Chapter 47 Morgan
Morgan
Iknew Damian wouldn’t like it. None of them would. But sitting safe in the cottage while girls kept disappearing and Luthor stayed free? I couldn’t do it. Not when I had the skills to help.
The mill was dark as I drove past it. I knew they were there, dealing with human trafficking and fentanyl. Ruby was home, safe in bed, and I told myself over and over that’s why I could do this. Because she needed a world without monsters like Luthor.
After I turned around, I saw two people outside, smoking cigarettes. Get the information. Leave. Don’t get caught. Don’t slow down. Keep driving.
It was reckless of me to drive out here, I knew that. It was dangerous. But every breadcrumb mattered. Every sign I left behind was one step closer to putting Luthor in a cage.
I thought of Damian as I drove into the night. His steady voice, the way he’d looked at me when he promised he’d come back once this was over. If he found out that I left the house, he’d be furious.
But he’d also know one thing for certain—
I wasn’t giving up. Not on this fight. Not on him.
By the time I made it back to the cottage, the night air had turned cold enough to bite. My fingers were stiff on the doorknob, my chest still pounding from every close call replaying in my head.
Ruby’s soft snore drifted from her room down the hall. I leaned against the doorframe a moment, listening, grounding myself. She was safe. That was all that mattered.
Still, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I set the recorder on the counter, staring at its red light. Once, it had been nothing but a companion, a way to spill my thoughts. Now, it was the most dangerous secret I owned.
I sank into the chair at my desk, pulling my knees up tight, wrapping my arms around them. Damian’s face flashed in my mind—the hard edge of his jaw when he made a promise, the weight in his eyes when he told me he’d be back.
He’d be furious if he knew where I’d been tonight—furious and worried for me in equal measure. Maybe even disappointed. The thought burned worse than the danger I’d just faced, by driving out there.
But what else was I supposed to do? Sit here, pretend I didn’t know the patterns, the places, the things nobody else seemed to see? Pretend I wasn’t meant to be part of this?
I whispered to the silence, “I’m helping. I have to.”
My throat tightened. Because beneath all that stubborn determination was a sliver of fear I couldn’t shake—that when Damian found out, he wouldn’t see me as brave. He’d see me as reckless. And maybe he’d stop looking at me the way he had before he left.
I pressed my forehead against my knees, whispering one more promise into the dark.
“I won’t let him down. Not this time. Not ever.”