Page 4 of For Mercy

As she neared the familiar stretch of forest, Morgan's heart rate quickened.She pulled off the road, gravel crunching beneath the tires as she brought the SUV to a stop.

For a long moment, she sat there, engine idling, staring into the darkness beyond her headlights.Then, with a deep breath, she killed the engine.

The night enveloped Morgan as she stepped out of the car, a cacophony of forest sounds assaulting her senses.Leaves rustled overhead, their whispers carried on a chilly breeze that nipped at her exposed skin.In the distance, an owl's mournful call pierced the air, sending a shiver down her spine.

Skunk's nails clicked against the gravel as he hopped out behind her, his muscular frame a comforting presence at her side.Morgan's hand instinctively found the grip of her holstered gun, its weight both reassuring and ominous.

"Stay close, boy," she murmured, clicking on her flashlight.The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating a narrow path into the woods.

With each step forward, the knot in Morgan's stomach tightened.The forest seemed to close in around her, unchanged yet somehow different.Memories lurked in every shadow, questions hung heavy in the air like mist.

"I don't like this," she whispered to Skunk, who looked up at her with attentive eyes."It feels...wrong.Like we're walking into something we can't undo."

The pitbull's only response was a soft whine, but it was enough to keep Morgan moving forward.Her free hand absently stroked his broad head as they picked their way through the underbrush.

"What if it's really him, Skunk?"Morgan's voice cracked slightly."What if he's been alive all this time?How do I even begin to process that?"

The trees seemed to lean in, as if listening to her doubts.Morgan pushed on, her mind racing with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.What could have driven her father into hiding?What danger was so great that he'd let his own daughter believe he was dead?

After what felt like an eternity of trekking through the dense forest, Morgan reached a familiar clearing.Her breath caught in her throat as recognition washed over her.This was the spot where she had fallen all those years ago, where her childhood innocence had shattered along with her ankle.

She stopped, her flashlight beam sweeping the area.The world around her fell silent, save for the rhythmic sound of Skunk's breathing beside her.Morgan strained her ears, listening for any sign of her father's presence.

"Dad?"she called out softly, her voice barely above a whisper."Are you here?"

The forest remained stubbornly quiet, offering no answers to her plea.Morgan's grip tightened on her flashlight, her other hand hovering near her holstered weapon.The silence stretched on, punctuated only by Skunk's steady panting and the pounding of her own heart in her ears.

Then—

A flicker of light caught Morgan's eye, drawing her attention to the far edge of the clearing.Her heart leapt into her throat as she saw a flashlight beam dancing between the trees, growing steadily brighter.Someone was approaching.

"Dad?"she called out again, louder this time, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and apprehension.

The light swung in her direction, momentarily blinding her.Morgan shielded her eyes, squinting against the glare.As the beam lowered, a figure emerged from the shadows, and Morgan's breath caught in her chest.

There he stood, barely ten feet away—her father, a man she'd believed dead.Morgan's flashlight beam settled on his face, illuminating features both familiar and foreign.It was him, undoubtedly, but time had left its mark.His once-dark hair was now streaked with gray, and a thick, unruly beard covered the lower half of his face.Deep lines etched his forehead and the corners of his eyes, speaking of years of hardship and worry.

"Morgan," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

She stared at him, frozen in place, her mind reeling.He looked leaner, almost gaunt, his clothes worn and ill-fitting.This was not the strong, confident man from her memories, but rather someone who seemed to have been running for a very long time.

"Is it really you?"Morgan managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.She wanted to rush forward, to touch him, to make sure he was real and not some cruel apparition conjured by her desperate mind.But caution held her back."How...how is this possible?"

Her father took a hesitant step forward, his hands raised slightly as if to show he meant no harm."I know you must have a thousand questions, Morgan.I promise I'll explain everything.But we can't stay here.”

Morgan's restraint crumbled.In three swift strides, she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around her father.The familiar scent of pine and leather enveloped her, triggering a flood of childhood memories.She clung to him, her fingers digging into the worn fabric of his jacket, as if afraid he might disappear again if she let go.

"Dad," she choked out, her voice muffled against his chest.Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision.The reality of his presence overwhelmed her senses.He was here, alive, his heart beating steadily against her cheek.

John's arms wrapped around her, hesitant at first, then tightening as he pulled her close."I'm sorry, Morgan," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion."I'm so sorry."

For a moment, Morgan allowed herself to be that little girl again, safe in her father's embrace.But as the initial shock began to wear off, a simmering anger rose within her.She pulled back, her hands still gripping his arms, and searched his weathered face.

"Why?"she demanded, her voice quavering with a mix of fury and hurt."Why did you let me believe you were dead?Do you have any idea what I've been through?"

John's eyes, so like her own, were filled with pain and regret."Morgan, I--"

"No," she cut him off, her voice rising."I mourned you.And all this time..."She released him abruptly, taking a step back.Her hand unconsciously moved to her holstered weapon, a habit born from years of distrust."Why now?Why reach out after all this time?"

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