Page 21 of The Last Morgan

The door clicked shut behind Corey and Damian, leaving the room heavy with silence.

Lucy turned slowly, her heart hammering as she faced Byron.

He stood there, arms folded across his broad chest, grey eyes pinned on her. He was beautiful in a brutal, dangerous way.

"What is it?" he asked roughly. "Why did you need me to—"

He didn't finish.

Lucy was already moving, crossing the room in three strides, grabbing the front of his jacket and dragging him down to meet her mouth.

Their lips crashed together — messy, desperate and hungry.

Byron stiffened for a heartbeat — then growled low in his throat, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off her feet like she weighed nothing.

Lucy gasped into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his thick, wild hair as he carried her to the bed.

He set her down like she was something precious — even as his body trembled with restraint.

"This isn't how I wanted our first time to be," Byron

Spoke gently against her lips. "But who am I to stop you?"

His jacket hit the floor.

Lucy reached for the hem of his shirt, dragging it up and over his head.

Byron's body was a masterpiece of violence — hard muscle wrapped around old scars and ink, his arms thick, veins running up his forearms, his chest broad enough to shield her from anything.

A dangerous, living weapon. And he was looking at her like she was the only thing he'd ever fight for.

Byron reached for her tactical top, his hands slow, almost reverent.

He peeled it away, baring her flushed skin, her breasts exposed and heavy, her nipples already peaked with anticipation.

His grey eyes darkened "Fuck, Lucy," he whispered, almost broken.

He traced her skin with trembling fingers, barely touching, almost worshipping.

Lucy whimpered, arching into his hands.

Byron let out a soft, pained groan as he leaned down, his mouth capturing one tight nipple, sucking gently, licking and biting just enough to make her squirm.

"You're going to kill me," he growled against her breast.

He kissed down her stomach, fingers sliding under her pants, dragging them down along with her panties, exposing her completely.

Lucy flushed under the intensity of his gaze.

Byron knelt between her thighs, hands spreading her open.

"So fucking perfect," he murmured.

He dipped his head and flicked his tongue against her clit.

Lucy gasped, clutching at the sheets, arching off the bed.

He licked her slowly, lazily, savoring every shudder, every moan that spilled from her lips.

When she was writhing, trembling on the edge, he pulled back.

She whimpered, reaching for him.

"Byron, please—"

He smirked darkly.

Finally, Byron stood, kicking off his boots and stripping the rest of the way.

Lucy’s mouth went dry.

He was thick and hard, heavy against his stomach, the sight of him made her ache in places she didn’t know could ache.

He crawled back over her, caging her body with his.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Lucy nodded, trembling.

"I've never been surer of anything."

Byron started rubbing the thick head of his cock against her wet, throbbing pussy.

Slowly, gently, he pushed in.

Lucy gasped at being stretched, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck, you're tight," Byron groaned, forehead pressed to hers.

He moved slowly, giving her time to adjust, kissing her breathless, whispering filthy, reverent promises into her skin.

"Mine," he whispered fiercely. "You're fucking mine."

Lucy whimpered, clinging to him.

When he was fully inside her, he stilled, breathing raggedly.

"Tell me to stop, and I will."

"Don't you dare," she panted.

Byron growled low in his throat and started moving.

Slow, deep thrusts that drove her insane.

He kissed her like he was starving, his hands everywhere — gripping her hips, her breasts, threading through her hair.

Lucy moaned into his mouth, meeting every thrust with a desperate roll of her hips.

It was too much. It was everything.

The friction built higher and higher, Byron finding his rhythm, pounding into her harder now, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"So fucking good," Byron groaned against her ear. "You're made for me."

Lucy cried out, nails scraping down his back, clinging to him like she’d drown without him.

Byron flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her ass up and slamming back into her.

Lucy gasped, tears springing to her eyes from the intensity.

He fucked her hard, savage now, every thrust a claiming.

"You feel so good, baby," he rasped.

"Please, Byron," Lucy begged, not even sure what she was begging for.

"I'm close," he growled. "Let go for me, Lucy. Let me feel you cum."

His hand slipped between her thighs, rubbing fast tight circles on her clit.

Lucy shattered around him with a scream, her pussy clamping down on his cock.

Byron roared her name, slamming into her one final time, cumming deep inside her.

They collapsed onto the bed, tangled and trembling.

Byron kissed her face, her forehead, her neck, stroking her sweaty hair back from her face.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered, voice raw.

"Me too," Lucy whispered back. Byron smirks knowingly.

He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her like a shield.

"You're mine now, Lucy Morgan," Byron said fiercely. "No one will ever fucking touch you again."

Lucy smiled sleepily against his skin.

"That I am, Byron."

They fell asleep tangled together forgetting all about the shit day they had just overcome.

The sunlight sneaked in through the gaps in the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room.

Lucy stirred first, blinking slowly awake. Byron’s arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, his face buried in her hair, his breathing slow and even.

She smiled lazily — until a loud, frantic knock rattled the door.

"Lucy! Lucy! Open up!" Barnaby's voice came, high-pitched with excitement.

Lucy groaned. Byron muttered something unintelligible and pulled her closer, refusing to wake up properly.

Before either of them could move, the door burst open.

Barnaby skidded into the room, clutching a device in one hand.

He froze.

Blinking.

Staring.

Then he grinned.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he sang, smirking like the devil himself.

Lucy sat up sharply, dragging the covers with her to shield her naked body, her cheeks flaming.

Byron didn’t even bother moving, just cracked one eye open and scowled.

"Get out, Barnaby." Byron growled lowly.

"Oh no, no, I honestly don't want to interrupt the progress of true love," Barnaby teased, stepping fully into the room.

He waved the device in the air dramatically.

"But some of us have been up all-night solving mysteries while others have clearly been...busy."

Lucy grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him.

Barnaby dodged easily, laughing.

"Okay, okay, calm down, Romeo and Juliet." he said, backing toward the door. "But seriously — I know what the necklace is. And you’re going to want to hear this."

With that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving a stunned — and very flustered — Lucy and Byron tangled in the sheets.

Byron sighed, pressing a lazy kiss to Lucy’s bare shoulder.

"We’re never going to hear the end of this, are we?"

Lucy smiled wickedly.

"Not in a million years."

The breakfast area buzzed with quiet energy as Lucy, Corey, Byron, and Damien all gathered around the long oak table.

The staff had just finished laying out the morning spread — fresh croissants, eggs, fruit, bacon, pots of coffee and tea — but none of them were reaching for the food yet.

All eyes were glued to Barnaby, who was practically vibrating with excitement, clutching his laptop like a man ready to unveil the secrets of the universe.

Lucy sipped her coffee calmly.

"Okay, Professor X," she teased. "Spill it."

Barnaby grinned wide, plopping his laptop down in front of him and spinning it dramatically toward them.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Your minds are about to be blown."

He clicked a few keys. The first image popped up — a blueprint scan of the brooch.

"So, first things first. Our little 'gift' pinned to Rebecca wasn’t just a listening device."

He tapped a blinking point on the image.

"Apart from its long-range microphone it had a tracking device."

Corey whistled low under his breath.

"Military grade?"

"Military wet dreams grade," Barnaby corrected, looking smug.

Lucy leaned in, her brow furrowing.

"How long do you think they've been listening?"

Barnaby shrugged grimly.

"Long enough. My guess? Ever since Rebecca knew she might get caught. Maybe even before that."

Damien looked serious now, arms crossed over his chest.

"And the second signal you picked up? The dormant one?"

Barnaby's grin widened — this was clearly his favorite part.

He pulled up another scan, this time of the gold chain Lucy wore around her neck.

The room went still.

"Your necklace, Lucy."

"It’s not just jewelry."

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, almost unconsciously, she lifted a hand and touched the space where the chain normally rested against her skin.

"It’s a key," Barnaby said softly. "A key to something digital."

He clicked again, pulling up an ancient-looking schematic.

"There’s an encrypted chip embedded in the cross. Something tiny enough to hide for years without ever being noticed."

Byron leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

"Encrypted with what?"

"Coordinates," Barnaby said, tapping the screen. "And a lock code. Without the necklace, you can’t open whatever safe, vault, or system it’s tied to."

Lucy stared at him, feeling the world tilt slightly.

"They didn’t just kill your family for money, Lucy," Barnaby said quietly.

"They were after something bigger. Something locked behind whatever this key unlocks."

Lucy swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm.

Corey reached over and squeezed her hand briefly.

Damien broke the heavy silence first.

"So we find what the necklace opens, and we finally find out who’s really at the center of all this." Lucy nodded slowly. "Exactly."

Barnaby leaned back, finally reaching for a croissant with a triumphant grin.

"You’re welcome, by the way." he said around a mouthful of pastry.

Corey laughed under his breath.

"Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius."

"We’ll throw you a party later."

Lucy sat back in her chair, fingers idly playing with the necklace at her throat.

Somehow, it felt heavier now.

Not just jewelry.

Not just a memory.

A key to everything.

And now — the real hunt was about to begin.

Barnaby looked up from his plate, lazily sipping on the last of his bubble tea.

He licked the crumbs from his fingers, then casually dropped a bomb into the middle of the peaceful breakfast:

"I still have one mystery left to solve."

Everyone froze mid-bite.

Corey’s head snapped up.

"What mystery?" he asked suspiciously.

Barnaby grinned mischievously, the devil himself in oversized hoodie form.

"Why Byron was sleeping in Lucy’s bed last night." Lucy choked on her coffee. Byron didn't even flinch — just calmly reached for another croissant.

Barnaby, sensing the storm about to break, scooped up the last bite of his sandwich, grabbed his bubble tea under one arm, and practically sprinted for the door.

"Solve that mystery yourselves," he called gleefully over his shoulder. "I’ll have the coordinates ready for you when you’re done fighting about it."

He vanished down the hallway like a man escaping certain death.

A heavy silence dropped over the room.

Damien coughed awkwardly, trying not to laugh, and stood up.

"Think I’ll go...uh, check on the security team." he said with a smirk, picking up his plate and leaving the room quickly.

Leaving Lucy.

Byron.

And Corey.

Alone.

Corey slowly put down his fork, stared across the table at Byron — who was still eating like nothing happened — and said:

"You’re fired."

Lucy gasped.

Byron smirked, unfazed.

He took another casual bite of his food, chewing slowly before answering.

"Doesn't matter if you fire me." Byron said easily. "I'm not leaving her."

The air practically crackled between them.

Corey pushed his chair back roughly, ready to lunge across the table, but Lucy jumped up first.

"Are you insane?" she yelled at him, hands thrown in the air.

"You're like a brother to me, Corey! But that doesn't mean you get to decide who I'm with!"

Corey's face twisted in frustration.

"I am your brother, Lucy”. He said in a corrective tone “The last thing I want to hear is that you're being touched by the guy who's supposed to be protecting you!"

Lucy threw her hands up again.

"Well I touched him first if that helps you feel any better!"

"OH GOD NO, THAT DOESN'T HELP," Corey shouted, dramatically covering his ears.

Byron leaned back in his chair, smug as hell, arms folded over his chest. He looked like he was enjoying this.

Lucy crossed her arms stubbornly, cheeks burning but refusing to back down.

Corey glared between the two of them, pure protective rage burning in his chest. His little sister — practically his blood — and the most emotionally shut-off Dove in history?

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

"Don't you dare hurt her," Corey growled, voice low and deadly.

Byron stood up slowly, towering over the table.

His smirk disappeared. His face went serious.

He stepped around the table until he was inches from Corey, meeting him head-on.

"Never," Byron said.

Lucy blinked rapidly, her heart thudding painfully at the intensity between them.

Byron’s eyes softened slightly as he glanced at her.

"I'll take very good care of her," Byron added.

Corey stared at him a long moment — a long, tense moment.

Then, with a gruff noise of disgust, he turned and stormed toward the door.

"Fine."

"Be ready soon, Lucy." Corey threw the words over his shoulder. "You have an empire to run."

The door slammed shut behind him.

Lucy sagged against the table, covering her face with her hands.

"Oh my god," she groaned.

Byron chuckled darkly, stepping up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, his mouth hot against her skin.

"I like when you defend me." he murmured, lips brushing her neck.

Lucy laughed breathlessly.

"Yeah, well, you owe me. Big time."

"I'll make it up to you," he promised.

Lucy shivered, leaning back against him.

Maybe she’d just let him.

Later.