Page 47 of For Wrath

"Harriet,"Morgan whispered, realization dawning on her. The hostage they had been tryingso desperately to save was right there, tied down just like her. A new wave ofdetermination surged through Morgan. She couldn't let Harriet suffer at thehands of this madman.

"Ah, you'venoticed our guest," John said, turning to face Morgan for the first timesince she had been restrained in the chair. His deformed, wrinkled visageloomed over her, but she refused to flinch, determined not to give him thesatisfaction of seeing her fear. "She's been eagerly awaiting yourarrival, Agent Cross."

"Get away fromher, you sick bastard," Morgan spat, her voice steady as she maintainedeye contact with John. He smiled at her defiance, clearly amused.

"Suchprotective instincts. Admirable, really," he mused, his eyes never leavinghers. "But misplaced. You see, I have no intention of harming dearHarriet. At least, not yet. First, we have some unfinished business to attendto."

Morgan glancedsideways at Harriet, who shook uncontrollably in her chair, tears streamingdown her face. The sight fueled Morgan's resolve, pushing aside the terror thatclawed at her insides. She had to find a way out of this nightmare, not justfor herself, but for Harriet too.

"Whateveryou think you're going to do to us, it won't work," Morgan said, her voicelow but unwavering. "Someone will find us. They'll stop you."

"By then, itwill be too late," John replied, his tone chillingly nonchalant. "Butdon't worry, Agent Cross. I promise you'll enjoy the process."

"Go tohell," Morgan shot back, her anger momentarily overpowering her fear.

John chuckled,savoring her defiance as he continued to prepare his instruments. Morgan's mindraced with plans of escape, each more desperate than the last. She knew thatshowing fear would only feed John's twisted desires, so she clung to her angerand determination, praying for a chance to break free and save Harriet from thesame gruesome fate that had befallen John's other victims.

"Let'sbegin, shall we?" John said, a sinister smile playing on his lips."I'll start with Harriet here to demonstrate what you should expect."He turned and walked over to the trembling woman, a scalpel gleaming in hishand.

"Extractingyour essence, your youth, will help me prolong my own vitality," heexplained as if lecturing an apprentice. "Isn't it wonderful? To be ableto live longer, stronger, more beautiful?"

Morgan clenchedher jaw, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're insane, John. Do youthink stealing someone's life force will make you younger? It's pathetic."

John merelyscoffed, completely unfazed by her words. "You'll see soon enough, AgentCross. You'll feel the power for yourself."

"Power?"Morgan spat. "What you're doing is disgusting. It's monstrous, and itwon't save you from your own twisted reflection."

For a moment, shethought she saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But it vanished almostinstantly, replaced by cold determination. With a swift motion, he raised thescalpel towards Harriet, who whimpered and squirmed in her restraints.

"Stop!"Morgan shouted, straining against her own bindings. She had to distract him,keep him talking while she searched for a way out. "John, listen to me.This won't give you the results you want. The pain, the suffering you inflicton others… that's the true ugliness inside you."

"Silence!"John snapped his grip on the scalpel tightening. "Your words mean nothing.I've heard them all before, from the other women who begged for mercy. Theydidn't sway me then, and they certainly won't now."

"Those otherwomen weren't FBI agents, John," Morgan said, her gaze locked on thescalpel as it hovered over Harriet's pale skin. "They didn't have a backupon the way or a team of people searching for them right now."

"Emptythreats won't save either of you," John sneered, drawing the scalpelcloser to Harriet's throat. "It's just you, me, and sweet Harriet here. Noone is coming for you."

Harriet's eyeswidened with terror as she caught sight of John's deformed face, and sheinstinctively recoiled from him. Her reaction seemed to strike a nerve deepwithin John as his face contorted in rage, and he dropped the scalpel,clattering to the floor.

"Stupidgirl!" he snarled, his voice shaking with fury. "You think you canjudge me? You have no idea what I've been through!"

Morgan saw herchance—John's weakness was his own twisted appearance. She knew that beneaththe layers of scarred flesh, he longed for the beauty he believed he couldsteal from others. As he raged at Harriet, Morgan shifted her head subtly,working to loosen the restraints holding her in place. From the corner of her eye,she spotted another scalpel resting on a nearby table, tantalizingly close.

CHAPTERTWENTY NINE

The sun dippedlow in the sky, casting long shadows across the abandoned warehouse as Derikstepped out of his car. His heart pounded in his chest, and a sick feeling gnawedat the pit of his stomach. Morgan was supposed to be back at the precinct bynow, but she'd never shown up. The tracking device on her shirt said she wasthere.

"Dammit,Morgan," he muttered under his breath, scanning the desolate area for anysign of her. He couldn't shake the sinking feeling that something had goneterribly wrong.

Derik's eyeslocked onto a small glint of light in the dirt, and he quickly made his wayover to it. Kneeling down, he brushed away the soil to reveal the tiny,blinking tracking device. It was no longer attached to Morgan's shirt, justlying there discarded and useless.

"Shit,"he whispered, balling his fists tightly. He knew he shouldn't have let her goalone. Even if John Pesci demanded it, they should have found another way. Now,she was missing, and he was left with nothing but a cold, empty warehouse and agrowing sense of dread.

"Where areyou, Morgan?" he asked aloud, frustration seeping into his voice."What happened to you?"

He scanned thewarehouse one more time, looking for any clues or signs that might lead him toher. But there was nothing—just the hollow shell of a building and the distantrustle of wind stirring up dust.

"Think,Derik. Think," he urged himself, his mind racing as he tried to piecetogether what could have happened to her. Was she still inside, hiding fromPesci? Or had she gone off in search of him on her own?

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