Page 42 of For Fear

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins. "Where's Tara Lin?"

“My name is Henry Adler.” The man chuckled, a low, sinister sound that echoed through the empty house. "Tara's not here anymore," he said, his tone almost mocking. "But don't worry, Agent Cross. She's not dead. Not yet, anyway."

Morgan's grip tightened on her gun, her finger hovering over the trigger. "What do you want?" she asked, her mind racing as she tried to assess the situation, to find a way out of this mess.

The man took a step forward, his movements slow and deliberate. "What I want," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "is for you to remember my name. Henry Adler. Because I'm going to be the one who brings you down, Agent. I'm going to be the one who exposes all your secrets, all your lies."

Morgan's blood ran cold at his words, a sense of dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She had no idea who this Henry Adler was or what he meant by her secrets and lies. But she knew one thing for certain: she couldn't let him get away.

She lunged forward, her gun aimed at his chest. But Adler was quick, his reflexes honed by years of practice. He dodged her attack, his fist slamming into her jaw with a sickening crack.

Morgan stumbled back, her vision blurring as pain exploded through her skull. But she didn't have time to recover, didn't have time to catch her breath. Adler was on her in an instant, his hands wrapping around her throat, squeezing the life out of her.

She gasped for air, her lungs burning as she struggled against his grip. But Adler was strong, his fingers like steel bands aroundher neck. Black spots danced before her eyes, her consciousness fading as the world around her grew dim.

But Morgan Cross wasn’t going easy. No, she was a fighter, had been all her life--from the schoolyard bullies in her youth, through the hardened criminals in prison, to the corrupt agents in the FBI. She thought of Derik, of their promises to each other, of Tara, and the need to bring her back safely.

She gritted her teeth against the pain and managed to get a hand up, fingers searching desperately for something she could use as a weapon. Her hand closed around one of the scattered chess pieces from the board - a miniature knight. With an effort that left her gasping, she jabbed the sharp point into Adler's thigh. He yelped in surprise and pain, loosening his grip on her neck.

The struggle was fierce, a desperate tangle of limbs and raw aggression in the cramped confines of Tara's living room. Morgan grappled with Adler, her muscles straining as she fought to keep her gun out of his grasp. His eyes were wild, feral, with a crazed intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

"You don't understand!" Adler snarled, his fingers clawing at her arm. "They wasted their potential, squandered their gifts. They deserved to be punished!"

Morgan gritted her teeth, twisting her body to break his grip. "And you appointed yourself judge, jury, and executioner?" She slammed her elbow into his ribs, satisfaction surging through her as he grunted in pain.

They crashed against the wall, a framed picture shattering on impact. Adler's breath was hot against her neck, his desperation palpable. But Morgan had spent ten years in prison, had honed her body into a weapon. She wasn't about to let this man, this murderer, win.

With a burst of strength, she slammed him face-first against the wall, her forearm pinning him in place. Adler struggled, hismuscles straining against her hold, but Morgan was relentless. She kicked his legs apart, her knee pressing into the back of his thigh.

"It's over, Adler," she growled, reaching for her handcuffs. "You're done."

He let out a frantic, guttural laugh. "You think this ends with me? There are others out there, others who see the truth. The wasted potential, the squandered brilliance. They'll carry on my work."

Morgan's jaw clenched as she snapped the cuffs around his wrists, the metal biting into his skin. She yanked him back, shoving him to the floor. "Then we'll find them, too. We'll stop anyone who thinks they have the right to play God."

She stood over him, her gun trained on his prone form. In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder with each passing second. Backup was on the way, but Morgan knew the real battle was just beginning.

Because Henry Adler was right about one thing: there were others out there, others who believed as he did. And she wouldn't rest until every last one of them was brought to justice.

The front door burst open, a flood of officers pouring into the house. Derik led the charge, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him—Morgan standing over Adler, her gun steady in her hands, the killer sprawled on the floor in handcuffs.

"Morgan," Derik breathed, holstering his weapon. "Are you alright?"

She nodded curtly, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. "I'm fine. He's secure."

Derik knelt beside Adler, checking the cuffs before hauling him to his feet. The killer's face was blank, his eyes distant, as if he'd retreated into some dark corner of his mind. Derik passed him off to a pair of waiting officers, who marched him out of the house and into the night.

Morgan watched them go, a strange mix of relief and unease settling in her gut. It was over, but at what cost? How many lives had been shattered, how many futures cut short, because of one man's twisted obsession?

She holstered her gun, her hands trembling slightly as the rush of the fight began to fade. Derik was at her side in an instant, his hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and gentle. "You did it. You got him."

Morgan shook her head, her gaze still fixed on the door where Adler had disappeared. "But how many more are out there, Derik? How many more broken geniuses, waiting to be 'saved'?"

Derik sighed, his grip tightening on her shoulder. "We'll find them, Morgan. We'll stop them, just like we stopped Adler."

She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust in the strength of their partnership, their shared commitment to justice. But the doubts lingered, whispering in the back of her mind.

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