"I don’t care!" Morgana shouted, tears streaming freely now. "When you sort out the madness around you, feel free to return. My first duty is to protect my kids—not throw them into the line of fire for you."
"Get. The hell. Out."
"You are going to have to deal with this along with !" Tom shouted. "We started this together! You don’t get to walk away now. You don’t get to only love in the good tis!"
Morgana scread back.
His fist connected with her face before either of them fully registered the movent.
"Shut up! Shut up, for God’s sake!" he roared.
The world tilted.
Morgana hit the floor hard, stars exploding behind her eyes. She tasted blood and copper, her cheek burning where his knuckles had landed. Slowly, disbelievingly, she looked up at him.
"Did you just... hit ?"
Tom didn’t answer with words.
He stepped forward again, his hand swinging once more, open pal connecting with the other side of her face. Her breath hitched, words clogging her throat as panic finally broke through the shock.
"I am in this because of you!" he shouted, spittle flying. "Stop fucking threatening ! You bitch! You wanted the money. You wanted the glamour!" His face twisted cruelly. "So keep quiet now that everything’s gone to shit!"
She scrambled to her feet and bolted toward the kitchen, her mind racing, scanning desperately for anything—anything—she could use to defend herself. A knife. A pan. Even a glass bottle. Her fingers brushed the counter—
—and then Tom grabbed her from behind.
She scread as he yanked her backward, her body slamming into the wall, into the sofa with a painful thud. He was on her instantly, fists raining down, each blow stealing breath and dignity and fear all at once. She curled inward, arms raised instinctively.
"Dad!!!"
Jas’s scream sliced through the chaos.
Tom didn’t even turn.
He was too far gone—lost in rage, entitlent, and the ugly belief that he still owned the world and everyone in it. he kept hitting Morgana without pause.
Jas ran forward despite the terror gripping him, his heart pounding violently in his chest.
"Cole!" he scread toward the stairs, panic sharp and commanding. "Call 911! Now!"
Tom’s head snapped up sharply at Jas’s voice, fury flashing across his face. "Call 911?" he barked. "Call 911? I’m your fucking father!" He pivoted toward Jas and started walking, each step heavy with intent, shoulders squared, fists flexing.
Morgana saw it instantly—the narrowing of Tom’s eyes, the way his body angled, the predator’s focus locking onto her son. Fear cut through her pain. She didn’t think. She didn’t hesitate. She launched herself off the sofa, her battered body screaming in protest as she crawled and then lunged, wrapping both arms around Tom’s leg with everything she had left. "No!" she cried hoarsely, nails digging into fabric and flesh. "You will not touch my child!"
Tom reacted without rcy. He kicked viciously, his foot slamming into her ribs, then again into her shoulder. Morgana yelped, her head snapping sideways as she hit the floor. The room spun, light blurring, pain blooming everywhere at once. Still, she clung for another second before her strength finally gave out.
Jas watched it all unfold in slow motion, his chest tight, his ears ringing. His mother crumpled to the floor. Winn’s voice—steady, calm, unwavering—echoed in his head as if spoken directly into his soul. Fight back... fight back... His hands curled into fists so tight his nails bit into his palms. His knees trembled, but he stayed where he was.
When Tom turned fully toward him, Jas didn’t retreat.
As Tom closed the distance, Jas swung.
His fist connected with Tom’s face with a crack that shocked them both. "Leave us alone!" Jas shouted. The impact sent a jolt up his arm, pain flaring, but it didn’t matter.
For Tom, the mont fractured reality.
Jas’s face blurred, reshaped itself, and suddenly it wasn’t his teenage son standing there—it was Winn. Older. Stronger. Defiant. That sa look of refusal, the sa challenge burning in his eyes. The past and present collided violently in Tom’s mind, years of resentnt and rage boiling over all at once.
"You!" Tom roared, unleashing a sound that was pure, unfiltered fury.
He lunged forward and swung back, fists flying, striking Jas again and again with reckless force. Jas tried to block, tried to move, but he was younger, smaller, overwheld by the sheer violence of the attack. He fell back against the wall, breath knocked from his lungs, vision swimming.
On the floor, Morgana’s eyes fluttered open.
What she saw shattered her.
Her son—her baby—being beaten by the man she had spent her entire life making excuses for, protecting her children from, lying to herself about. The horror unfolded in front of her in brutal clarity, and with it ca a surge of strength she didn’t know she still possessed. Rage drowned out pain.
Her gaze landed on the lamp beside the sofa.
With a raw cry, Morgana dragged herself up, fingers closing around the base of the lamp. Every muscle scread as she lifted it, staggering forward on unsteady legs. Tom was still striking Jas, too lost in his fury to notice her rise.
"Get away from my son," Morgana rasped.
She brought the lamp down with the last of her strength.
It connected with Tom’s head in a sickening crack. Tom’s body stiffened, then crumpled, collapsing to the floor as the lamp shattered, pieces skittering across the room.
Morgana stood there swaying, staring down at the man she loved all her life. Her heart pounded wildly, tears streaming unchecked down her face.
Sowhere in the distance, sirens wailed closer now.
Soon, the police cars flooded the quiet street outside Morgana’s townhouse, red and blue lights painting the walls in violent pulses. Officers took control of the chaos. Paradics checked Morgana and Jas. Tom was hauled out in handcuffs, blood crusted at his hairline. At the station, his na no longer needed explanation. He was becoming familiar—a repeat offender, a man surrounded by suspicions that grew everyday.
(My favourite character is Sam Everest. Dude is bad ass)
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