Page 13 of The Last Morgan
Laughter.
Warmth.
The smell of pancakes drifting through the air.
Her mother’s voice calling gently: “Come eat before they get cold!”
Then — chaos.
Footsteps pounding on the floor. Doors slamming.
Her father’s voice, sharp with fear: “Hide.”
Lucas and Leo grabbing her hands, pulling her toward the cupboard.
Her father’s eyes — wide, frantic. Full of something she hadn’t seen before: terror.
“Stay here. Be quiet. No matter what,” he told her.
She remembered how her brothers had squeezed in beside her, their shoulders tight against hers.
Then came unfamiliar voices.
A man’s voice. Cold. Businesslike.
“Mr. Morgan now is it?, we’ve been looking for you and your wife. Where is it?”
Her father responded, voice cracking under pressure.
“Jimmy — please. You want money? I’ll give you money — just don’t do this—”
Then came the first shot.
Her mother’s scream.
Her father again, desperate: “Nora! She had nothing to do with this! Please — stop — please—”
Beside her, Leo’s voice was barely a whisper: “We have to help Dad.”
Lucas locked eyes with her. “Stay here. Stay silent.”
They were gone in the next breath.
Before leaving, they pushed something heavy against the door.
Their final act of protection.
Then came more shouting.
More gunfire.
Her father’s voice, shredded by anguish.
“My boys! Not my boys! Oh God — please—”
Another shot.
Then silence.
