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"Uh, no thanks. Just waiting to meet a friend," he replied, scanning the room as if searching for someone. Alexandra nodded and continued tidying up, but she couldn't shake her fascination with the man. In a strange way, it felt comforting to see someone else who didn't quite fit the mold of conventional beauty. It was a rare occurrence in her life, and she found herself wondering about his story.
She glanced at the clock and realized her shift was officially over. As she grabbed her purse and prepared to leave, she couldn't help but steal one last look at the mysterious man with the scar. Somehow, he'd managed to make her feel a little less alone in a sea of strangers. But the night was over, and it was time for her to finally retreat to the sanctuary of her home.
"Alexandra, you're good to go," her boss said, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up and smiled gratefully.
"Thanks, Frank. Have a good night." She carefully wiped down the counter one last time before making her way into the backroom. Her purse felt heavy in her hand as she slung it over her shoulder, but it was a comforting weight. She could finally leave this place and escape the stares that followed her all night long.
As Alexandra stepped out into the cool night air, the image of the man with the scarred face lingered in her mind. Why did he have such an effect on her? She shook her head, trying to chase away the thoughts. Tonight, she just wanted to focus on the relief of being off work and the comfort of her own home.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Morgan's eyes fluttered shut as she drifted into sleep, her body tense from the day's events. In her dreams, she found herself walking through a dense forest, the crunch of leaves underfoot and the scent of damp earth filling her senses. Her father stood beside her, shotgun in hand, as they hunted for birds together.
"Look, there's one," her father whispered, pointing to a bird perched high in a tree. As she squinted to see it, the scene around her began to warp and twist. The peaceful forest transformed into a dark, ominous landscape, and her father's familiar face slowly morphed into something terrifying.
"Who are you?" Morgan demanded, her heart pounding in her chest. The man before her now bore the unmistakable features of Adam Sallow—a chilling smile and the disfiguring scar that traced across his missing eye.
"Your worst nightmare," he replied, his voice a sinister drawl. The birds around them fell silent, the atmosphere thick with tension and fear.
Morgan tried to move, to run away from this nightmarish version of her father, but her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. She was trapped, helpless, as the man with the scar raised his weapon and took aim at the bird.
The ghastly grin on Adam Sallow's face widened as he pulled the trigger, causing the bird to explode into a shower of feathers and blood. The crimson droplets sprayed across Morgan's face, and she recoiled in horror.
"Run, little bird," Adam taunted, his laughter echoing through the dark forest. "But you won't escape me."
Panicking, Morgan stumbled through the twisted trees, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. More birds fell from the sky around her, their lifeless bodies hitting the ground with sickening thuds. Feathers swirled in the night air like an ominous snowstorm, choking her lungs and obscuring her vision.
"Please," she whispered between choked sobs. "Please let this end."
"End?" Adam's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. "This is only the beginning, Morgan."
Suddenly, she felt a strong grip on her arm, yanking her back. She screamed, kicking and thrashing in a desperate attempt to break free. But it was useless—she couldn't escape the nightmare.
"MORGAN!"
Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring into familiar green eyes. Derik loomed above her, concern etched across his face. She was lying on her couch at home, soaked in cold sweat. The disorienting residue of fear clung to her, making it difficult to breathe.
"Are you all right?" Derik asked, his voice laced with worry.
"What are you doing here?" Morgan managed to croak out, her heart still racing.
"I came to show you new evidence," he explained, glancing over his shoulder. "I saw a car parked outside and sensed danger. When I arrived, a masked man fled back into the car and took off."
Morgan rubbed her temples, trying to shake the remnants of her nightmare. With Derik's presence, the weight of her terror began to lift. She sat up, pushing away the haunting images of birds and blood. "What masked man?" she asked. She recalled that before she passed out, she could have sworn she'd seen two figures fighting. But... that was impossible. It must have been another one of her dreams.
"I don't know," Derik said. "What's going on?"
Morgan gritted her teeth. She couldn't tell him about Thomas. It was too risky--if she told him, he might do what Derik always did, and try to get involved, do things by the book. And Thomas's warning was clear: she could not involve Derik or the FBI, or else Skunk would die.
"Morgan, come on," Derik urged. "What the hell is going on with you?"
"I...I can't explain everything right now," Morgan finally said, her voice trembling. "But I need you to trust me. There are things happening that I can't involve you in. It's dangerous."
Derik's brow furrowed with concern, his eyes searching hers for answers. "Morgan, I care about you," he said softly. "I want to help. Please, let me be there for you."
Tears welled up in Morgan's eyes as conflicting emotions churned within her. She wanted to lean on Derik, to confide in him and let him shoulder some of the burden she was carrying. But fear gripped her heart, fear that involving him would only lead to more pain and destruction.
"I know you mean well, Derik," Morgan whispered, her voice barely audible. "But this is something I have to face alone. I promise I'll explain everything when the time is right, but right now...I just need your trust."
