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"Derik, please," Morgan pleaded, placing her hand on his arm. "Skunk is still out there, and I don't know what Thomas plans to do next. I need your help."
Derik's face contorted with rage, his green eyes burning with fury. "I'm going to kill that bastard," he growled, trying to push himself up from the bed.
"Derik, relax!" Morgan urged, placing a firm hand on his chest and pushing him back down. "You're injured, remember? And Thomas... he warned me. If I told you or anyone else about this, he'd kill Skunk."
Her heart clenched at the thought of her loyal dog out there somewhere in danger, with no way for her to protect him. She looked away, fighting back tears. "I don't even have any proof Skunk is still alive," she whispered, her voice cracking. "But I'm certain it was Thomas who chased my car and tried breaking into my house."
"Damn it, Morgan." Derik's frustration was palpable as he gripped the edge of the hospital bed, knuckles turning white. "We need to get the FBI involved. They can help us—"
"Derik, no!" Morgan grabbed his hand, desperation coloring her features. "I'm begging you, don't tell anyone. It's too risky. This is something I have to do alone."
She stared into his eyes, searching for understanding. "Please, don't make me regret telling you. I'm trusting you not to react and keep this to yourself."
Derik seemed to struggle internally for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. "Alright, Morgan," he relented, his gaze never leaving hers. "I promise I won't say a word. But if you need anything, anything at all, just remember that I'm here for you."
Morgan nodded, grateful for Derik's support even though a part of her wished she could take the burden off his shoulders. As they sat in silence, Morgan's mind raced with possible plans and contingencies, while her heart ached for Skunk, praying that he was still alive and safe. She didn't know what she would do if she lost him too – but she wouldn't let Thomas win without one hell of a fight.
***
The night air clung to Morgan's skin as she stepped out of her car, the weight of exhaustion settling in with every step towards her front door. Her home's dark facade loomed over her, a silent reminder that Skunk was still missing. With a heavy sigh, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the emptiness hitting her like a punch to the gut.
"Skunk?" she called out, even though she knew he wouldn't come bounding around the corner. The silence that followed only served to amplify the loneliness she felt. She dropped her keys on the console table and rubbed her eyes, wishing she could just crawl into bed and forget everything for a while. But something felt off, and she couldn't place it.
As Morgan scanned the room, her gaze settled on the coffee table. There, nestled between scattered files and empty takeout containers, lay an object that sent a cold shiver down her spine. Heart pounding, she slowly approached it, her hand instinctively going to her gun as she drew closer.
"Dammit, Thomas," she whispered, picking up Skunk's collar and turning it over in her hands. The worn leather, the jingling tags - it was undeniably his. And next to it, a hastily scrawled note: YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE INVOLVED HIM.
Morgan closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I didn't want to involve him," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "You did this, you sick bastard."
Her mind raced, torn between anger and concern for Skunk. Questions swirled around, threatening to overwhelm her. Had Derik broken his promise? If not, how had Thomas found out? And where was Skunk now?
"Think, Morgan, think," she urged herself, pacing the living room. "What's his game? What does he want from me?"
But answers eluded her, and all she was left with was the gnawing fear that she was running out of time. Every second that ticked by could be another second closer to losing Skunk - or worse. She needed to find him, and fast.
"Alright," Morgan said, steeling herself. "You want to play this game, Thomas? Let's play."
She let the collar fall back onto the table and picked up her phone, dialing a number she had hoped she wouldn't need to use again. As it rang, she glanced at the note once more, her jaw set in determination.
"Hey, it's me," she said when the line clicked open. "I need your help. We have a situation."
