Page 4 of For Blood

As the seconds ticked by, Morgan felt a mix of emotions churning inside her—hope, fear, anger, longing.She had come so far, risked so much.To leave now empty-handed seemed unthinkable.

"Come on, Dad," she whispered, her voice barely audible."Don't let me down.Not again."

Morgan's fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against her thigh as she paced the small clearing, her eyes darting to every shadow and rustling leaf.The minutes crawled by, each one stretching her nerves tighter.She checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time—still no signal.

"Dammit," she muttered, shoving the useless device back into her pocket.

A pit formed in her stomach as doubt crept in, poisonous and insidious.Was this all just an elaborate hoax?Some sick joke at her expense?Or worse—had she walked right into a trap, leaving herself vulnerable and isolated?

The tattoos on her arms seemed to itch, a reminder of the years stolen from her.She'd been played before, and it had cost her everything.The thought that it might be happening again made her blood boil.

"I swear to God," she growled, kicking at the gnarled root that had once broken her ankle, "if this is some kind of set-up..."

But even as the anger flared, a small, fragile part of her still clung to hope.What if her father really was out there, watching, waiting?What if he had a good reason for all this secrecy?

"Dad," she called out again, her voice cracking slightly."If you're here, please.Just...talk to me."

Only silence answered.

Morgan ran a hand through her dark hair, frustration mounting."This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself."I'm an FBI agent, for Christ's sake.I should be smarter than this."

She pulled out her phone one last time, ready to admit defeat.To her surprise, a single bar of signal flickered to life.Without hesitation, she dialed Derik's number, her heart pounding as it rang.

"Morgan?"Derik's voice came through, tinny but blessedly familiar."Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, relief washing over her."But he's not here.I think...I think I've been played, Derik."

There was a pause on the other end.When Derik spoke again, his voice was steady, reassuring."Just get back to the car, Morgan.We'll figure this out together."

Morgan nodded, even though he couldn't see her."Yeah.Yeah, okay.I'm on my way back."

As she ended the call, Morgan cast one final glance around the clearing.The forest suddenly felt colder, more ominous.Whatever answers she'd hoped to find here, it was clear they weren't forthcoming.At least, not today.Morgan pocketed her phone, her fingers grazing the cool metal of her gun holster.The gesture, once comforting, now felt hollow.What good was a weapon against ghosts and memories?

She took a step forward, leaves crunching beneath her boots.The sound echoed unnaturally in the eerie stillness of the forest.Morgan's eyes darted from tree to tree, her instincts on high alert.Something felt off.

"Get it together, Cross, there’s no one here," she muttered, trying to shake off the creeping sense of unease.But her words sounded flat, unconvincing even to her own ears.

As she walked, her mind raced.Why would her father lure her out here only to stand her up?If he was alive, why the secrecy?And if this was a trap, why hadn't it sprung?The questions swirled in her mind, mixing with memories of her time in prison.The isolation, the constant vigilance, the feeling of being watched.It all came rushing back, making her skin prickle.

A twig snapped somewhere to her left.Morgan froze, her hand instinctively moving to her weapon.She held her breath, straining to hear over the pounding of her heart.

Nothing.

Slowly, she exhaled, forcing herself to relax.Just an animal, she told herself.

As she resumed walking, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.The forest, once familiar and almost comforting, now felt alien and hostile.Shadows seemed to shift at the corners of her vision, and every rustle of leaves sounded like footsteps.Here, in this forest where childhood memories collided with adult fears, she felt more vulnerable than she had in years.The tattoos that had become her armor, the tough exterior she'd cultivated in prison – none of it mattered here.

Something about the stillness felt wrong now, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

But one thing was certain—Morgan’s father wasn’t here.Maybe he was never going to be.

CHAPTER TWO

The gravel crunched under the tires as Morgan pulled the truck into the driveway, the morning sun casting long shadows across the lawn.She cut the engine, her body heavy with exhaustion and disappointment.The events of the night replayed in her mind like a broken record: the letter, the forest, the gnarled root where she'd tripped as a child, the deafening silence where she'd hoped to find answers.

As she reached for the door handle, a familiar bark pierced the air.Skunk, her loyal pitbull, bounded to the front door of the house, tail wagging furiously.His enthusiasm was a stark contrast to the weight in her chest, but Morgan couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at her lips.

"At least someone's happy to see us," she muttered, glancing at Derik.

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