Undressed By His Arrogance

James glared at his father before moving to the refrigerator, grabbing an ice pack and then heading upstairs.

Morgana turned to Tom. "You hit him. You hit my son." Her eyes locked onto Tom’s, daring him to deny it.

"That’s what you got from this. Do you have any idea what he may have told Sylvia about you, about us and what Sylvia may have told Winn?"

Tom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exaggerated disbelief.

Morgana turned to the open kitchen and Tom stormed after her. "Don’t walk away from me. Keep your goddamned kids on a leash."

She reached the kitchen counter, eyes flicking briefly to the knife block as Tom closed the distance behind her.

Morgana drew out a knife quickly from the cabinet and turned to face Tom, fury in her eyes. She held the knife close to his throat.

The motion was fluid. The blade gleamed under the kitchen lights, close enough for Tom to feel its cold promise without it touching skin.

"You keep forgetting, Tom. I am not Anna." Her grip was steady. She leaned in just enough for him to understand that this wasn’t theatrics.

She would do it.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tom asked, his throat bobbing as the knife grazed the side of his neck.

Morgana had always been fire, but she’d never pointed the flame directly at him before. He swallowed carefully, aware of every inch of steel hovering too close for comfort.

"I will not repeat myself to you ever again. The next time you touch my kids, I will make the details surrounding your death look so beautiful, you will weep with pride from hell. Domestic violence is on the rise and you, my dear have a history. It’s the perfect way to get away with murder."

Her eyes were locked on his, unblinking, daring him to test her resolve.

Morgana straightened, pulled the knife away from him and placed it on the counter. "I’ll talk to James."

She turned her back on him without hesitation, a calculated insult that told him he was not the most dangerous person in the room.

"See that you do." He adjusted his collar, jaw clenched.

"Not before you go apologise to him." Morgana turned slowly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Are you serious right now?" Tom raised a brow.

"His father punched him in the face, yes, I think he deserves an apology."

"You’re so lucky I love you." Tom shook his head.

"I love you too. Go!" Morgana ordered. She waved him off with a sharp flick of her fingers, already done with the argument. She exhaled slowly once he turned toward the stairs, the tension draining from her shoulders in stages. This was the line. This had always been the line.

She sighed as Tom headed up the stairs.

Morgana leaned back against the counter, eyes closing briefly as she steadied herself. Loving Tom had never been safe—but it had always been intoxicating. Dangerous men were her weakness.

Tom supported her madness, she supported his.

They had built their lives on mutual indulgence, on secrets, on the unspoken understanding that together they were untouchable. They lied beautifully. They destroyed efficiently. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

She was the Bonnie to his Clyde but she drew the line when it came to her kids.

Her children were not collateral. Whatever darkness lived between her and Tom stopped at the door.

He wasn’t going to bring that poison anywhere near her babies.

*****

Winn sat in Evans’ office, deep in thought.

He was still, but it was the stillness of a predator deciding where to strike.

"You have to agree with this Winn. This is a side of my father I have never seen before. Holding a woman hostage and torturing her... makes me sick to my stomach." Evans said. The image alone was enough to make his jaw tighten.

"Sharona laid her own bed. But I do have to think about this. Left to me, she would be dead. But if she has information, that changes things."

Winn finally leaned back, exhaling through his nose.

"Violence only begets more violence."

"tell that to whoever starts the violence not to the one who retaliates. So the deal is she gives us a name to establish good faith and Sam hands her over to the police?" Winn asked.

"yes." Evans nodded.

"What are the chances she will not tell the police Sam was holding her? I cant risk it. Sam is only trying to help. I cannot get him in any trouble."

"Winn..." Evans started.

He could hear the finality hardening in Winn’s tone and it unsettled him.

"No! Letting Sharona go jeopardises everything. She can take whatever information she has to her grave. I wouldn’t trust that woman as far as I can throw her. She killed my sister. She hurt your sister. She planned your niece’s attack. Honestly, she has done more than Tom himself."

Evans swallowed, the argument dying on his tongue. He knew Winn was right about the facts. What terrified him was how easily Winn had accepted the conclusion.

"I understand." Evans said in defeat, sinking back into his chair, shoulders slumping as if the weight of everything they were orchestrating had finally settled on him. Understanding didn’t mean agreement anymore—it meant acceptance. It meant conceding that Winn was standing in a place Evans had never had to occupy, and prayed he never would.

"Do you? Do you? You go to bed with your wife, you wake up next to her. Your child is safe in the next room, with you! I want that! I want my Ivy! I want my Elizabeth! Now is not the time for me to show mercy."

Evans nodded then. "Fine. I will tell Dad." He knew this choice would stain them all in different ways—but backing out now would only make everything they’d endured meaningless.

"Thank you."

"When is the interview?"

"tomorrow. You ready on your end?" Winn asked.

"We knock him down on every side."

"Good. Is Ivy in her office?"

(Courtesy of MissyDionne. Hey guys! I’m on holiday! Finally! Now, I can write all day. Whoopie!!!)