Page 2 of For Mercy

"But," the mechanical voice finally continued, each word slow and deliberate, "you will have a chance to save your own life."

Hawthorne's breath caught in his throat.Save his life?The implication sent a chill down his spine.This was more than a simple kidnapping or act of revenge.This was life or death.

"What do you mean?"he demanded, fighting to keep his voice steady."What kind of chance?"

The voice didn't respond immediately, leaving Hawthorne to grapple with the weight of his situation.His mind raced, years of legal experience kicking into high gear.This was a trial, yes, but not one governed by any law he recognized.A test, then?But of what?

"Explain yourself!"Hawthorne shouted, frustration and fear bleeding into his tone."You can't just—"

"Silence," the voice cut him off, its mechanical timbre somehow more menacing than before."You will speak when spoken to, Judge Hawthorne.Or have you forgotten the rules of your own courtroom?"

Hawthorne clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.The sting of pain helped ground him, clearing his thoughts.This was a trap, he realized.Every word, every reaction was being judged.But by whom?And to what end?

As the silence descended once more, Hawthorne forced himself to take slow, measured breaths.He couldn't see his judge or jury, but he could feel their presence, watching from the shadows.One thing was painfully clear: the verdict had already been decided.Whatever game this was, whatever sick form of justice his captor sought, Hawthorne knew he was already considered guilty.

He closed his eyes, steeling himself for what was to come.Years on the bench had taught him to remain impartial, to weigh evidence carefully before passing judgment.Now, he found himself on the other side, facing an unseen arbiter who seemed to have no interest in fairness or due process.

"Very well," Hawthorne said, his voice low but steady."I'm listening.What is this chance you're offering?"

CHAPTER ONE

Special Agent Morgan Cross had been certain her father had died while she was in prison, serving a ten-year-long sentence for a crime she never committed.

And yet as she stood in her living room, with her partner Derik Greene at her side and her Pitbull, Skunk, staring up at her with his big brown eyes, there was no mistaking the voice on the other end of the line.

“Dad?"Her voice was barely above a whisper.

The response made her blood run cold.A voice she thought she'd never hear again.A voice that belonged to a ghost.

"Morgan, it's me."

Her knees buckled, and she gripped the back of the couch for support.Beside her, Derik's brow furrowed with concern.At her feet, Skunk's ears perked up, sensing the sudden tension in the air.

"Dad…" The word felt foreign on her tongue, laced with disbelief and a hint of anger."How...is this really you?"

"Yes, sweetheart.It's me."His voice was gruff, older, but unmistakably his.

Morgan's mind raced, a torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.How could this be possible?She had mourned him, carried the weight of his loss.And now, here he was, speaking to her as if no time had passed at all.

"I don't understand," she managed, her free hand clenching into a fist."How can you be alive?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, filled with the weight of unspoken truths."It's complicated, Morgan.I can't explain everything over the phone.But I need you to trust me."

Trust.The word echoed in her mind, bitter and sharp.How could she trust a man who had let her believe he was dead?She'd gotten out of prison barely a year ago and had been living under the impression that her father was dead.And since then, she'd been through hell.After getting out of prison, Morgan uncovered a conspiracy within the FBI—a conspiracy that had involved Richard Cordell, a former high-ranking member of the FBI, taking part in framing Morgan.She'd found out that it had all linked back to her father, who had hidden his own identity as an FBI agent from her.But her father had been dead.Morgan had been navigating this alone… and yet here was her father.

Derik moved closer, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder.Right—Morgan hadn’t been fully alone.She’d had Derik.She could feel the question in his touch, see the worry etched on his face.But she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.Not now, when her world was crumbling around her.

"Why now?"she asked, her voice stronger now, edged with the steel that had kept her going through years in prison and the relentless pursuit of justice afterward."Why come back after all this time?"

Her father sighed, a sound heavy with regret and something else...fear?"Because you're in danger, Morgan.And I can’t live anymore knowing I haven’t told you the truth.”

The words hung in the air, ominous and foreboding.Morgan's grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles turning white.She thought of Richard Cordell, of the corruption that ran deep in the FBI, of Thomas's death.Thomas Grady—the man whom she’d found out may be her half-brother.Another secret, hidden by her father.How much did her father know?How long had he been watching from the shadows?

"So tell me now," she pressed, her investigator's instincts kicking in despite the emotional turmoil.

"I can't say more now.It's not safe."There was urgency in his voice now."Morgan, I know you have questions.I know you're angry.But right now, I need you to listen to me."

She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.Skunk whined softly, pressing his head against her leg in a gesture of comfort.She reached down absently to scratch behind his ears, grateful for the familiar touch.

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