Page 65 of The Last Morgan

"Painkillers too."

Corey nodded, nodded towards the staff.

"I need to make a quick stop downstairs." Lucy muttered as she walked past them.

They didn’t need to ask why.

The basement was damp, the air hanging heavy like a warning.

The only sound was the sharp click of Lucy’s boots as she approached.

Rebecca, tied to the steel chair in the center of the room, lifted her head just in time for Lucy to throw a punch so savage it echoed off the walls.

THUD.

Rebecca’s body snapped back violently, the chair tipping. There was a sickening crack.

She hit the floor hard, twisting her wrist at an unnatural angle.

A high-pitched whimper escaped her lips.

Lucy didn’t even blink.

"Leave her," she said coldly, stepping back, brushing invisible dust off her knuckles.

Corey, Damian, and Byron stood still, watching her. There was no shock — only a grim kind of admiration flashing in their eyes.

"You're just going to leave her like that? In pain? On the floor?" Corey asked dryly, one brow raised.

Lucy glanced at him with the sharpness of a blade.

"Yes." she said simply. "I'm hungry. Let her rot while we eat."

No one argued.

They turned in silent agreement and followed Lucy back upstairs, leaving Rebecca moaning softly in the dirt.

The kitchen smelled of roasted meats and fresh bread.

Staff hurried to set the table, but Lucy waved them off with a casual flick of her fingers.

"Leave."

The staff scattered quickly.

Lucy sat down first, ripping a piece of warm bread.

As they started eating, Lucy spoke, her voice almost too calm.

"What about the driver?" she asked, tearing into a piece of chicken.

Corey leaned back in his chair, chewing thoughtfully. "No. I don’t think he was in on it, she waited for him to get out of the car. As soon as he popped the boot, something pricked him — boom — lights out."

Lucy dipped a fry into a pot of tomato sauce.

"Too easy," she mused. "She had no backup? No plan? Just... showed up alone?"

Byron shifted in his seat, his hands tense against the table.