Page 115 of The Last Morgan
Byron came thundering into the room from the hallway. “What happened?!”
“She passed out—get her on the couch!”
Together, they lowered her to the cushions, Corey brushing her hair from her forehead. Her skin was cold with sweat, her breaths shallow but steady.
“She just needs to rest,” Barnaby said, handing over a bottle of water. “It’s shock. Nothing more. Her body couldn’t keep up with what her brain was trying to process.”
Corey nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving her. “We need to give her time.”
Barnaby picked up the letter from where it had fallen. He stared at it, eyes scanning the last line again and again.
“She’s not who we thought she was,” he whispered. “She’s... something else entirely.”
They all looked down at her—this young woman who had just discovered her entire life had been a lie.
And none of them—not even Corey—knew what she would do when she woke up.
Lucy lay unconscious, her breath shallow, cheeks damp with tears. Her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm as her body twisted and turned. Corey sat on the chair beside her, propping her head gently on his lap, stroking her hair as he tried to soothe her. Her skin was clammy, her forehead burning. Whatever she was dreaming about—it wasn’t peaceful.
She whimpered, then moaned, and finally let out a low sob. Her body jerked, like she'd been hit by a wave of energy. Corey held her closer. “Come on, Lucy… wake up,” he whispered.
Byron staggered toward Barnaby. “Give me the letter.”
Barnaby handed him the crumpled parchment with shaking hands. Byron read it quickly, jaw tightening with every line.
Before Corey could say anything, Byron lowered himself carefully beside Lucy. To help her up.
“You’ll tear your stitches, Byron.” Corey said
“Just help her stand, I’ll take it from there.” Byron grimaced
Together, they helped Lucy sit upright. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, hazy and lost. Byron knelt before her, reaching up to cup her cheeks. “I love you,” he said quietly, with raw sincerity.
She needed a moment to pull herself together, the gravity of what she had just heard was weighing her down. After a few moments Lucy wiped her face and gathered her thoughts. “Okay,” she said shakily, “Let me stop… fuck it.” Her voice cracked slightly as the adrenaline kicked in. “Let’s go talk to Jimmy again.”
“Don’t let him know what we know,” Corey warned.
Lucy gave him a wry look. “Of course not,” she said, voice flat. “I am not stupid?”
They descended into the basement, its air thick with tension. Jimmy was seated in the far corner, hands bound, and his jaw still bruised from Lucy’s last encounter with him. His eyes lit up when he saw her enter—but not with joy. With a twinge of panic.
“So,” Lucy said, arms folded, her tone cold, “We opened the box.”
Jimmy's lips parted slightly. “What… was in it?”
“A letter from my dad. A bank card. Some diamonds,” Lucy said flatly. “Is that what all this was about? Money?”
Jimmy’s head rolled back and he laughed—unhinged, bitter. “Is that what they left you?” He leaned forward, chains rattling. “You sure you checked the box properly?”
“What else could be in it, Jimmy?”
His mouth twisted. “It can’t be just that. That box—” he paused, looking to the side, “—we searched years for it. My life… my life has been nothing but shadows and trails, hunting it. You’re telling me it was just keepsakes?”
Lucy took a slow step forward. “Tell me what you were really looking for. And I might let you walk out of here.”
Jimmy’s eyes flicked to Corey, then back to Lucy. He was shaking slightly.
“It was samples,” he said hoarsely. “Biological ones. From a civilization… something rare. We were supposed to find evidence. Genetic material. Blood that could… do things. I’ve said too much already.”
