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The golden liquid warmed her throat and chased away the cold tendrils of fear that had wound themselves around her heart. She took another sip, the fire in her belly urging her to keep searching, to find the truth hidden beneath layers of lies and obfuscation.
As she returned to her laptop, her mind raced with possibilities, each more sinister than the last. But with every click and scroll, she drew closer to the truth that would bring her one step closer to saving Skunk and unraveling the web of deceit that had ensnared them all.
Morgan stared at her laptop screen, the words blurring together as her vision grew hazy and unfocused. The whiskey coursed through her veins, dulling her sharp mind and weighing down her eyelids. She blinked heavily, trying to clear her thoughts.
Her head fell back against the couch, the soft cushion cradling her skull as she drifted into a restless sleep, Skunk's absence a gnawing emptiness in her heart.
CHAPTER TWO
The first thing Morgan noticed as she slowly stirred back to consciousness was the familiar weight on her chest – the comforting presence of Skunk. Her eyes snapped open, disbelief and relief warring within her as she stared down at her precious Pitbull, nestled against her like nothing had ever happened.
"Skunk?" she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "Is it really you?"
The dog raised his head, his dark eyes meeting hers with unwavering loyalty and affection. A sob caught in Morgan's throat as she pulled him into a fierce embrace, her hand burying into his soft fur.
"How did you...?" she started to ask, but the sound of glass clinking in the kitchen stopped her mid-sentence.
Morgan's instincts kicked in instantly, propelling her to her feet and leaving Skunk behind on the couch. Her heart hammered in her chest as she crossed the living room, each step silent and deliberate. The ominous sound repeated itself, and she could feel her pulse quicken with anticipation.
"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the fear that coiled in her stomach. "Show yourself!"
Creeping into the kitchen, gun drawn, Morgan's eyes darted around for any sign of danger. The clinking sound came again, and she spotted Thomas with his back facing her, pouring himself a drink. Her stomach churned with anger and nerves.
"Freeze!" she ordered, her voice steady, even as adrenaline coursed through her veins.
Thomas turned to face her, his handsome features twisting into a cruel grin. But before she could react, his appearance morphed before her very eyes. Suddenly, it was her father standing there, wearing an FBI uniform she had never seen him in during his lifetime.
"Da...Dad?" Morgan stammered, her grip on the gun faltering. All logic screamed that this couldn't be real, but the sight of him shook her to her core.
"Surprised to see me?" he asked, his voice cold and unfamiliar.
Morgan's mind raced with a million questions, but she could barely form words. She lowered her gun, taking a shaky step forward. "How are you here?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her father's expression remained unreadable as he took a step closer. "It's complicated," he said cryptically. "But I need your help."
Morgan's head spun, trying to process what was happening. She had always dreamed of seeing her father again, but this felt like a sick joke. "What kind of help?"
Her father's eyes flicked to the gun in her hand. "I need you to put that away for a start," he said, nodding towards the weapon.
Morgan hesitated before reluctantly placing the gun on the counter. "What do you need from me?" she asked again, the apprehension in her voice palpable.
"I need you to wake up, Morgan."
"What?"
"I said wake up!"
Without warning, he raised a gun and fired.
Morgan jolted awake, still sitting on her couch in the dimly lit living room. Morning light filtered in through the blinds, casting hazy shadows across the floor. Her heart raced, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her composure. A dream. It was only a dream.
Her phone buzzed madly on the coffee table, its vibrations echoing through the otherwise quiet room. But as she stared at it, her mind reeled from the nightmare that had just unfolded. She'd seen Thomas – the man who had betrayed her, kidnapped Skunk, and toyed with her for reasons she couldn't understand – only for him to transform into her deceased father. Her father had died just before she'd gotten out of prison, but recently, the men who'd framed her had left Derik with a photograph of her father... with a team from the FBI. Morgan had never known her dad to be in the FBI, and she was unsure if they were toying with her, but the photo seemed real. Morgan was starting to realize that she maybe never knew her father as well as she'd thought.
"Dad..." she whispered, images from the dream still vivid in her mind. Were you really in the FBI? Why didn't you tell me?
As questions swirled in her head, her phone continued to vibrate, persistent and demanding her attention. But Morgan couldn't shake the lingering tendrils of the nightmare, the haunting image of her father in an FBI uniform, and the cold, calculating look in his eyes.
What did it all mean? And how could she possibly untangle this twisted web that seemed to ensnare her at every turn?
