Page 30 of For Blood

The investigators still hadn't grasped the pattern, still fumbled in darkness.The killer knew this only added to the thrill, made the game more engaging.Soon enough, they would see the full picture, but by then it would be too late.The finale would already be in motion.

Their attention settled on another headline: "Twin Sister Demands Justice After Brutal Murder—Killer Still at Large."The killer studied the accompanying photo of the twin, so identical to their victim.The symmetry pleased them.The twin's quest for justice was really a hunger for vengeance—something the killer understood intimately.Both were driven by loss, but only one had seized the power to reshape their world.

Finally, they picked up a special clipping, one worn soft from countless readings.This next target would be different—more personal, more significant.The others had been carefully calculated steps, building to this moment.This victim had tried to disappear, to start fresh as if the past could be so easily erased.But the killer had found them, and soon they would play their role in the grand design, willing or not.

The killer carefully folded the final clipping and slipped it into their pocket.This wasn't merely about murder—it was about reclaiming control, about righting an ancient wrong.It was about justice in its purest, most primal form.And they would have it, no matter the cost.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A cold, wet nose pressed against Morgan's arm, jolting her from the depths of sleep.She groaned, her eyelids heavy as lead as she forced them open.Skunk's expectant face greeted her, his tail wagging with barely contained excitement.

"Alright, alright," Morgan mumbled, her voice thick with exhaustion."I hear you, buddy."

The pit bull let out a low whine, his brown eyes pleading.Morgan couldn't help but smile, despite the bone-deep weariness that clung to her like a second skin.Skunk had been her constant through it all—before prison, after, and now.His loyalty was unwavering, even if his timing left something to be desired.

"You know," she muttered, reaching out to scratch behind his ears, "some dogs let their owners sleep in once in a while."

Skunk's only response was to nudge her arm again, more insistently this time.

Next to her, Derik stirred, his face buried in the pillow as he mumbled something unintelligible.Morgan glanced at him, a pang of guilt twisting in her gut.She'd been shutting him out lately, too focused on her own quest for justice to let him in.But he was still here, by her side, weathering the storm with her.

The sheets were warm, a stark contrast to the cool air of the bedroom.For a moment, Morgan allowed herself to sink back into the comfort, her eyes drifting closed.Just five more minutes...

But Skunk wasn't having it.His cold nose pressed firmly against her cheek, accompanied by a huff of warm breath that made her wrinkle her nose.

"Jesus, Skunk," Morgan grumbled, finally pushing herself upright."Your breath could wake the dead."

As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, the exhaustion hit her full force.Every muscle ached, a reminder of yesterday's relentless pace.The weight of it all—the case, her past, the looming specter of corruption within the FBI—settled on her shoulders like a physical presence.

"You okay?"Derik's sleep-roughened voice came from behind her.

Morgan turned, meeting his concerned gaze.The worry in his green eyes made her chest tighten."Yeah," she lied, forcing a small smile."Just tired.Skunk's impatient for breakfast."

Derik nodded, but Morgan could see he wasn't convinced.She stood, stretching her arms above her head, wincing as her joints popped.The motion caused her shirt to ride up, revealing the edge of a tattoo on her hip—a reminder of her time behind bars, of the years stolen from her.

"I've been thinking," Derik said, sitting up and running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair."About the case.The witnesses changing their stories...it feels like there's more to it."

Morgan nodded, her mind already racing."I know.It's like they're all hiding something.But what?"

"Maybe it's not what they're hiding," Derik suggested."Maybe it's who they're protecting."

The implication hung in the air between them.Morgan's eyes narrowed as she considered the possibility."You think they knew the killer?"

Before Derik could respond, Skunk let out another impatient whine, reminding them of his presence.Morgan couldn't help but chuckle, the sound breaking the tension in the room.

"Alright, drama queen," she said, patting Skunk's head."Let's get you fed before you waste away to nothing."

As she made her way to the kitchen, Morgan's mind whirred with possibilities.Witnesses changing stories, a killer mimicking old crimes, the specter of Andrew Keller looming over it all.And beneath it all, the constant undercurrent of her own quest for justice.

She glanced back at Derik, still sitting on the bed, his brow furrowed in thought.Maybe it was time to let him in, to share the burden she'd been carrying alone for so long.

But first, breakfast for Skunk.One step at a time.

Morgan opened the cabinet, the familiar creak of the hinges punctuating the morning silence.As she reached for Skunk's food, her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the canister, and a sudden wave of déjà vu washed over her.How many mornings had she performed this exact ritual?Before prison, after prison, and now—in the midst of a case that seemed to be spiraling in complexity with each passing hour.

"You know," Derik's voice drifted in from the bedroom, "I've been thinking about Keller."

Morgan poured the kibble into Skunk's bowl, the clatter of dry food hitting metal a stark contrast to the heaviness settling in her chest."What about him?"

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