Page 7 of For Vengeance

"Try to sleep," he murmured, his breath warm against her neck. "I've got first watch."

Morgan nodded, knowing sleep would likely elude her. But the solid warmth of Derik behind her, the weight of his arm around her, the rhythmic sound of his breathing—these things grounded her, pushed back the darker thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her.

As she lay in the darkness, Cordell's face kept appearing in her mind—that cold, calculating gaze, those pale blue eyes that revealed nothing, the cruel set of his mouth as he delivered his ultimatum. She could still smell his expensive cologne lingering in her living room, still see the red dot dancing across Derik's back in the video feed.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, Morgan found her eyelids growing heavy despite her determination to stay alert. Derik's steady presence behind her, the warmth of Skunk at her feet, the familiar confines of her own bedroom—these small comforts slowly worked to overcome the adrenaline still coursing through her system.

Just before dawn, exhaustion finally won out. Morgan drifted into a fitful sleep, her hand still loosely gripping the edge of her weapon on the nightstand, ready to face whatever came next. Whatever Cordell had planned, whatever moves he had yet to make, she would be ready. She had no choice.

The hunt had been coming for forty years. It had claimed her father's identity, ten years of her own life, and now threatened to take everything else. But this time, Morgan wouldn't be the hunted. This time, she would find a way to bring Cordell down, no matter the cost.

With that final thought, darkness claimed her, offering a few precious hours of respite before the next battle began.

CHAPTER THREE

Morgan jolted awake from a nightmare, Cordell's cold blue eyes still burning in her vision as consciousness rushed back. She sat upright, her heart hammering against her ribs, to find early morning light filtering through the blinds. Beside her, Derik slept, one arm still stretched across the space where she'd been lying. Skunk raised his head from the foot of the bed, dark eyes watching her with quiet concern.

The dream clung to her like a second skin—Cordell standing over her father's body, that snake-like smile on his face as he turned toward her, gun in hand. She'd tried to reach for her weapon, but her arms wouldn't move, her body frozen as Cordell approached. Then Derik had appeared in the doorway, and Cordell had swung around, firing without hesitation...

Morgan pushed away the images, focusing on her breathing. In prison, she'd learned techniques to manage the panic that came with nightmares—counting breaths, grounding herself in physical sensations. The cool morning air on her skin. The weight of the blanket across her legs. The distant sound of traffic starting to build outside.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Assistant Director Mueller's name flashed on the screen. Morgan checked the time—7:14 AM—before answering.

"Cross," she answered, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Derik, though she knew from experience that the slightest unusual sound would likely rouse him.

"I need you and Greene downtown immediately," Mueller said without preamble. "New case that requires your attention." His tone left no room for negotiation. "Be here in an hour."

The line went dead before she could respond. Morgan set the phone down and rubbed her eyes, the remnants of her nightmare still clinging to her like cobwebs. She rolled her shoulders, feeling the tension knotted between her shoulder blades. Three hours of fitful sleep wasn't nearly enough, but it was more than she'd expected after Cordell's visit.

"Derik," she said, gently shaking his shoulder. "Wake up. Mueller wants us downtown."

Derik stirred, instantly alert in the way only someone with years of field experience could manage. His green eyes opened, immediately assessing her face for signs of distress.

"What time is it?"

"Just after seven. We need to be there in an hour."

He nodded, sitting up and running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. "You okay?" he asked quietly, noticing the tension in her posture.

"Bad dream," Morgan admitted, already moving toward the bathroom. "The usual."

They moved through their morning routine with practiced efficiency, sharing the bathroom, moving around each other in the kitchen as coffee brewed. The domesticity of it might have been comforting on any other day. Today, it felt like the calm before a storm.

Morgan fed Skunk, her mind still processing Cordell's visit. She needed to tell Mueller, to warn him that Cordell had escalated from shadow tactics to direct confrontation. But first, she needed coffee and whatever semblance of normality she could manage.

"You think it's connected?" Derik asked as he poured coffee into travel mugs. "Mueller's call, coming right after Cordell's visit?"

Morgan considered the possibility. "Could be. Or it could be completely unrelated." She shrugged into her shoulder holster, the leather is well-worn and comfortable against her arms. "Either way, we'll find out soon enough."

Derik handed her a mug, his fingers brushing hers deliberately. "Whatever it is, we face it together."

The simple phrase—their unofficial mantra since reconnecting after her release from prison—steadied her. Morgan took a long sip of the scalding coffee, letting it burn away the last cobwebs of sleep and fear.

"Together," she agreed, checking her weapon one last time before sliding it into the holster.

Forty minutes later, they pulled into the parking garage beneath FBI headquarters in downtown Dallas. Morgan had insisted on taking separate vehicles—part security measure, part professional appearance. They might be partners in every sense now, but the Bureau still had its unspoken rules about fraternization.

The morning sunlight barely penetrated the concrete structure, casting long shadows between the parked vehicles. Morgan scanned the area out of habit, looking for unfamiliar cars, for people who didn't belong, for anything out of place. Cordell's visit had heightened her already substantial paranoia, leaving her hyperaware of potential threats.

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