Page 59 of The Last Morgan

Through the open phone, Byron's growl echoed like a low storm.

"Hold on, Lucy. We’re coming. JUST HOLD ON."

She was on the move, dodging Rebecca’s strike, countering with a brutal palm to the chest that made the older woman stumble back.

Rebecca recovered fast.

"This can end easily," she said again.

Lucy shook her head.

"You really don’t get it," she said. "I’m not my parents. I’m not my Brothers. You don't scare me."

Rebecca’s face twisted in fury.

"Then DIE LIKE THEM!"

She said as she lunged forward.

Just as the blade slashed forward — a black SUV came roaring around the corner, tires screaming against the pavement.

Damian and Byron jumped out weapons drawn.

Rebecca faltered.

Lucy ducked again and twisted sharply, wrenching the knife from Rebecca's hand.

A hard punch to Rebecca’s jaw sent her sprawling.

Seconds later, Byron tackled her to the ground, pinning her like an animal.

Lucy stood over them, panting, blood dripping from her elbow.

Byron looked up at her.

"You, okay?" he asked, voice dark and hoarse.

Lucy met his eyes.

And smiled.

"Never better."

Damian took over from Byron without a word. It was almost like a silent handoff. Damian Grabbed Rebecca and placed her in a choke hold, “sleep now you little shit” Lucy giggled.

She stumbled backward, woozy, that not so sober feeling creeping back in.

Only then did she realize — in the heat of the fight, in the adrenaline haze, that she didn’t even notice the blade sink into her side.

Blood bloomed in a dark, sticky patch against her shirt. “Ahh, she said, so it’s not a small boo boo”

Byron swore under his breath.

Lucy blinked down at her side, almost confused.

"I’m fine," she muttered stubbornly.

In truth, she looked worse for wear. But most of the damage wasn’t from Rebecca’s knife it was from throwing herself out of a moving vehicle at high speed.