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"Skunk," she whispered, stroking his soft fur, "I have to stay strong. I can't let myself get tangled up in someone else's problems when I'm barely holding it together myself."
Skunk lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting hers as if he understood the gravity of her words. He let out a quiet huff and nuzzled closer to her, offering silent comfort.
"Thanks, buddy," she murmured, her hand continuing its gentle path through his fur. "You always know how to make me feel better."
The room was filled with the faint hum of the television, background noise meant to drown out the emptiness that threatened to engulf her. Images flickered across the screen, but she paid them no mind, her thoughts consumed by the events of the day.
She knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges, new obstacles to overcome. But for now, she would allow herself this moment of peace, wrapped in the warmth of her companion and the familiar scent of home.
The low hum of the television filled the room, casting a dim glow on Skunk's sleeping form. Morgan stared at the flickering screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere - mulling over her conversation with Derik and the emotional weight it carried. She absently stroked Skunk's fur, finding comfort in his warmth beside her.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, cutting through her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile for the first time that day. It was Thomas.
"Hey, Thomas," she answered, her voice softening. "It's good to hear from you."
"Hey, Morgan," he replied, the sound of his voice like a balm for her frayed nerves. "I've got some news. I managed to hack into the FBI database you mentioned, and I think I might know something about who framed you."
Morgan's heart raced at his words, hope surging within her. She tightened her grip on the phone, her knuckles turning white.
"Tell me everything," she urged, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Unfortunately, I can't discuss this over the phone, but I promise you, it's big."
Morgan leaned forward, a smile playing at her lips. "How big are we talking?"
***
Thomas leaned back on his couch, the darkness of his apartment cloaking him like a protective shroud. He took a slow sip from his glass, letting the burn of the whiskey mingle with the coldness of the ice cubes. The amber liquid shimmered in the faint light that found its way through the closed blinds.
"Listen, Morgan," he said, his voice low and cautious as it carried over the phone. "I've got something you're going to want to hear, but I can't tell you over the phone. It's too risky."
Morgan's eagerness was palpable even through the line. "Do you want to meet up then?" she asked, her usual stoicism giving way to hope.
"Of course," Thomas replied, his fingers idly tracing the condensation on his glass. "Not tonight, though. Tomorrow, for sure."
"Where should we meet?" Her question was laced with anticipation, and Thomas could almost see her mind racing with the possibilities.
"I'll let you know tomorrow. I'm not sure what work is gonna demand of me. You know how it is."
"I do. Thank you, really," Morgan's voice reached him through the phone, gratitude evident in her tone. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Hey, it's what I'm here for." Thomas grinned, his eyes narrowing playfully in the darkness. "But I expect a second date after all this is over, Cross."
Morgan laughed, a genuine sound that made Thomas's heart swell with pride. "You've got yourself a deal, Thomas Grady."
"Good," he replied, his smile still lingering as he ended the call.
The moment the line went dead, Thomas's expression shifted. The warmth drained from his face, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his whiskey, the burn in his throat doing nothing to bring the warmth back to his eyes.
As the liquid fire settled into his stomach, his thoughts turned inward. The information he held could crack open the case and bring justice to those who had wronged Morgan, but it also carried great risk. He knew the cost of playing with fire, and yet, here he was, stoking the flames.
The amber liquid swirled in the glass, casting a warm glow against the stark darkness of Thomas's apartment. He stared at it for a moment, his thoughts racing, before setting the whiskey down on the coffee table with a soft clink. Every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared himself for what came next.
His thumb hovered over the screen of his phone, hesitating for only a second before pressing down on the contact labeled "Boss" and bringing the device to his ear. The line rang once, twice, and then clicked as the call connected.
"Thomas," said the man on the other end, his voice deep and authoritative. "What do you have for me?"
"Everything's going according to plan," Thomas replied, his tone cold and detached. His mind flashed back to the warmth of Morgan's laugh, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. "I've got Morgan Cross right where we need her. It's only a matter of time now."
"Good," the man responded, his voice betraying no emotion. "You know how important this is. We can't afford any mistakes."
"Understood," Thomas said, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't let his boss sense even a hint of doubt or hesitation – not when so much was at stake.
"Keep me updated," the man ordered. "And remember, Thomas – you're playing a dangerous game here. Don't get too attached. This is business, nothing more."
Thomas swallowed hard, suppressing the urge to lash out. Instead, he forced himself to maintain his icy façade. "Of course," he said, teeth gritted. "I won't disappoint you."
"See that you don't," the man replied, and the line went dead.
