorry our reunion had to happen over such terrible circumstances." He pulled me into a hug, holding onto me as I loosely wrapped my arms around him.

"What happened?" I asked. He grabbed my shoulders, holding me at arm's length. He sighed, his tired eyes drifting to the floor.

"Before we start, I need to give you something."

Great. Another gift. My mind flashed to the dozen or so necklaces I had gotten from him over the years. Unfortunately, I was never big on jewelry. He might've known that if he ever talked to me.

His hand reached for the back pocket of his suit, pulling out a small box in silver wrapping paper.

"I found this at Grayson's house. After," he sighed, "well, you know." I looked from the box to his face. "I think it might've been a congratulatory gift for your promotion."

"Are you sure it's for me?"

"He had asked me for gift ideas for you a few weeks before he passed. Go ahead, open it."

I took the box, hands slightly shaking as I unwrapped it. It was a necklace. A small citrine crystal rested on a delicate silver chain.

I almost laughed. Another necklace. I guess neither of them knew me well. But it didn't matter. Now my brother didn't have a chance to get to know me.

I closed the box and walked over to the couch, taking a seat and putting it in my pocket. I couldn't bear to look at it anymore. Not right now.

"What-" I stopped, the word had barely been audible. I cleared my throat. "What happened to him?"

He took a deep breath before heading over to his desk and pulling out a crystal tumbler and a glass bottle full of whiskey. He poured himself a small cup, swirling the liquid around a few times and watching with heavy eyes before taking a swig.

"He was murdered."

"What? No he wasn't," I let out a nervous laugh and flashed my father a confused smile. He looked back at me with tired eyes, and I knew he wasn't lying. He wouldn't fly me out here for a sick joke.

"No he wasn't," I shook my head, but the reality of it had started to sink in. I fought back tears, and my vision started to blur.

"How?"

"He was pushed off of a roof."

I couldn't help but imagine how it would've felt to die like that. I had jumped off a bridge and into a river when I was younger, and the only way I could describe it was that you fell forever before hitting the water a second later.

I wondered if that was how it felt. Falling for what seemed like forever before hitting the concrete a second later. Feeling the pressure against your chest as you tried to breathe and your arms flailed.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get the image, the feeling, out of my head.

"Who did it? Why?" My words were slightly garbled, faint.

"Lowlife pieces of shit. Some idiots who think that stuff should be handed out for free. They targeted a few big business owners. Hard workers, like us. Grayson got caught up in it all." He scoffed, finishing his drink. "They were led by the daughter of one of our biggest competitors."

I paused, taken aback by the first part of what he had said. I had forgotten why we never got along. I took a deep breath, clearing my throat.

"If they're so against big business, why would they team up with her?" For a moment I almost rooted for them. I had always hated how my father ran his company. It felt wrong having so much money while his employees weren't making much, and that was always a point of contention.

But we weren't talking about that. We were talking about my brother's murderer.

"We think she was targeting her father's company, too. The night Grayson was murdered was also the same night that her family's company went out of business. Her father and sister went missing."

I sat there, trying to take it all in. Who could do something like that? Not even from a moral point of view, but a practical one. How could that happen? I sat there, trying not to think too hard about it. About how many people she had probably killed.

"We think they're still targeting us." I could hear him open a desk drawer, and a rustling noise caught my attention. I looked over, watching as he grabbed a few photos from a file and threw them onto the desk with a scowl.

I got up, hesitantly heading over to look at what it was. What if they were photos of Grayson on the pavement? At least, what would have been left of him. My stomach flipped at the thought.

"What is this?" Photos of a trashed warehouse littered the desk. Graffiti, broken locks, crushed crates, and, was that a person? No, people. I picked one of the photos up, brow furrowed as I scanned the background. The main focus was on a broken lock on an opened door, but part of the inside of the warehouse could be seen. And on the floor were bodies. I looked through the pile before quickly finding another photo.

I sharply inhaled. It was a picture of a man laying on the ground, bruises everywhere. His face and hands were covered in cuts, and a small puddle of blood had pooled around his head.

"Is he-?" I trailed off.

My dad nodded.

I looked back down at the photo before setting it onto the desk. I didn't want to look at them anymore.

"They recently attacked one of our warehouses. We think they'll do it again." He paused, looking at me. "I want you to stay with me for a while. At least until we've brought them to justice."

I nodded. It only made sense for me to stay where I could be kept safe. My dad and I may not agree on a lot of things but losing a child would be hard on anyone. I could at least stay to give him some peace of mind and maybe even help take these people down in the process.

I became hyper aware of the small box in my pocket and clenched my jaw. It's the least I could do for my brother.