Page 5 of Forbidden

"Derik?" Morgan's voice was firm, every syllable demanding an explanation.

He hesitated, eyes locked with hers, before the words tumbled out. "I saw you. With Thomas Grady."

The room seemed to tilt as her mind raced. She could taste the bitter tang of betrayal sharp on her tongue. He had followed her, shadowed her steps when she had been clear—painfully so—that this path was hers to tread alone.

"Derik," she spat out his name like a curse. "You were following me?"

Her heart pounded in her chest, anger boiling beneath her skin as she confronted him. His intrusion was a violation, a tear in the delicate fabric of trust they'd been weaving together since her return.

"I needed to know you were safe," Derik said, but the excuse fell flat to Morgan's ears.

"Safe?" The word echoed mockingly around them. "You think this is about safety? I told you, Derik, I can handle my own battles."

Morgan’s pulse hammered in her temples as she stared down at Derik, his form outlined by the dim light filtering through the window. He shifted, a silent language of anxiety that spoke volumes in the quiet of her living room.

She noted the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands clasped and unclasped as if grappling with invisible restraints. His confession came haltingly, each word weighted with an earnest gravity she hadn't seen in him before.

"I love you, Morgan. That's why I followed you tonight. Not to spy, not to question your capabilities, but because the thought of something happening to you..." He trailed off, his gaze unwavering.

Love. The word echoed in her mind, reverberating against the hard, protective shell she’d built around herself. She’d known Derik cared for her, in the way partners did after years of shared dangers and close calls. But love? That was a vulnerability she hadn’t been prepared to face, not with the ghosts of her past still clawing at her.

Morgan found herself momentarily adrift, caught in a current of emotions she'd long since dammed. Her heart urged her to step forward, to bridge the gap that duty and fear had forged between them. Yet, she hesitated, her instincts screaming that to lean on someone else was to risk collapse.

"Derik," she started, her voice betraying none of the turmoil that churned inside her. "This isn’t about us." She took a breath, steadying herself. "It's about taking down down those corrupt enough to stand with the man who framed me. Who blackmailed you. Nothing else matters."

But even as she spoke, the air around her felt charged with a new tension, one that couldn't be ignored or rationalized away. The stark truth of his words lingered, unsettling in its simplicity. He loved her. And that realization alone threatened to unravel the tightly wound cord of her resolve.

Morgan stood, her body rigid, a tempest of emotions raging beneath the surface. Derik's eyes searched hers, imploring her to understand, but she was lost in the labyrinth of his confession. The silence stretched taut between them, loaded with words unspoken and feelings untamed.

"Derik," she said at last, her voice steady despite the chaos within. "You need to leave." Her words cut through the room, sharp and unyielding. "I’m sorry. We can talk later. I need some time."

Confusion flashed across Derik's face, replaced quickly by a pained acceptance. He nodded slowly, the movement heavy with the weight of her dismissal. "Okay, Morgan," he replied, his voice low. "If that's what you need."

He stood, the lines of his body speaking a resignation he didn't voice. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned towards the door, each step seeming to draw him further from her reach.

The click of the door closing behind him resonated like the final note of a symphony, leaving Morgan in the sudden stillness of the aftermath. She sagged slightly, the adrenaline that had fueled her defiance seeping away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

With Derik gone, the house felt larger, emptier. Skunk, sensing the shift in mood, padded over to her, nuzzling her hand with his wet nose. Morgan allowed herself a small smile, scratching behind his ears, grateful for the uncomplicated comfort he offered.

She sank into the couch, Skunk settling at her feet, his warm presence a silent balm. The room was dark, shadows clinging to the corners, matching the duskiness of her thoughts. Derik's declaration hung in the air, an invisible specter that refused to be banished by mere distance.

***

Morgan's eyes flickered open to the dim light of dawn seeping through her bedroom curtains. She lay still for a moment, her body heavy with a sleep that had been fraught and restless. The bed beside her was cold, untouched since Derik had left the previous night. The sense of his absence was acute, and with it came a tide of regret.

She sat up, the linens falling from her shoulders, the cool air of the morning raising goosebumps on her skin. The events of the night before replayed in her mind—the confrontation, Derik's unexpected admission, her own harsh dismissal. She could almost hear the gravel crunch beneath his retreating footsteps, each one echoing the words he had left behind. Words spoken out of concern. Love.

Morgan swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet meeting the floor with a soft thud. She had always prided herself on her independence, on her ability to shoulder her burdens alone. But as she mulled over Derik's confession, the fortress she had built around herself began to show its cracks. He had not followed her to control or manipulate; he had done so because he cared, perhaps more than she had realized.

The thought twisted in her gut, an unwelcome intrusion into her carefully cultivated solitude. She had kept Derik at arm's length, convinced it was for his protection, yet here she was, grappling with the weight of his sincerity. It was a frustrating paradox, one that threatened to undermine the walls she had constructed to safeguard not just him but herself as well.

As she stood and made her way to the window, pulling back the curtain to let the burgeoning light flood the room, Morgan's thoughts drifted to darker times. Times when Derik's life had been leveraged against her by Cordell's ruthless pawns. He had been coerced into spying on her, forced to betray her trust or risk harm coming to those he loved. That betrayal had cost him dearly—his marriage had crumbled, and he had sent his ex-wife and son far away, beyond the reach of those who might use them as pawns again.

The memory stung, a reminder of the dangers they both faced in this tangled web of corruption and vengeance. It was a past that bound them together, even as Morgan fought to keep distance between them. As the light grew stronger, casting long shadows across the floor, she knew that understanding Derik's motives did not make reconciling them with her own any easier. She had survived ten years in prison by relying on no one but herself. To change that now felt like stepping off a precipice into the unknown.

Morgan sighed, the weight of her thoughts anchoring her to the bed for a moment longer. With a deliberate effort, she swung her legs over the edge and stood up. The room was silent, save for the low hum of the air conditioning fighting the Texas heat that even autumn could not fully quell. Her muscles were tight with tension, her mind churning with strategies and contingencies. Richard Cordell, a specter from her past, now loomed as a tangible threat in her present. He had played dirty before, and there was no doubt he would do it again, his network of loyalists both vast and shadowed.

She padded across the cool hardwood floor, her tattoos—a tapestry of her trials—shifted with each movement. Morgan knew this game of cat and mouse required more than just physical prowess; it demanded cunning and an intimate knowledge of the enemy. She needed to anticipate Cordell's moves, dismantle his power from within, all the while protecting those caught in the crossfire. Derik, especially, who’d already paid dearly for their shared history. It was a delicate balance, and one wrong step could be lethal.

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