Page 9 of For Mercy

"We're going to end this," she said, her voice low and determined."Cordell, his network, all of it.Whatever it takes."

Morgan let the silence settle between them, a comfortable weight.Her father's presence felt both familiar and strange, like rediscovering a part of herself she'd thought lost forever.

"I should go," Morgan said finally, her voice barely above a whisper."Derik will be worried, and I need to start planning our next move."

John nodded, rising slowly from his seat on the edge of the bed.Morgan stood as well, her body tense with a mixture of reluctance and urgency.

They faced each other, neither quite sure how to bridge the physical and emotional distance.Then, with a sudden surge of emotion, Morgan stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her father.He stiffened for a moment, surprised, before returning the embrace.

Morgan pressed her face against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of pine and woodsmoke that clung to his clothes.It transported her back to childhood camping trips, to moments of safety and belonging that had seemed lost forever.

"I'm glad you're alive, Dad," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears."I thought...for so long, I thought I'd lost you too."

John's arms tightened around her."I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, his own voice rough with emotion."I never wanted to leave you.But I thought...I thought it was the only way to keep you safe."

Morgan pulled back slightly, meeting her father's gaze.The determination that had driven her for the past decade blazed in her eyes."We're going to fix this," she said."Together.No more running, no more hiding.It's time Cordell paid for everything he's done."

John nodded, a mix of pride and concern etched on his weathered features."Be careful, Morgan.Cordell's dangerous, and he's got a lot of powerful friends."

"I know," Morgan replied, her jaw set."But so do I.And I've got the truth on my side."

As she turned to leave, Morgan paused at the cabin door, looking back at her father.The enormity of what lay ahead weighed heavily on her shoulders, but for the first time in years, she didn't feel alone in the fight.

"I'll be in touch," she promised."Stay safe, Dad.We've got a lot of lost time to make up for."

CHAPTER THREE

Golden rays pierced through the gaps in the blinds, painting warm streaks across Morgan's bedroom walls.The tantalizing aroma of coffee and sizzling bacon wafted in, tugging at her senses.For a fleeting moment, as her eyes fluttered open, the world felt deceptively ordinary.Normal.Safe.

But reality crashed over her like a tidal wave, drowning that illusion in an instant.Her father was alive.The thought sent a jolt through her body, and she sat up abruptly, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

"Not now," she muttered, running a hand over her face, feeling the rough edges of scars earned during her time behind bars.She pushed the thought away, but it lingered, persistent as the morning light creeping across her skin.

From the kitchen came the familiar sounds of Derik moving about.The clatter of a frying pan against the stove.The low murmur of the morning news from the small TV.It was all so routine, so mundane—as if the earth-shattering revelations of last night had never happened.

But they had.And now, everything had changed.

Morgan swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool hardwood floor.She closed her eyes, trying to center herself, to find some semblance of normalcy in the chaos that had become her life.

"You've faced worse," she reminded herself, her voice barely above a whisper."Prison.Betrayal.False accusations.This is just another hurdle."

But even as the words left her lips, she knew it was a lie.This was different.This was personal in a way nothing else had been.

She stood, her legs slightly unsteady, and made her way to the bedroom door.As she reached for the handle, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.The woman staring back at her was a far cry from the bright-eyed agent she'd once been.Now, her dark eyes held a hardness, a wariness that spoke of years spent looking over her shoulder.

"Time to face the music," she murmured, steeling herself for what lay beyond that door.For the conversation she knew was coming with Derik.For the reality of a world where her father—a man she'd mourned, a man she'd believed dead—was suddenly, impossibly alive.

With a deep breath, she turned the handle and stepped out into the hallway, the scent of breakfast growing stronger, a mundane anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

Morgan tugged the zipper of her worn FBI Academy hoodie up to her chin as she padded into the kitchen.The familiar aroma of coffee and pancakes wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

Derik stood at the stove, his broad shoulders tense beneath his white t-shirt as he flipped a pancake with practiced ease.Skunk, ever the opportunist, sat at attention nearby, his brown eyes fixed on Derik's every move, tail thumping hopefully against the linoleum floor.

"Morning," Derik said, his voice low and gravelly.He didn't turn around, didn't elaborate.He didn't have to.

Morgan's throat tightened as she remembered the weight of last night's confession.How she'd poured out the impossible truth about her father, about Cordell, about the web of lies and danger that now ensnared them both.She could see it in the rigid set of Derik's jaw as he slid a plate of golden pancakes in front of her, in the way his green eyes, usually so warm, now held a glimmer of worry.

"Thanks," she murmured, settling onto a bar stool.Her fingers curled around the warm mug of coffee he'd already prepared for her, black with two sugars, just the way she liked it.The familiarity of the gesture made her heart ache.

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