Page 23 of For Rage

No, the police had been ordered to keep a close eye on all of them, and apparently, this one had an intruder.

Morgan pushed past the row of police with Derik right behind her, stopping at the entrance of the maze. "Have you found him yet?" she asked an officer.

"Not yet," he said. "We sent a team in, but this maze is huge—we were standing by for more orders."

"Good, then you're with us," Morgan said, twirling her finger in the air, gathering three policemen with her. She nodded at Derik, hoping they could put their little argument earlier on ice so they could catch this son of a bitch.

If someone was breaking into the maze, then Morgan had a feeling it wasn't just for fun. Maybe it really was the Maze Killer, and Jim Alba was innocent after all—guilty only of being a terrible husband and father but not necessarily a killer.

Morgan didn't know, but she intended to find out. The morning sun scorched down on her as she made her way through the maze, leading the team into the unknown.

The team was on high alert, but Morgan could tell they were finding it hard to keep their eyes open, even as they moved forward. The maze was infuriating in its complexity, and it was disorienting as well. It would be easy for anyone to get lost in there.

And that was exactly what Morgan was afraid of.

Morgan kept her eyes open, her hands ready to pull out her gun at a moment's notice. The air smelled of fresh soil and green plants—and blood. It was a scent that Morgan knew all too well. She glanced at Derik, who gave her a knowing nod.

Morgan's heart sped up, her body tense as she led the group deeper into the maze. She bit her lip, keeping to the right of the pathway, her hand hovering just above her gun. She could feel her pulse beating in her throat, her skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

The sound of their footsteps seemed to echo off all sides of the hedges, as if they were being followed. Morgan turned around, but there was no one there. The prickle of anger made her skin erupt into goose bumps. She knew this killer would show up, she'd just had a feeling. But she didn't know where.

She looked up, realizing there was a long split in the hedge, facing a narrow pathway.

And there, up ahead, was a man.

A tall, skinny man looked back at them in shock, giving them no time to even process it. Before Morgan could react, he dashed away.

She ran after him.

"Cross, hold up!" Derik shouted, but Morgan sprinted ahead, leaving the rest of the team behind. During her time in prison, she'd mastered her speed, having spent afternoons outside in the field, doing laps the entire time, at every chance she got. It was the only saving grace in prison; the fact that she could still work on her body and make herself stronger and faster than she ever was before.

Morgan chased the suspect through the maze, jumping over low walls and ducking under high branches. The man was fast, but Morgan was faster. She could see him up ahead, his long strides covering the distance between them in a second.

Just as Morgan was about to catch up with him, he stopped abruptly, pointing his gun straight at her. His eyes were wide and wild, and his finger flexed around the trigger. Fear flooded through Morgan's veins as she stared down the barrel of the gun.

It was a sobering moment—a reminder that anything could go wrong and end her life at any time, especially in this line of work.

But the man didn't shoot, not yet, giving Morgan a chance to compose herself. She'd been here before. She could handle it.

"Drop the weapon," she said, pointing her own gun back at him.

"I-I didn't do anything!" he shouted. "I was just—I was just following instructions!"

"What instructions?" Morgan said, her voice hard.

"I-I don't know," the man said.

"Who sent you?" Morgan said.

"I was just given instructions to go in the maze and wait for instructions," the man said, sweat trickling down his face.

Morgan frowned. "Who gave you these instructions?"

"I don't know!" the man wailed. "This isn't my fault, you can't—you can’t do this! Please, just let me go.”

Morgan stared at him, her jaw clenched. She knew that if she let him go, he’d just be back out there doing the same thing, or worse. No, she couldn't let that happen.

"Drop your weapon," Morgan said, her voice cold and unwavering. "Now."

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