Page 32 of For Wrath

"Derik,"he replied, its tone cold and detached. "You know what you have todo."

"Please,"Derik pleaded, clenching his jaw. "I won't do it. I can't."

"Yourloyalty is commendable," the man said with a sigh. "But misplaced.This isn't about you, Derik. It's about protecting her. You remember our deal,right?"

Derik's chesttightened, the weight of his secrets pressing down on him like a vice. He knewthe man was right – there was a price on Morgan's head, a threat that loomedover her like a dark cloud.

"Goodbye,"Derik said through gritted teeth, hanging up the call. He threw the phone ontothe bedside table, its impact reverberating through the empty room.

As much as hewanted to deny it, he couldn't ignore the truth any longer. Things had gone toofar; drastic measures would need to be taken if he wanted to keep Morgan safe.And wasn't that the very reason he got involved in this case, to begin with?

"Damnit," he muttered, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He stared atthe ceiling, willing the answers to come to him, but all he found was the samesuffocating silence that filled the room.

He could feel itin his bones – the world around them was closing in, and Derik knew he couldn'tkeep running from the truth forever. He needed to act, and soon.

"Forgive me,Morgan," he whispered as a single tear escaped his eye. At that moment, hemade a silent vow to himself: no matter the cost, he would do whatever it tookto protect her… even if it meant sacrificing everything they had builttogether.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Evening lightfiltered through the blinds, casting a hazy glow over Morgan's living room. Shesat on her couch, fingers tapping away at the keyboard of her laptop. Skunk,her loyal dog, lay curled up beside her, his head resting on her thigh.

Morgan's mindkept drifting back to her confrontation with Derik earlier that day. The hurtin his eyes when she accused him of keeping secrets gnawed at her conscience.And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was still hiding something fromher.

As she continuedher search for Blanchard, a nagging thought crept into her mind: Derik didn'tknow that she had accidentally killed Darren La Roux. He only knew that theex-con was dead. Had she given herself away during their argument? Would Derikput two and two together?

"Damnit," she whispered, rubbing her temples. It was impossible to focus withall these doubts swirling in her head. For all she knew, maybe Derik had been awarethat Darren was coming after her that night.

The room feltclaustrophobic, closing in around her like a vice. She knew she couldn't takethis information to the FBI – they'd never believe her over Derik.

"Stupid,stupid!" Morgan berated herself, slamming her fist down on the couchcushion. Skunk stirred, lifting his head to look at her with sleepy, concernedeyes.

"Sorry,boy," she murmured, scratching behind his ears. "I just can't get myhead straight."

She took a deepbreath and closed her eyes, trying to steady her racing thoughts. SteveBlanchard was still out there, and she needed to find him before he struckagain. That had to be her priority now, not her fractured relationship withDerik.

"Alright,let's try this again," she told herself, opening her eyes and refocusingon the laptop screen. She scanned through pages of search results, determinedto find a lead on Steve Blanchard, no matter how tenuous.

Morgan began tofeel the weight of her exhaustion pressing down on her. Morgan's heart hammeredin her chest, threatening to break free. Her hands shook as she scrolledthrough endless search results on her laptop.

"Get ittogether, Morgan," she muttered under her breath, pushing away the anxietyand paranoia that had taken hold of her. She needed to focus on finding SteveBlanchard's true identity.

Skunk let out asoft whine, sensing her distress. She reached down and gently stroked his fur,seeking comfort from his warm presence. "I'm okay, boy," shewhispered, but her voice wavered, betraying her uncertainty.

She re-focused onfinding Steve. Morgan sat hunched over her laptop, the blue glow of the screencasting eerie shadows across her face. Her fingers danced across the keyboardas she scoured through plastic surgery clinics' websites and social mediaaccounts.

"Comeon," she muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning page after page forany sign of a new hire. The photograph Matt provided was burned into hermemory, that face haunting her every waking moment. She knew she had to findhim, but he was proving to be an elusive ghost in a sea of well-groomed faces.

"Skunk,buddy, we're looking for someone who's hiding in plain sight," she saidsoftly, reaching down to stroke the dog's soft fur. He responded with a gentlesnuffle, his tail thumping against the couch cushion.

Her searchcontinued, growing more frantic. Morgan's frustration mounted, her jaw clenchedtight as she fought back the urge to hurl her laptop across the room. But then,something caught her eye - a post from a clinic called 'Be You Beauty Clinic.'

"Welcome tothe team, Dr. Terrance Reid!" the caption read, accompanied by a photo ofa man with a clean-shaven face, a full head of brown hair, and piercing blueeyes. For a moment, Morgan's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't be sure, butthere was a nagging familiarity about him.

Morgan studiedthe photo of Dr. Terrance Reid; her brow furrowed in concentration. There wasno denying the resemblance between him and the man in the photograph Matt hadgiven her. But with a full head of brown hair, blue eyes, and a cleanly shavenface, he looked so different from the bald, brown-eyed, circle-bearded SteveBlanchard they were hunting.

Could itreally be him? she wondered, her fingers tapping ananxious rhythm on the edge of her laptop. She couldn't shake the naggingfeeling that something about Dr. Terrance Reid was familiar, as if she had seenhis face before but couldn't quite place it.

"Alright,let's dig a little deeper," Morgan muttered to herself, pulling out thephotograph Matt had provided. Holding it up to the screen, she compared the twoimages side by side, searching for any similarities that could confirm hersuspicions.

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