Page 33 of The Last Morgan
Lucy stood up sharply.
"Let's go intervene."
Corey and David followed without a word. They marched toward the lift, tension snapping in the air between them.
The ride was silent, heavy with anticipation.
When the doors opened to Peter's floor, they spotted him instantly. Peter looked up from his bag—and froze. Instinctively, he knew.
Without hesitation, he bolted for the stairwell.
"Stop him!" David shouted.
They chased after him, Lucy’s heels clicking against the polished floor.
Peter threw open the stairwell door and ran straight into a brick wall — or rather, into BYRON.
Byron stood there, a ghost in black, calm and immovable.
Without a word, Byron lifted his foot and shoved Peter backward. Peter stumbled, losing his balance, and tumbled down the first flight of stairs with a crash.
Byron descended slowly after him. Peter groaned, trying to crawl, but Byron knelt beside him, pressing a hard hand against his back.
"Don't, fucking move " Byron said in a voice cold enough to freeze hell.
Lucy, Corey, and David stormed through the door seconds later, taking in the scene with wide eyes.
"How?" Lucy gasped, stunned.
Corey smirked and shook his head.
"He's a Dove," he said, as if it was obvious.
Byron looked up at Lucy, their eyes locking for a brief second. Electricity passed between them, and Lucy’s mind stupidly flashed to the memory of the towel incident.
She blinked hard, shaking it off.
"Let's bring him back to my office," she said, voice steady.
Byron hauled Peter up by the collar like he weighed nothing, and the group walked him back through the open office space.
Whispers followed them like a wave.
"What did Peter do?"
"No way, Peter?"
"This has to be a mistake."
Lucy kept her head high, ignoring the stares.
Inside the lift, Peter’s anger boiled over. He turned sharply toward Lucy, sneering.
"You bitch," he spat. "You’ll get everything coming to you."
Byron didn’t hesitate. One quick jab—a solid punch to Peter’s jaw.
Peter’s eyes rolled back, his body going limp.
