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.
