Page 24 of The Last Morgan

Lucy lay sprawled across her bed, flushed and giggling, her heart still pounding from what they had just done. Byron lounged beside her, his bare chest rising and falling, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

She propped herself up on her elbow, studying him.

"You never talk about you," she said softly.

He turned his head, his grey eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, he said nothing, just stared like he was memorizing her.

"My life’s not so different from yours, Lucy," he said finally. His voice was low. "Maybe just a little darker around the edges."

He reached out and ran his knuckles gently down her arm.

"I promise you," he whispered, "I’ll tell you, my story, I just need you to figure out yours first."

Lucy swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and nodded.

"I need a shower," she said, hating how reluctant she was to leave his side.

Byron smirked lazily. "I’ll try not to miss you too much."

"Your food’s here," Byron called. Lucy practically squealed with excitement. She threw on comfy joggers and a loose tee and ran out of the bathroom.

The staff had outdone themselves. Bowls of pasta, bread rolls and fresh salad sat waiting.

Lucy dived in like she hadn’t eaten in years. She devoured her plate so fast, Byron sat back, hands folded behind his head, laughing at her.

"Come on now," he teased. "Did I not satisfy your appetite enough?"

Lucy snorted, almost choking on a piece of bread.

Byron’s grin turned wicked. "Good girl," he murmured. "I love it when you choke."

Lucy burst out laughing, tossing a bread roll at his head.

"BYRON!" she shrieked, giggling so hard she nearly tipped her chair over.

He caught the roll easily, smirking like the cocky bastard he was.

By the time Byron finished his own shower, Lucy had wiped every plate clean.

They headed downstairs together, arms brushing as they walked. There was a lightness to Lucy now, a rightness she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Barnaby was back at the kitchen table, laptop opened in front of him.

He wiggled his fingers at them but didn’t say anything, too absorbed in whatever he was working on.

And there — standing by the entryway, was Corey.

Lucy’s heart leapt.

"You're back!" she cried.

Corey grunted. "Miss me?"

Lucy smirked. "Not even a little."

But her grin faltered slightly when she saw the tension in his shoulders.

Byron moved instinctively closer to her.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asked, all humor draining from her voice.

Corey’s eyes flicked to Byron, then back to Lucy.

"Let’s round everyone up," he said grimly. "I’ve got a lot to fill you in on."

Lucy exchanged a look with Byron, who immediately nodded.

Whatever was coming, it wasn’t good.

The house buzzed with quiet tension as Corey finally walked back in, brushing dust off his jacket.

Lucy, Byron, Barnaby, and Damien were all waiting for him, seated around the large oak breakfast table. Corey dropped a thick folder onto the table with a heavy thud.

Lucy leaned forward. " What did you find?"

Corey sighed and pulled out a chair, flopping into it.

"Alright," he began . "Let me walk you through it."

He explained how he and Damien had left to follow the leads Max had given them, most of which were crap. "No sign of Jimmy at all." He said as he stroked his hand through his hair.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"But then... we hit the third location."

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. "And?" She say’s.

Corey pulled out a stack of photos from the folder.

"These."

Lucy picked them up with trembling fingers.

They were photos of her.

As a child. Riding her bike in the garden. Playing with her brothers. Blowing out birthday candles.

Her throat tightened.

"And it gets worse," Corey stated.

He pushed forward more photos.

Lucy’s heart sank.

Photos of her brushing her hair in front of her mirror. Sleeping. Standing by her window.

Pictures of the night she first saw Byron in the garden.

Byron shot to his feet, the chair slamming back.

"They were WATCHING us?" he roared, fury radiating from him.

Lucy jumped, her chest squeezing painfully.

Corey was already on his feet, hands raised.

"Byron — listen."

Byron's hands fisted.

"It could’ve been a long-range camera," Corey said, his voice steady. "Maybe a dormant system. Maybe automated. You couldn’t have known."

Byron paced like a caged predator; shoulders coiled with tension.

"They watched her sleep," he spat. "They watched her LIVE."

Lucy felt Byron’s anger like it was her own, burning through her chest.

Barnaby looked up from his laptop, pale.

"And it wasn’t just archived stuff," Barnaby added quietly. "Some of those cameras were still live feeds. Jimmy’s been keeping tabs on everything."

Lucy clenched her fists.

"I want them all destroyed," she shouted.

Corey nodded. "Already in motion."

Corey laid out a rough, hand-drawn map on the table.

"From the surveillance timestamps, Damien and I tracked three places Jimmy hit recently."

He pointed them out.

"Old warehouses. Abandoned school properties. Probably moving safe houses. He’s smart — never stays long."

Lucy studied the map, her blood simmering.

She quickly changed the subject,

“On our journey,” Lucy began, glancing around the table, “we found something interesting, coins! — each coin had a clue that might lead us to whatever it is they’ve been hunting for.”

She leaned forward slightly. “Barnaby’s working on decrypting them. Once he’s done, we should have coordinates. Another breadcrumb trail… and probably another step closer to that stalker bastard.”

For a few moments, silence settled over the table.

Lucy ran her fingers over one of the photos — the one of her sitting in the garden with her mother. She hadn’t even been six years old.

They had been watching her for a while.

Byron’s hand slid over hers, grounding her, warm and protective.

Corey saw it but said nothing.

Instead, he cleared his throat and smiled.

"One last thing."

Everyone looked up.

He pulled out a final photo — one that made Lucy's breath catch.

A close-up shot of her necklace.

The necklace her father had left for her.

"They know about it," Corey said.

Barnaby leaned back in his chair, the faint glow of his laptop lighting up his face.

"It’s time," he announced.

Everyone looked up sharply.

Barnaby tapped a few final keys. "I'm about to plug in the coordinates."

Lucy nodded, setting down her tea. Corey and Byron shifted slightly closer, the air in the room tightening with anticipation.

Barnaby hit enter.

For a second, nothing happened. Then — the screen flashed.

"As if!" Barnaby shouted, laughing in disbelief.

Lucy leaned over his shoulder. "What?"

Barnaby spun the laptop around so they could all see. "They lead to the Morgan Group building."

Corey blinked. "You’re kidding."

"Nope," Barnaby said. "It’s been under our nose the entire time."

Lucy’s mouth tightened into a thin line. "It figures."

"But—" Barnaby hesitated. "It’s not clear exactly where inside the building the item is. Whatever we’re looking for, it’s not in a normal area."

Byron frowned. "What do you mean?"

Barnaby tapped a dark block on the blueprint map. "It’s hidden in something called 'Auxiliary Space B.'"

Corey crossed his arms. "That’s not listed anywhere in the company structure."

Barnaby nodded, started typing into his laptop "And it’s locked behind Level 10 security clearance."

Lucy’s eyebrows rose. "Level 10?"

"Yeah," Barnaby said. "Problem is, the normal system only goes up to Level 9. I’ve never even heard of Level 10."

"Neither have I," Corey added.

Lucy chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment, then grabbed her phone and texted David.

'Need to talk — critical security clearance issue. Urgent.’

David’s reply came fast:

‘Give me 20 minutes.’

While they waited, they started plotting.

"Alright," Corey said, stepping forward. "Let’s say we get into the building — what’s the plan?"

Barnaby shrugged. "Lucy owns it, so she can legally shut off the cameras and alarms. I can shut off internal systems remotely, once we're inside."

Lucy nodded, mind already racing ahead. "Then let’s move before sunrise. Get in, find what we need, get out before any of the staff arrive."

A knock at the door broke their conversation. David stepped in, looking slightly out of breath.

"You look like hell," Corey said, smirking.

David rolled his eyes. "Long night. What’s this about?"

Barnaby spun the laptop to him. David leaned in, frowning.

"Auxiliary Space B?" he muttered. "Level 10 clearance?"

He straightened, shaking his head slowly. "I’ve worked in security at Morgan Group for almost a decade. Level 9 was the highest clearance. Executives, directors... Level 10 doesn’t exist. Not on the books anyway."

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "So, it’s a ghost clearance?."

Corey added. "Something your parents buried so deep no one else could touch it."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Lucy stood slowly. "Then we have no choice. We’re going in."

Morning broke dark and early

The convoy of sleek, dark vehicles snaked its way through the early morning mist, headlights cutting through the fading gloom. Lucy sat quietly in the backseat, her fingers drumming lightly against her thigh. The villa’s briefing replayed in her mind — the blueprint, the secret auxiliary room, the hidden safe that could unlock the truth of everything.

Byron sat beside her, silent but alert, his hand occasionally brushing against hers on the seat between them. It was a small thing, but grounding.

Ahead of them, Corey led the way, flanked by Damien and a few of the Doves. Barnaby was bouncing around excitedly in the backseat of the second car, laptop open on his knees, already trying to hack into the security systems again to make sure no unexpected alarms were tripped.

"Remember," Corey’s voice crackled through the comms. "David’s got the building on a skeleton staff this morning. Cameras are disabled; security is down. We’re good, but not invisible. Move quick."

Lucy nodded, even though no one could see her.

They pulled into the underground car park of the Morgan Group building, everything was eerily quiet at this hour. The heavy metal shutters clanged shut behind them, sealing them in.

"Let’s move," Corey ordered.

They moved as one, practiced and sharp, like a unit that had been doing this for years.

Inside, the building felt different. The familiar sterile white marble lobby and the grand staircase leading up to the executive floors — usually so bustling with life — were dead silent. Their footsteps echoed unnaturally loud.

David met them at the side entrance, his face pale. "I've never seen level ten clearance used before. This should be fun"

Lucy exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of what was going to happen, settle into her bones.

They piled into the service elevator in a tense, quiet huddle. The air was thick with expectation. No one spoke as the elevator hummed down into the depths of the building. “You need to get them to change this music Lucy, it’s depressing me” Corey added to an already tense situation

Lucy could feel Byron standing close behind her, his presence a silent shield. She wasn't sure if it was him or the idea of what they were about to find that made her skin buzz with static electricity.

The doors slid open to reveal... nothing.

Just a blank, concrete hallway with one unmarked door at the very end.

“This feels like a trap,” Corey muttered under his breath.

Lucy squared her shoulders. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” she said as she pushed past him taking the lead.

They made their way slowly down the hallway. Every step echoed too loudly against the concrete walls. At the door, Barnaby stepped forward, his laptop balanced on one arm, his other hand shaking slightly with excitement.

“Here goes nothing,” he said.

The door had no lock, no handle — just a smooth surface. Barnaby frowned, tapped on the surface of the door, and suddenly a small square panel slid open, revealing a hollow the size of a coin.

Lucy blinked.

“Barnaby?”

Barnaby grinned. “Insert Coin Number One.”

Byron pulled the first coin from his pocket and handed it over. Lucy took it, fingers trembling slightly, and pressed it into the slot.

The wall shuddered.

A panel slid away, revealing a second recess, identical to the first.

Barnaby gave a low whistle. “Clever bastards.”

The second coin went in.

Another shudder, another panel sliding away.

Behind it was the third slot — and a small blinking light, waiting.

Lucy inserted the final coin.

The light blinked green.

A final hiss of hydraulics, and the door in front of them split open, sliding into the walls with a soft mechanical sigh.

Inside was a narrow staircase, leading downward into darkness.

“Great,” Corey muttered. “Because creepy stairs always end well.”

Lucy giggled, “Let’s go.”

They descended carefully, their footsteps muffled by the heavy air. The deeper they went, the colder it got. The scent of damp earth and old metal grew stronger.

At the bottom was another door; Barnaby's laptop pinged.

“DNA verification is required,” he said.

Lucy pressed her hand against the panel. She felt a sharp prick and just like that the machine whirred.

Access Granted.

With a deep, groaning sound, the door slid open. Lucy removed her hand to see the tiniest cut.

They stepped inside.

It was a vault — no other word for it.

The walls were lined with old safety deposit boxes; thick shelves stacked with dusty files and sealed crates. In the center of the room was a single plinth, and on it... a small black velvet box.

Lucy reached out, her fingers brushing the velvet. She half expected alarms to go off or the floor to collapse, but nothing happened.

She lifted the box.

It was surprisingly heavy for something so small.

She popped it open — and there, nestled inside, was a sleek black bank card and a tiny gold key, no bigger than her thumb.

The key had a serial number engraved on it.

Byron leaned over her shoulder. “Another fucking key?”

Barnaby sighed. “It's a deposit box key.”

Lucy swallowed. “At a bank.”

They all exchanged glances.

“We need to get out of here,” Corey said, his voice low. “We can come back at a later to retrieve the rest of these items”

They backed out carefully, retracing their steps. Lucy tucked the velvet box into an inner pocket of her tactical jacket.

When they reached the main hallway again, they all stopped.

It felt… wrong.

Like the shadows were heavier, the air thicker.

Byron shifted beside Lucy. He didn't say anything, but she felt his tension like a wire pulled taut.

Barnaby adjusted his laptop strap. “Let’s move.”

They didn’t speak again until they were safely back in the car.

As they sped through the streets, Lucy turned the key over in her hands, tracing the tiny numbers.

“This is it,” she said softly, “I can feel it, this is the final piece to the puzzle, and I can finally get the answers I have been looking for”.

They arrived home, tired but wired, the morning sun just beginning to creep over the estate walls. Breakfast was waiting and ready, laid out like a feast on the long oak dining table. And so was her uncle.

Lucy barely stepped into the room before she saw him standing at the far end, arms crossed, his face twisted into a look that could curdle milk.

"Where's Lillian?" Lucy asked, shrugging off her jacket.

"She's at a hotel with the kids," he said flatly.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Why aren't you with them, then?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Because something's come up that needs to be addressed." His tone left no room for discussion. With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Corey watched him leave; his brow furrowed. "There's something about him that's bugging me," he muttered.

"Not just you," Lucy and Byron said in unison.

Corey blinked at them, then chuckled. "Wow, twins."

Barnaby, oblivious to the tension, clapped his hands together. "Let's eat first. Then we can figure out the rest."

As they all dug into breakfast, outside the room Lucy's uncle was pacing. He tapped furiously on his phone, whispering harshly into it.

"Get it sorted now," he snapped, before stalking off toward his room.

Lucy found herself standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the trees beyond the estate.

"Maybe it’s not him," Corey said reluctantly, stepping up beside her. "Maybe it’s just... all of this."

Lucy tilted her head slightly, considering his words.

"The house is full of strangers," Corey continued. "We’ve got a private army here, two bodyguards, a tech genius, me, and God knows who else popping in and out. Maybe he’s just... uneasy."

"Maybe," Lucy said, but her tone suggested she wasn’t convinced.

Byron folded his arms across his chest "Or maybe he knows more than he lets on."

Barnaby appeared behind them, somehow managing to carry his laptop, three doughnuts, and a juice box at the same time.

"Guys," he said through a mouthful of jelly doughnut, "Paranoia is healthy at this point. Let’s not trust anyone unless they’re on our approved list."

"And who approved that list?" Corey asked dryly.

Barnaby grinned. "Me."

Lucy laughed softly, the tension easing just a fraction.

"We stay alert," she said finally. "But we don't jump the gun. Not yet."

The others nodded their agreement.

In the distance, thunder rumbled.

"Okay, I’m going to need about an hour to start figuring out where this key and card lead," he announced, standing up and stretching.

Corey immediately jumped to attention. "I’m staying with you. I’m going to embrace the fact that everyone is the enemy until further notice"

Barnaby shrugged. Lucy snorted, but inside she agreed. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes now.

Corey turned to the rest of them. "You lot go do something normal. We'll holler if we need backup."

Barnaby and Corey headed toward his quarters. Lucy watched them disappear down the hallway before feeling a tug at her sleeve.

"Do you like the rain?" Byron’s voice was low and rough in her ear.

Lucy turned, blinking at him. "Why?"

His mouth quirked into a rare smile. "Follow me."

Without waiting for her answer, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the hallway, past the kitchens, and out onto the back terrace.

The storm had broken, fat drops of rain tumbling from the sky. Thunder rumbled overhead.

"Are you crazy?" Lucy yelled over the roar of the downpour.

Byron didn’t answer. He just grinned and tugged her toward the old greenhouse tucked behind the main garden — a relic of her mother's days, its glass panels fogged with age but still standing strong.

They slipped inside, laughter echoing against the walls.

Lucy’s soaked white T-shirt clung to her body, her breasts visibly outlined beneath the thin fabric. Byron’s eyes darkened instantly.

"I love it when you’re” Lucy cut him off “wet, I know" she said oozing with sarcasm.

She glanced down, seeing exactly what effect she had on him. His pants strained against the evidence of his desire.

Lucy giggled. Byron didn’t waste another second. He scooped her up with a growl and set her down on the old wooden potting table in the center of the greenhouse. His hands were rough as they tugged down her soaked jeans, leaving her in nothing but her thin, lacy panties.

"You’re fucking beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with need.

Without warning, he shoved his own pants down, freeing himself. The head of his cock was flushed, thick and throbbing with urgency.

Lucy gasped as he pressed against her, teasing, teasing, and then—

He thrust in, hard and deep.

She cried out, clinging to his shoulders. The rain battered the glass above them, a wild drumbeat to match the savage rhythm of his thrusts.

Halting mid-stroke to hold her face between his hands, making her look at him, he growled “This is my pussy!” Lucy smiled and said “absolutely”

Thunder cracked overhead, lightning flashing through the glass.

Byron's muscles flexed as he fucked her with desperate, hungry movements. His hands slipped beneath her ass, lifting her higher pushing his cock in deeper, fuller.

Lucy locked her ankles behind his back, pulling him even closer.

"You feel..." he gasped, "so fucking good."

His mouth found her neck, biting and sucking bruises onto her skin like he needed to mark her.

Lucy was panting, nails digging into his back. She felt herself spiraling, the storm inside her building to match the one outside.

"Byron," she whimpered, barely coherent.

He caught her mouth in a savage kiss, muffling her cries as she shattered around him.

Byron growled, deep and primal, as he felt her tighten around him. He thrust faster, harder, his own climax crashing through him moments later.

They collapsed together onto the table, trembling, gasping, soaked to the skin both inside and out.

For a while, there was only the sound of the rain and the ragged pull of their breaths.

Byron brushed her hair back from her forehead, his touch surprisingly tender.

"You’re mine," he whispered fiercely.

Lucy could only nod, still dazed.

"Come on," he said gruffly, lifting her easily into his arms. "Let’s get you dry before you catch a cold."

He carried her back through the storm, both of them laughing and kissing like teenagers.

Back inside, dripping and exhilarated, they headed straight to her room. Byron disappeared into the bathroom first, grabbing towels.

Lucy sat on the edge of her bed, smiling like an idiot. Her whole body hummed with satisfaction and aching heat.

Byron came back, tossed her a towel, and started stripping off his wet clothes without an ounce of shame.

Lucy watched, admiring the way the water slid down the ridges of his abs, the strong line of his shoulders, the way he moved like a predator at ease.

"Like what you see?" he teased, catching her stare.

She smirked. "Maybe."

He dropped the towel around her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her forehead.

"We’ve got a little time before Barnaby calls us," he murmured. "And I’m not done with you yet."

Lucy laughed, pulling him down onto the bed.

Outside, the storm raged on.

But inside, there was only fire.

Barnaby and Corey made their way upstairs, heading toward Barnaby’s quarters tucked neatly into the east wing of the house.

As soon as they entered, Barnaby kicked the door shut with his foot and practically dove onto his desk. His laptop was already humming with energy as he plugged in the tiny key and began scanning the code etched into its side.

Corey leaned against the door, arms crossed. "Well, genius? What’s the verdict?"

Barnaby’s eyes flicked over the screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "Okay, so this key is definitely for a safety deposit box," he confirmed, excitement thick in his voice. "It shouldn’t be hard to find out which bank."

He zoomed in on the engraved numbers and letters.

"There’s a partial code here—most banks have unique identifiers. I suppose the easiest thing to do would be to call all the banks local to us and run this code by them. Old-school. Tedious. But faster than hacking into their systems."

Corey raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me you’re not about to hack into federal bank systems."

Barnaby gave him an exaggeratedly innocent look. "Moi? Never." He shook his head at the accusation and handed him a burner phone. "Start calling."

It took less time than they expected. After three grumpy managers, a threatening hang-up, and one overly chatty bank teller who demanded Barnaby spell the code out twice, they struck gold.

"It’s here," Barnaby said, slapping the desk in victory. "At Marpo Bank."

Corey’s face darkened. "The same damn bank where we started?"

Barnaby nodded. "Back to the beginning." Without hesitation, they headed downstairs toward the kitchen.

Corey checked his watch. 11:30 AM. He sent out a text to everyone, ‘Kitchen, now!’

Lucy came first, her hair a little messy from rushing. Damien followed, stretching his arms. Byron didn’t appear immediately — he was still finishing his shower upstairs.

Barnaby bounced on his heels; laptop hugged to his chest. "Okay," he announced once enough of them were gathered. "We have our location. The key belongs to a deposit box at Marpo Bank."

Lucy’s heart pounded. Full circle. It felt almost too perfect — and in her experience, perfect usually meant trouble.

Corey stepped forward. "We can go now if you want."

Lucy didn’t hesitate. "Of course. Why would we wait?"

Barnaby did a small happy dance at the thought of getting this part of the mission done. Damien smirked and shook his head.

"I need a moment to get ready," Lucy said, already backing toward the hallway. "I’ll be back."

Without waiting for their responses, she darted upstairs. Lucy pushed open her bedroom door. The sound of running water from her ensuite bathroom filled the space. Byron was in the shower, steam swirling from the slightly open door.

She shouted. "Hurry up and get ready! Barnaby found the bank where the deposit box is, and we’re leaving shortly!"

From inside the bathroom, Byron's voice rumbled out. "Yes, boss."

Lucy rolled her eyes, amused by the way he always responded to her commands with that signature blend of obedience and sarcasm.

She quickly changed into black tactical pants, a fitted black long-sleeve top, and boots — sleek, fast, and practical. She checked her reflection once and tugged her hair into a low ponytail.

Byron emerged a minute later, a towel low around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his sharp torso. His muscles flexed as he ruffled a towel through his hair.

Lucy caught herself staring — again. She turned away, grabbing her jacket to mask the heat rising up her cheeks.

"Five minutes," Byron promised, flashing a cocky grin.

"You have three," Lucy called back as she left the room, heading back down to the others.

By the time she returned, Corey and Barnaby were already outside near the cars, checking their gear. Damien leaned against one of the SUVs, sunglasses on, arms crossed, looking every inch the professional bodyguard.

"Ready?" Corey asked.

Lucy nodded. "Give Byron a minute, he will be down shortly”

Corey, still not all together happy with the idea of his sister being with the grim reaper, nodded and turned, shaking his head.

Engines roared to life. They piled into two separate black SUVs — Corey driving one, Damien the other. The drive toward the city was tense but quick. Gray clouds still hung heavy overhead, casting everything in a muted silver hue.

"Same place, different mission," Lucy muttered as they turned onto the boulevard leading toward Marpo Bank.

The sun cast a low glare across the glistening streets as the convoy of sleek black SUVs pulled into the marble-lined entrance of Marpo Bank. The building stood as an opulent monolith amidst a street of modern steel and glass. A place of secrets, of power. Of wealth. And now, of stolen truth.

Lucy stepped out of the lead SUV, there was purpose in her stride, an unspoken command in her posture. Inside, the bank was near silent, as Lucy approached the reception desk, the teller's eyes widened in recognition.

"I need to speak to the branch manager, please."

Within moments, a tall, silver-haired man emerged from a side door. His face split into a practiced smile. "Miss Morgan," he greeted warmly. "Back so soon."

Lucy accepted his handshake with a nod. "We need access to a security deposit box. One that corresponds with this key."

Barnaby stepped forward and presented the small brass key.

The manager examined it, turning it over in his palm. "Ah... one of our legacy boxes. We’ve not used this particular series in over a decade. Follow me."

They were ushered through a secured hallway lined with framed portraits of past banking magnates. As they walked, Lucy glanced at Corey, who gave her the slightest nod. The manager led them to a private waiting chamber—marble floors, high-backed chairs, a glass water pitcher sitting untouched on a side table.

"Wait here, please. I’ll fetch the box."

He disappeared through another door, locking it behind him.

Minutes passed.

Then more minutes.

Barnaby had already begun fidgeting, tapping furiously on his phone and pacing with nervous energy. "Something’s not right," he muttered.

Just then, the door burst open. The manager reappeared, his face ashen, his suit jacket askew.

"It’s gone," he panted. "The deposit box. It’s... it’s gone."

Lucy stood so fast her chair tipped. "What?"

"They came up behind me, took the box, and exited through the rear service door. Security didn’t even clock them. They moved fast. Too fast. I followed them to the exit and saw that they drove off in a blue Volkswagen Beetle. Very distinct."

Corey swore under his breath, already pulling his phone.

"You’re supposed to be one of the most secure banks in the country," Lucy snapped. "How does someone just waltz in and take my deposit box?"

The manager stammered, "It... it must have been an inside job. There’s no other explanation."

The team wasted no time in racing to the exit, Barnaby already pulling his drone from its case. "I’ve got a chance to spot them if I launch now” Moments later, the drone soared, slicing through the sky like a hawk.

"Come on, baby," Barnaby whispered to the remote. "Show me the Beetle."

Through the drone's camera feed, the streets below flickered past—a blur of pedestrians, taxis, and delivery vans. And then...

"There! Blue Beetle! License plate BZ91 KVC. Headed westbound on Grafton Street!"

Lucy shouted. "Everyone, in the cars!"

"Track them, Barns," Corey barked from the driver’s seat.

"Already on it! They’re making a left at Cross Avenue. We can intercept if we cut through Bexley Road."

Corey took the wheel with a growl. Tires screeched as they peeled off into the streets.

The chase was on.