Page 109 of The Last Morgan
“Then talk,” Lucy snapped. “Now.”
The woman’s voice shook as she began.
“My name is Talia,” she said, glancing up nervously at Corey, who stood by the door like a looming shadow. “I was hired ayear ago. Planted at Marpo. They... Jimmy and the others... have been waiting for you for a long time.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow. “And how did you get involved?”
Talia let out a shaky breath. “It started with money. Just money. I was drowning in debt and someone approached me—said I’d be paid double my salary to work at the bank and keep tabs on any unusual activity... especially if you came in.”
“So they knew I’d come,” Lucy said quietly.
“Yes. Jimmy said you’d eventually be back. That your return was inevitable. I was to report everything—what you asked for, what you wore, who you came with. Said the moment you requested a safety deposit box, I had to act.”
“And you helped him steal it,” Corey growled.
Talia nodded, crying now. “I distracted the manager. I unlocked the fire door. And I let Jimmy in. I thought—”
“You thought what?” Lucy interrupted. “That it was a game?”
“I thought it was just surveillance! That we were watching a powerful heiress, not... whatever this is.”
Lucy studied her for a moment. The tears, the shaking hands—none of it moved her.
“I was stupid,” Talia whispered. “I didn’t know they’d want you dead. I swear. I was in it for the money, that’s all.”
“Do you know what is in the box?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t told anything beyond the objective.”
Lucy tilted her head slightly. “You sold yourself for money, then begged for mercy when the heat came.”
“I didn’t sign up to hurt anyone. I thought I was just reporting!”
“Well, understand this,” Lucy said coldly. “You’re going to disappear.”
Talia’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I’m not going to kill you. But you’re going to leave town. Tonight. And if I ever see you again—or even hear your name—I won’t be so generous.”
Corey stepped forward, grabbing the gag and replacing it. Talia didn’t resist. She had nothing left to say.
“Drop her off somewhere far,” Lucy said to Damien. “Make it clear she doesn’t get another chance.”
Damien nodded.
The basement felt colder than usual. Damp. Still. Lucy’s boots echoed off the concrete as she descended the steps, her heartbeat thudding with a rhythm she couldn’t ignore. Behind her, Corey and Barnaby followed in silence, their expressions taut.
Jimmy sat where they had left him—shackled at the wrists and ankles, blood dried along the corner of his mouth where Lucy’s punch had left its mark. The bruise was already deepening, curling under his jaw like a shadow.
The bastard smirked as soon as he saw her.
“Round two already?” his voice hoarse. “Don’t tell me you missed me.”
Lucy didn’t answer. She approached slowly, eyes locked on his. She wasn’t here for his games.
“I don’t want your dramatics,” she said calmly. “I want answers.”
Jimmy’s grin widened. “You mean you don’t want me to monologue while tied to a chair like some cliché villain?”
