Page 5 of For Mercy (Morgan Cross #16)

"Mary Price," he began, his voice rough with emotion. "She was... everything to me, Morgan. Beautiful, brilliant, fierce." A ghost of a smile played across his lips before fading. "But she wasn't mine. Not really."

Morgan's jaw clenched. "Cordell," she said, the name tasting bitter on her tongue.

John nodded, his expression darkening. "Richard was obsessed with her. Called her his muse, his inspiration. But it was more than that. He saw her as a possession."

The air in the cabin felt thick, oppressive. Morgan's skin crawled at the thought of Cordell's fixation. She'd seen glimpses of his ruthlessness, but this... this was something darker.

"Mary and I," John continued, "we kept everything secret. Stolen moments, whispered promises. We thought we were being careful."

Morgan pieced together the fragments of a past she'd never known. "But he found out," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

John's eyes met hers, filled with a pain that seemed to stretch across decades. "Yes," he replied. "And when he did..."

The unfinished sentence hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Morgan's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She could feel the rage building inside her, a familiar companion after all these years.

"What did he do?" she asked, dreading the answer but needing to hear it.

John's gaze dropped back to the floor. "He wanted revenge, Morgan.

On both of us. But Mary... she bore the brunt of his wrath.

" John's voice turned hollow, echoing in the small cabin like a ghost from the past. "Cordell had Mary killed," he said, the words dropping like stones in still water. "Then he framed me for it."

Morgan's breath caught in her throat. She'd suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a chill through her body. Her tattooed arms wrapped around herself, seeking warmth that wouldn't come.

"How?" she managed to ask, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the oil lamp.

John's weathered hands trembled as he spoke. "He staged it to look like an accident. Cross-fire on a case." His eyes, clouded with memories, met Morgan's. "But I knew. And he knew that I knew."

Morgan connected dots she'd never seen before. "Your career, your life..."

"Gone," John finished. "In an instant. I had no choice but to vanish. To become a ghost."

The weight of his words settled over Morgan like a shroud. She thought of her childhood, of the isolated cabin where she'd grown up, so similar to this one. The pieces were falling into place with sickening clarity.

"That's why we lived in the woods," she said, her voice thick with realization. "You were hiding. Protecting me."

John nodded, his eyes glistening in the lamplight. "I hoped... I prayed it would be enough to keep you safe. To give you a life free from Cordell's shadow."

Morgan's throat tightened. She thought of her own path, the choices that had led her here. "But I became an FBI agent anyway."

"Yes," John said, a mix of pride and fear in his voice. "Following in my footsteps, even though you didn't know it. I was so proud, Morgan. But also terrified."

"Because the closer I got to the truth..."

"The more danger you were in," John finished. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And then, somehow, Cordell found out who you were."

Morgan's blood ran cold. "How?" she asked, her mind already racing through possibilities. "How did he find out?"

John shook his head, frustration etched on his face. "I don't know. I've been trying to figure that out. But once he knew..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Morgan filled in the blanks herself. Once Cordell knew, her fate had been sealed. She'd been marked, just like her father before her.

Morgan's fingers traced the faded tattoos on her arms, a physical reminder of the years stolen from her.

The dim light of the oil lamp cast eerie shadows across the cabin's worn walls, mirroring the darkness that had shrouded her past for so long.

She exhaled slowly, her mind reeling from the weight of her father's confession.

"All this time, Cordell was pulling the strings,” she said. “He's been three steps ahead of me from the start."

John's weathered face creased with guilt. "I'm sorry, Morgan. I thought I was protecting you by staying away, by letting you believe I was dead. I never imagined he'd come after you directly."

Morgan's eyes snapped to her father's. "When did you realize? When did you know it was Cordell behind my imprisonment?"

John's gaze dropped to the floor. "It wasn't until just about a year ago before you were released. I'd been monitoring things from afar, trying to piece together what happened. When I finally connected the dots..." He trailed off, his voice thick with regret.

"And that's when you decided to fake your death. Again." Morgan's tone was sharp, accusatory.

John nodded, his shoulders slumping. "I thought if Cordell believed I was truly gone, he'd leave you alone. I hoped your release would be the end of it."

Morgan laughed bitterly. "Well, that worked out great, didn't it?" She ran a hand through her dark hair, frustration bubbling up inside her. "Do you have any idea what it was like, thinking you were dead all this time? Believing I had no one left?"

"I know," John said softly. "And I'll regret that decision for the rest of my life. But Morgan, you have to understand – Cordell is relentless. He doesn't just destroy his enemies; he obliterates them. I couldn't risk him coming after you again."

Morgan closed her eyes, trying to process the enormity of the situation. Her entire life had been shaped by this vendetta, this decades-long game of cat and mouse. And now, she was caught in the middle of it all.

The flickering lamplight cast long shadows across John's weathered face as he leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. "I saw you on the news, Morgan. Your arrest, the accusations. I knew it had to be Cordell. He's still out there, still pulling strings."

Morgan's jaw clenched, her arms tightening across her chest. The cabin suddenly felt too small, too confining. She paced, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet.

"He's not just after me," she said, her dark eyes meeting her father's. "He's trying to erase everything you were, everything you stood for. It's like he wants to wipe out any trace of John Christopher from the world."

John nodded grimly. "Cordell's always been obsessed with legacy. In his mind, I betrayed him, and now he wants to make sure there's nothing left of me. Not even in you."

Morgan stopped pacing, her mind racing. She'd been right about so much, but the confirmation brought no satisfaction. Only a cold, creeping dread.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, hating how lost she sounded.

"Cordell's got allies everywhere. He's got his hooks so deep in the Bureau, I don't know who I can trust anymore.

" She ran a hand through her dark hair, frustration etched in every line of her body.

"I'm running out of options, Dad. And I'm running out of time. "

John's weathered face darkened, his eyes taking on a haunted look that sent a chill down Morgan's spine. He stepped back, running a calloused hand through his graying hair.

"There might be another way," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "A way to end this once and for all."

Morgan tensed, her FBI instincts screaming a warning. "What are you thinking?"

John met her gaze, his expression grim. "I turn myself in. Surrender to Cordell."

The words hit Morgan like a physical blow. Her blood ran cold, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Absolutely not," she snapped, her voice sharp with fear and anger.

"Think about it," John pressed. "If I give myself up, maybe it'll be enough. Maybe he'll finally let this vendetta go."

Morgan shook her head vehemently, her dark hair whipping around her face. "You don't understand how Cordell operates," she said, her voice tight with urgency. "He doesn't just kill his enemies. He erases them."

She paced the small cabin, her tattooed arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her mind raced, imagining all the ways Cordell could twist this to his advantage.

"If you surrender, he won't just kill you," she continued, turning back to face her father.

"He'll take someone away from you first. And that someone will be me. "

John's face paled, the implications sinking in. Morgan pressed on, her voice softening slightly. "We can't give him that opportunity. You need to stay hidden, Dad. Let me handle this."

"But how?" John asked, his shoulders slumping with the weight of their predicament.

Morgan's jaw set with determination. "I'll find a way to bring Cordell down. For good this time. But I need you safe while I do it."

The oil lamp flickered, casting dancing shadows across the weathered walls of the cabin.

Morgan sank onto the edge of the rickety bed, her body heavy with exhaustion and the weight of everything she'd learned.

Outside, the forest hummed with nocturnal life, a contrast to the oppressive silence within.

She ran a hand through her dark hair, her mind whirling. The lies, the betrayals, the decades of secrets – it was almost too much to process. But beneath the shock and confusion, a fierce determination burned. This wasn't just about clearing her name anymore. This was war.

"I need to form a plan," Morgan muttered, more to herself than to her father. She glanced up at him, noting the worry lines etched deep into his face. "Cordell has allies everywhere. Taking him down won't be easy."

John nodded gravely. "He's had years to build his network. But you're not alone in this fight, Morgan. Remember that."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "I know. I've got good people in my corner." Her thoughts drifted to Derik, and something in her expression must have changed, because her father's eyebrow raised slightly.

“I know this is a lot,” he went on, “but maybe you can tell your old man how you’re doing outside of all this? You have a life… a man?”

Morgan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "Yeah… Derik. We're... together now," she admitted, feeling an odd mix of vulnerability and warmth. "It's still new, but it's good. Really good."

A genuine smile spread across John's weathered face. "I'm glad to hear that," he said. "That boy's loved you for a long time, you know. Even back when you two were just partners, I could see it in his eyes."

Morgan felt a flush creep up her neck. "Dad," she protested weakly, but there was no real objection behind it.

Instead, she found herself relaxing slightly, allowing herself this moment of normalcy amidst the chaos.

"He's been there for me through... everything," she continued, her voice growing quiet.

"The framing, the prison time, all of it.

Even when I pushed him away, he never gave up on me. "

John reached out, gently squeezing her shoulder. "That's what love does, sweetheart. It gives you strength when you need it most."

Morgan nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to simply be a daughter sitting with her father, sharing a piece of her life. But the weight of their situation pressed in again, and she straightened, her expression hardening with resolve.

"We're going to end this," she said, her voice low and determined. "Cordell, his network, all of it. Whatever it takes."

Morgan let the silence settle between them, a comfortable weight. Her father's presence felt both familiar and strange, like rediscovering a part of herself she'd thought lost forever.

"I should go," Morgan said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Derik will be worried, and I need to start planning our next move."

John nodded, rising slowly from his seat on the edge of the bed. Morgan stood as well, her body tense with a mixture of reluctance and urgency.

They faced each other, neither quite sure how to bridge the physical and emotional distance. Then, with a sudden surge of emotion, Morgan stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her father. He stiffened for a moment, surprised, before returning the embrace.

Morgan pressed her face against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of pine and woodsmoke that clung to his clothes. It transported her back to childhood camping trips, to moments of safety and belonging that had seemed lost forever.

"I'm glad you're alive, Dad," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I thought... for so long, I thought I'd lost you too."

John's arms tightened around her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, his own voice rough with emotion. "I never wanted to leave you. But I thought... I thought it was the only way to keep you safe."

Morgan pulled back slightly, meeting her father's gaze. The determination that had driven her for the past decade blazed in her eyes. "We're going to fix this," she said. "Together. No more running, no more hiding. It's time Cordell paid for everything he's done."

John nodded, a mix of pride and concern etched on his weathered features. "Be careful, Morgan. Cordell's dangerous, and he's got a lot of powerful friends."

"I know," Morgan replied, her jaw set. "But so do I. And I've got the truth on my side."

As she turned to leave, Morgan paused at the cabin door, looking back at her father. The enormity of what lay ahead weighed heavily on her shoulders, but for the first time in years, she didn't feel alone in the fight.

"I'll be in touch," she promised. "Stay safe, Dad. We've got a lot of lost time to make up for."