Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

February 11, 2025 - Los Angeles, California

The steady beep of the heart monitor was the first thing Lexy registered as she stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. The world came back to her slowly, in soft, muted layers—the warmth of the blankets cocooning her, the lingering grogginess in her limbs, the distant hum of voices in the hallway beyond the door. She blinked, adjusting to the dim lighting of the hospital room, and for a brief moment, panic curled in her chest.

She wasn’t in the cabin.

She wasn’t trapped in that dark, cold space, bound and helpless.

She was here. In a hospital. Alive.

The realization hit her in waves, and as her breath steadied, she let her head sink back into the pillows. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, only that sleep itself had been an unpredictable thing—coming in short, restless bursts, interrupted by nurses checking her vitals or the stubborn remnants of nightmares that refused to fade.

The door creaked open softly, and she turned her head just in time to see Morgan step inside, her movements careful, as if she didn’t want to wake her. The sight of her cousin—alive, safe, standing in front of her—shouldn’t have been as grounding as it was, but it was.

Morgan stopped short when she saw Lexy’s open eyes. “Hey,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lexy shifted slightly, adjusting against the pillows. “I was already awake.” Her throat felt dry, her voice scratchy from disuse. She reached for the water cup on the tray, wincing slightly at the pull in her muscles.

Morgan stepped forward without hesitation, grabbing the cup before Lexy could and handing it to her. “Take it slow.”

Lexy gave her a dry look. “I was kidnapped, not concussed.”

Morgan smirked. “Still not taking chances.”

Lexy rolled her eyes but took a small sip anyway, feeling the cool liquid soothe the rawness in her throat. Morgan, ever the observer, was watching her closely, taking in every detail—probably cataloging the exhaustion in her features, the bruises that hadn’t fully faded, the way her hands still trembled slightly when she moved.

A familiar paper bag in Morgan’s other hand caught Lexy’s attention. “What’s that?”

Morgan lifted it slightly. “Your ticket to something edible.” She set the bag on the tray table, pulling out the contents one by one. “One cheeseburger, fries, and a milkshake. As requested.”

Lexy blinked. “You actually got it?”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “You sounded very passionate about it the last time I asked if you needed anything.”

Lexy huffed out a quiet laugh. “Hospital food is a crime.”

Morgan gave a mock gasp. “What? You mean you don’t like unidentifiable protein mush?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Morgan smirked, settling into the chair beside the bed as Lexy unwrapped the burger, her movements slower than usual. Morgan didn’t comment on the way she hesitated before taking a bite, how exhaustion still pulled at her features even as she tried to act normal.

Lexy took a small sip of the milkshake before speaking again. “Have you been here the whole time?”

Morgan shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Not the whole time. I had to shower at some point.”

Lexy shot her a look. “You haven’t slept much, have you?”

Morgan leaned back in the chair, stretching her legs out. “I sleep exactly as much as I need to.”

Lexy scoffed. “That’s not an answer.”

Morgan smirked but didn’t push back. Instead, she reached for a fry from the tray, stealing it without shame.

Lexy narrowed her eyes. “I saw that.”

Morgan popped the fry into her mouth. “Prove it.”

For a moment, the conversation was light—normal. But then Lexy set down the burger, her expression shifting. “I—I didn’t think I was gonna make it out.” Her voice was quieter now, like saying it out loud made it more real. “I thought he was going to kill me. I thought we were both goners.”

Morgan’s stomach clenched, but she kept her expression steady. “You weren’t alone, Lexy. We were always going to find you.”

Lexy swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the cup in her hands. “I know. I just—I was so scared. And I keep thinking about everything I did wrong. If I hadn’t left, if I had just stayed, none of this would’ve happened.”

Morgan exhaled sharply, leaning forward. “None of this is your fault.”

Lexy let out a hollow laugh. “Tell that to my brain.”

Morgan hesitated, then reached across the tray, resting a hand over Lexy’s. “You’re here. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

Lexy blinked rapidly, then nodded, her fingers curling slightly under Morgan’s touch. “Yeah.”

Morgan squeezed her hand once before pulling back. “Besides,” she added, smirking slightly, “you still owe me gas money for stealing my car.”

Lexy groaned, tilting her head back against the pillows. “Oh my god.”

Morgan chuckled. “Just saying, it’s not free.”

For the first time in over a week, Lexy looked something close to herself again. And for Morgan, that was enough.

The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor and the occasional rustle of blankets as Lexy shifted, trying to get comfortable. She hadn’t realized how much she hated stillness until now. After days of chaos, captivity, and survival, sitting in a hospital bed, safe but fragile, felt like an entirely new kind of torture.

Morgan had left the room briefly to grab coffee, leaving Lexy alone with nothing but her thoughts. She picked at the blanket absentmindedly, her mind drifting. It had been days since she’d been rescued, and yet her body still ached with phantom pains, her wrists still felt the weight of chains even though they were gone, and the bruises on her arms—some old, some fresh—painted a story she didn’t want to tell.

She glanced at the IV line in her arm, the clear fluid slowly dripping into her veins. Every medical beep and whir in the room made her stomach clench. She hated hospitals. The sterile air, the too-clean scent, the way the walls felt like they were closing in.

A soft knock on the door made her jump slightly, but before she could call out, Karadec stepped inside. He wasn’t in his usual buttoned-up, all-business mode. His sleeves were rolled up, and there was a tiredness in his eyes that made Lexy realize she wasn’t the only one who had been carrying the weight of the last few days.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice quieter than usual.

Lexy blinked in surprise. “Hey.”

He stepped closer, glancing at the untouched milkshake on her tray. “Didn’t expect to see you in here,” she admitted, watching as he pulled up a chair beside the bed.

“Figured I should check in,” he said, studying her like he was making sure she was really there. “You gave us a hell of a scare.”

Lexy shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her hands. “Didn’t mean to.”

Karadec exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know.” He paused, glancing at the monitors before looking back at her. “How are you holding up?”

Lexy hesitated. That was the question, wasn’t it? Everyone kept asking. The nurses. Morgan. And now him. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, but she didn’t know how to answer.

She forced a small smile. “Well, I’m alive.”

Karadec’s gaze didn’t waver. “That’s not what I asked.”

Lexy let out a slow breath, looking away. “I don’t know. I feel… weird. Like my brain hasn’t caught up to the fact that it’s over.” She flexed her fingers against the blanket. “I keep thinking I’m still there. That if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up back in that room.”

Karadec nodded slowly, his jaw tightening slightly. “That’s normal. Your mind’s been in survival mode for days. It’s going to take time to adjust.”

Lexy scoffed, shaking her head. “Great. So I get to feel like I’m losing it and look like a disaster. Love that for me.”

Karadec’s expression softened slightly. “You don’t look like a disaster.”

Lexy gave him a dry look. “Yeah, okay.”

There was a small pause before Karadec leaned forward slightly. “Listen, you’re allowed to not be okay right now. No one expects you to just… bounce back. You went through hell. That doesn’t just go away because you’re out of it.”

Lexy swallowed hard, something in her chest tightening. “I just don’t want to be a burden.”

Karadec’s brows furrowed. “Lexy, you’re not a burden. Not to Morgan. Not to any of us.”

Lexy didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stared down at the hospital blanket, tracing patterns in the fabric with her fingers. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

Karadec sighed, rubbing his hands together before leaning back in his chair. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said finally. “I know you probably don’t believe that right now, but I do.”

Lexy glanced at him, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity in his voice. She swallowed, then nodded. “Thanks,” she murmured.

Karadec gave her a small, almost-smile before standing up. “I’ll let you rest,” he said, adjusting his sleeves. “Morgan should be back soon. You need anything?”

Lexy shook her head. “No, I’m good.”

He hesitated for a moment like he wanted to say more but instead just nodded before heading for the door.

As soon as he was gone, Lexy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She wasn’t okay. Not even close.

And something told her it was only going to get harder before it got easier.

Morgan spotted Karadec the moment she rounded the corner. He was standing outside Lexy’s hospital room, arms crossed over his chest, the crease between his brows deeper than usual. The exhaustion in his stance was obvious, but there was something else too—something unspoken in the way his shoulders held tension like he was bracing for something.

She approached, holding two coffees in one hand. “You look like hell,” she muttered, stopping beside him.

Karadec huffed a tired breath, glancing at her. “You’re one to talk.”

Morgan smirked faintly before holding out one of the cups. “Figured you could use this.”

He hesitated for half a second before taking it, his fingers brushing against hers as he did. “Thanks.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, the hum of the hospital around them, the distant beep of machines and murmured voices filling the space. It was a rare kind of quiet, the kind that only came after days of tension finally snapped.

Morgan leaned against the wall beside him, staring ahead. “She say anything?”

Karadec took a sip of coffee before nodding. “Yeah. She’s still processing everything. Feels like her brain hasn’t caught up to the fact that she’s safe.”

Morgan exhaled slowly, rolling the cup between her palms. “Yeah… I know that feeling.”

Karadec glanced at her then, something flickering behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything right away, just watched her like he was weighing his words. “You’re blaming yourself.”

It wasn’t a question.

Morgan’s jaw tightened slightly. “If I had just—”

“Stop,” Karadec cut in, his voice quieter but firm. “You did everything you could. More than that. She’s alive because of you.”

Morgan let out a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah? Tell that to the part of me that can’t stop replaying every mistake I made.”

Karadec turned fully toward her then, his gaze steady, unwavering. “Morgan.” His voice was softer now, but no less serious. “You can’t carry the weight of every bad thing that happens.”

She scoffed, looking down at her coffee. “You do.”

Karadec’s lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. And it’s exhausting.”

Morgan finally looked at him, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them shifted—something quiet but heavy settling there, something neither of them were quite ready to acknowledge.

It was Karadec who looked away first, clearing his throat. “You should go in. She was asking about you.”

Morgan nodded, pushing off the wall. Before she stepped inside, she paused, glancing back at him. “Hey.”

Karadec met her eyes again, expectant.

Morgan hesitated, then just shook her head, the corner of her mouth quirking slightly. “Get some rest, Adam.”

Karadec stilled for just a fraction of a second at the sound of Morgan saying his first name so nonchalantly before she disappeared into the room.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, running a hand over his face.

Dammit.

The hum of the precinct was oddly comforting as Morgan and Karadec stepped into the bullpen, though the usual energy felt different. There was still work to be done—files being shuffled, phones ringing in the background—but the weight of everything that had happened in the past week loomed over the space like a shadow.

Morgan barely made it past her desk before Daphne and Oz spotted her.

“Finally!” Oz called out, pushing back from Daphne’s desk where he had been spinning a lollipop between his fingers. He popped it into his mouth and waved dramatically. “Thought we were gonna have to send a search party. Did you get lost at the hospital?”

Daphne swatted him on the arm without looking up from her computer. “She just got back, let her breathe, will you?”

“I’m breathing just fine,” Morgan muttered, setting her bag down with a heavier thud than necessary.

Selena emerged from her office at the same time, her sharp eyes scanning Morgan and Karadec before she crossed the room with purpose. “How is she?” No preamble, no small talk.

Morgan hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “Stable.” The word felt hollow. “She woke up hungry, so I take that as a good sign.”

Selena nodded, processing. “Good. That’s good.” A pause. “And you?”

Morgan blinked. The question felt foreign coming from Selena. She wasn’t used to being the one anyone asked about.

“I’m—” Morgan started, but she caught the pointed look Karadec shot her from beside his desk. The kind that said don’t lie to her.

Selena’s sharp gaze stayed locked on her, expectant.

Morgan exhaled, dropping into her chair. “Tired,” she admitted. “But I’m fine.”

Selena studied her for a second longer, then nodded. “Get some rest when you can.” It was the closest thing to concern Morgan had ever heard from her. “We’ve already started processing Flynn’s case. He’s not going anywhere.”

Morgan’s jaw tensed at the name. “Good.”

“Melon’s handling some of the legal wrap-up,” Selena continued. “But given how many crimes he racked up, the DA is already preparing for multiple charges. Kidnapping, aggravated assault, conspiracy, trafficking—he won’t see daylight again.”

Oz let out a low whistle. “Guess that’s what happens when you piss off half of California’s legal system.”

“Shame,” Daphne deadpanned. “And here I thought he’d be out on good behavior.”

Morgan forced a smirk, but the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. “Guy’s a control freak. Even locked up, he’s going to try something.”

“And we’ll be ready,” Selena assured. “He doesn’t have the leverage anymore, Morgan. We have his entire operation dismantled. We have his men in custody. And most importantly, we have Lexy. She survived him. She wins. Not him.”

Morgan swallowed. The words were logical, rational. But they didn’t erase the image of Lexy’s broken expression, the way she had trembled in Morgan’s arms when they pulled her from that cabin.

The way she had whispered, “I thought we were both goners.”

“Yeah,” Morgan murmured, running a hand through her hair. “She wins.”

Daphne shot her a look, sharp and knowing. “But you don’t believe that, do you?”

Morgan glanced at her, caught off guard. “What?”

Daphne set her elbows on her desk. “You’re sitting here acting like this isn’t a victory. Like you failed her somehow.”

Morgan exhaled sharply, but before she could deflect, Lieutenant Melon’s voice cut through the bullpen like a whip.

“Alright, which one of you geniuses is responsible for the paperwork nightmare on my desk?”

The entire team turned toward the entrance as Melon walked in, his signature unimpressed expression firmly in place. He had a folder in one hand and a coffee in the other, though judging by the way he was gripping the cup, he had already gone through several.

“That would be Flynn’s case,” Selena said without looking up.

Melon scoffed, dropping the folder onto her desk. “Yeah, no kidding. We’re gonna need an entire task force just to sort through all the crimes he’s committed.” His gaze flicked to Morgan. “Good to see you back, Gillory. Thought you might’ve finally run out of luck.”

“Nice to see you too, Lieutenant,” Morgan said dryly.

Melon grunted. “Don’t get sappy on me.” He took a sip of his coffee before shifting his focus. “How’s the kid?”

Morgan hesitated. Melon didn’t do sentiment, but something in his tone made it clear the question was genuine.

“She’ll be okay,” Morgan finally said.

Melon nodded once, satisfied with that answer. “Good. She deserves a damn break.”

Morgan couldn’t argue with that.

Daphne, still watching Morgan carefully, leaned back in her chair. “So, when are you gonna stop blaming yourself for this?”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “Oh, so we’re circling back to that, huh?”

“Yep,” Oz said, fully invested now. “It’s kind of our job to keep you from spiraling into your usual pattern of self-loathing.”

“I don’t—” Morgan stopped herself because yeah, she totally did.

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “You don’t what, exactly? You don’t take on every problem like it’s personally your fault? You don’t carry the weight of everyone’s suffering on your back?”

“Sounds fake,” Oz added.

Karadec, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. “They’re right.”

Morgan’s head snapped to him. He was watching her with that steady, unreadable expression—the kind that meant he was about to drop something she didn’t want to hear.

“You’re blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault,” he said plainly. “And it’s not helping anyone. Least of all Lexy.”

Morgan opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat.

She hated this. She hated the way they could all see through her.

Karadec, especially.

Daphne’s voice softened. “She needs you, Morgan. And she needs to see that you believe she made it. That she’s not broken.”

Morgan inhaled slowly. She hated how much sense they made.

She hated that they were right.

After a long pause, she exhaled. “Fine. I hear you.”

Oz blinked. “Did you just admit we were right?”

“Shut up, Oz.”

Daphne smirked. “Progress.”

Selena pushed back from her desk, straightening. “Good. Now, if we’re done with the intervention, we have work to do.”

Melon scoffed. “Yeah, starting with Flynn’s charges. The DA’s already on our backs about paperwork, and I don’t want to be the one dealing with it alone.”

Morgan sighed. “I hate paperwork.”

“Yeah, well,” Melon muttered, taking another sip of coffee. “Could be worse. You could be Flynn.”

That earned a snort from Oz. “Yeah, prison’s gonna love him.”

The room shifted, a flicker of normalcy settling between them. Despite everything, they were still them.

The team. The family.

Morgan felt something in her chest ease—just a little.

Lexy was safe. Flynn was behind bars. And for now, that was enough.

For now.

The soft beep of the heart monitor had become a familiar background noise, one that Lexy had learned to ignore after a week of being confined to the hospital bed. She had counted the tiles on the ceiling, memorized the hum of the air vent, and mentally cataloged the rhythm of the nurses’ footsteps in the hallway. But none of that compared to the absolute restlessness crawling under her skin now.

She was going home.

Or at least, to Morgan’s home. The idea still felt surreal.

Morgan stood by the hospital room’s small closet, shoving the last of Lexy’s things into the duffle bag she had brought from the house. “You’re sure you don’t need anything else?” she asked, her voice casual but edged with that protective note she had adopted ever since the rescue.

Lexy, perched on the edge of the hospital bed, nodded quickly. “If I stay here any longer, I might actually go insane.”

Morgan gave her a look, half amused, half skeptical. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.” She zipped up the bag and slung it over her shoulder before pausing, eyes flickering toward Lexy’s bandaged wrists. “You okay to walk?”

Lexy flexed her fingers, testing the slight ache that still lingered. The bruises had started to fade, but the phantom feeling of the cuffs still clung to her skin like a bad memory. “Yeah,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. “I’m good.”

Morgan watched her carefully, as if expecting her to suddenly collapse, but Lexy held her ground. The last thing she wanted was to look fragile in front of Morgan. She had spent too many days feeling like a victim. She refused to let that be her identity.

A knock at the door cut through the moment, and a nurse peeked in, holding a clipboard. “All set to be discharged?”

Lexy gave an eager nod before Morgan could say anything.

The nurse smiled, stepping inside to hand Morgan the discharge papers. “She’s officially free to go. Just remember to take it easy—your body’s been through a lot. And if you experience any dizziness, headaches, or pain beyond normal healing, come back immediately.”

Morgan gave a short nod, but Lexy rolled her eyes. “I know. Rest, hydrate, take my meds, don’t do anything reckless.” She recited the instructions like she had heard them a thousand times. Which, to be fair, she had.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like you have a history of bad decision-making.”

Lexy shot her a pointed look. “I stole your car and got kidnapped. I think the evidence speaks for itself.”

Morgan smirked, but there was a sadness behind her eyes that Lexy didn’t miss. She hated that look. The one that told her Morgan still blamed herself, no matter how many times Lexy tried to tell her otherwise.

Once the paperwork was signed and everything was officially in order, the nurse wheeled in a wheelchair, but Lexy immediately shook her head. “No way. I can walk.”

Hospital policy or not, she wasn’t letting anyone roll her out of here like she was some fragile thing.

Morgan, predictably, folded her arms. “Lexy.”

“I’m fine.”

The nurse hesitated but eventually shrugged, stepping aside to let Lexy do things on her own terms. Morgan sighed, clearly resisting the urge to argue, but she gestured toward the door. “Alright then. Lead the way.”

The hallway felt different now, knowing she was leaving. The fluorescent lights weren’t quite as harsh, the air not quite as sterile. She passed by the nurses’ station where familiar faces gave her small, encouraging nods. Some had been there the night she was admitted, still bloodied and barely conscious. Now, she was upright, dressed in something that wasn’t a hospital gown, walking toward the exit.

She was leaving that place—and that version of herself—behind.

When they reached the hospital’s front doors, Lexy hesitated.

The sun was bright against the glass, its golden light spilling through the automatic doors, warming the tile floor. Outside, cars rolled by in slow waves, people moved along the sidewalks, completely oblivious to everything that had happened to her in the past two weeks. The world had kept turning, even when hers had nearly stopped.

Morgan, standing beside her, didn’t rush her.

Lexy swallowed hard, steeling herself against the strange tightness in her chest. She wasn’t afraid. Not exactly. But something about stepping outside after so long, after everything, made her feel like she was walking into a different world.

Morgan’s voice was steady, quiet. “You ready?”

Lexy took a slow breath, then nodded.

Together, they stepped through the doors.

The first thing she noticed was the air—crisp and cool, carrying the scent of pavement and city life. It was different from the stale, artificial air of the hospital, and it hit her like a shock to the system. The second thing was the sound. Honking cars, distant conversations, the hum of everyday life that felt too normal after everything she had been through.

Lexy didn’t realize she had tensed up until Morgan’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder. “Breathe,” she murmured.

She exhaled slowly.

Karadec stood by the curb, leaning against his car with his arms crossed. His sharp eyes tracked Lexy the moment she stepped outside, assessing her with that careful gaze he always wore when something—or someone—mattered to him more than he’d admit.

“You made it,” he said simply.

Lexy raised an eyebrow. “Surprised?”

Karadec smirked, but there was warmth behind it. “Not in the slightest.”

Morgan opened the passenger door for her, but Lexy hesitated for a split second before getting in. The last time she had been in a car for a long drive, it had ended with her locked in a basement.

Morgan caught the pause. “You good?”

Lexy forced herself to nod. “Yeah.” She slid into the seat, buckling up.

Morgan shut the door gently before rounding the car to the driver’s side. As soon as she was inside, Karadec pulled away from the curb, merging into traffic.

Lexy watched the city roll past, sunlight flickering between buildings. A week ago, she had thought she’d never see it again.

She had thought she wouldn’t survive.

She turned to Morgan. “So, uh… how’s your car?”

Morgan snorted. “You mean the car you stole?”

Lexy grimaced. “Borrowed. Temporarily.”

“Sure,” Morgan drawled, rolling her eyes. “It’s fine. Had to change the locks, get some detailing done, but otherwise, it survived.”

Lexy exhaled. “Good. ‘Cause, you know, I felt kinda bad about that.”

Morgan side-eyed her. “That’s what you felt bad about?”

Lexy huffed. “One thing at a time, okay?”

Morgan chuckled, and for the first time since they left the hospital, Lexy felt like maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

The drive through the city felt both too long and not long enough. Lexy sat quietly in the passenger seat, her fingers lightly tapping against her thigh in a steady, restless rhythm. The motion wasn’t intentional—more of a subconscious habit that she hadn’t even realized had returned. It was something she had done before, back when she was first learning to code, back when she’d sit in front of a screen for hours trying to crack an impossible line of encryption. It had been a focus thing back then. Now, it was just nerves.

Everything outside the window looked normal. Pedestrians moved at their usual pace, lost in their own lives, completely unaware of the girl in the car who had just spent the last week trying to convince herself that she wasn’t going to die in a locked room with no way out. She could still feel the phantom tightness of the cuffs around her wrists, the cold steel digging into her skin, and even though she had been free for days now, her body hadn’t quite caught up with the fact that she was safe. Her mind still replayed every second of captivity, every moment where she thought she wasn’t getting out.

Morgan must have noticed her silence because, as they pulled up to a red light, she glanced over. “You holding up okay?” Her voice was casual, but there was a distinct thread of concern under it, something steady and grounding.

Lexy blinked, forcing herself back into the moment. She nodded quickly, but she knew Morgan wasn’t going to buy it. “Yeah,” she said, trying to sound normal. “Just… it’s weird, being out.”

Morgan hummed in understanding, her grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. “Yeah. I get that.”

Karadec, from the backseat, didn’t say anything, but his gaze flickered to the rearview mirror, watching Lexy carefully. He had been quieter than usual since they left the hospital, but his silence wasn’t indifferent—it was watchful, analytical. He wasn’t pushing her to talk, wasn’t forcing the conversation, but he was paying attention.

The precinct came into view up ahead, and Lexy felt something tense in her chest. It was a strange kind of déjà vu, pulling up to the building again. The last time she had walked through those doors, she had been a runaway with nowhere to go, no one to trust, and a rap sheet that wasn’t exactly painting her in the best light. Now, she was coming back as… what? A victim? A survivor? She didn’t know what label fit her anymore.

Morgan pulled into her usual parking spot and cut the engine. She twisted in her seat to look at Lexy. “We don’t have to stay long. Just a quick stop, make sure everyone’s caught up, and then we’ll head home.”

Home. The word still felt foreign, but Lexy nodded anyway.

She pushed open the car door, stepping out into the crisp afternoon air, the cool breeze hitting her skin as she took a slow breath. The second she moved toward the entrance, she caught Karadec subtly shifting just behind her, positioning himself like a human buffer. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make a big deal out of it, but she knew what he was doing. Watching. Ready.

Morgan led the way through the glass doors, and the moment they stepped inside, Lexy was hit with the familiar sounds of the bullpen. Phones ringing, the distant chatter of detectives at their desks, the occasional sharp clack of keyboards being used a little too aggressively. It was busy, but not chaotic. Familiar, but still slightly overwhelming.

The moment Oz spotted them, he popped up from his desk with his usual lopsided grin. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against Daphne’s desk. “Or should I say, what Karadec dragged back from the depths of hell.”

Daphne, seated next to him, shot him a sharp look before turning to Lexy. “Ignore him. He doesn’t have a filter.” Her voice was even, but Lexy could hear something under it. Relief.

Lexy forced a smirk. “Yeah, I kinda figured that out already.”

Oz gasped dramatically. “Wounded.”

Morgan shook her head, setting Lexy’s duffle bag down on her desk before turning toward Selena’s office. “We need a quick rundown of where everything stands. I want to know exactly how deep in the system Flynn is.”

Selena, who had appeared from her office the moment she saw them enter, nodded firmly. “Come with me.”

Morgan glanced at Lexy. “You good out here?”

Lexy nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Selena led Morgan into her office, leaving Lexy standing in the middle of the bullpen, suddenly feeling very aware of herself.

Daphne shifted in her chair, tilting her head slightly as she studied Lexy. “You sure you should be here? You just got out of the hospital.”

Lexy shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself without thinking. “Yeah, well. I got tired of staring at white walls.”

Daphne didn’t argue, but she didn’t look entirely convinced either. Oz, on the other hand, leaned forward with a grin. “So, are we just gonna skip over the fact that you technically died for a few seconds?”

Karadec, who had been standing nearby, shot him a sharp glare.

Oz raised his hands in surrender. “What? It’s impressive! Girl flatlined and still made it back to flip her dad off.”

Lexy rolled her eyes. “I didn’t flatline. I just… passed out.”

Oz wiggled his eyebrows. “For a long time.”

Daphne smacked him on the arm.

Lexy shook her head, but despite herself, a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. For the first time since waking up in that basement, she felt… normal. Even if it was only for a moment.

Before anyone could say anything else, Melon’s voice cut through the bullpen. “Flynn’s lawyers have been swarming my phone all damn morning,” he grumbled as he stalked toward them, his usual scowl deepening. His sharp gaze landed on Lexy. “Good to see you in one piece.”

Lexy wasn’t entirely sure if that was a compliment, but she nodded anyway.

“Any update?” Karadec asked.

Melon exhaled through his nose. “The bastard’s keeping his mouth shut. Won’t say a damn thing without a deal.” His gaze flicked to Lexy. “He still doesn’t know you’re alive.”

Lexy blinked. “Wait. What?”

Daphne leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “We kept it quiet. As far as Flynn knows, he killed you in that car.”

Lexy’s stomach twisted. It was a strange feeling, knowing that her father believed she was dead.

Karadec’s voice was low, steady. “We’re keeping it that way. For now.”

Lexy swallowed hard, nodding.

Morgan stepped back into the bullpen just as Melon turned to her. “He wants to talk,” he said, his expression unreadable. “To you.”

The bullpen went quiet.

Morgan’s expression didn’t shift. She simply exhaled and nodded. “Then let’s talk.”

Lexy, without thinking, took a small step forward. “I want to see him.”

Everyone turned to look at her.

Morgan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Lexy—”

“I need to,” she cut in. “I have to.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, Morgan sighed, rubbing her temple. “Fine. But you’re not going in there.”

Lexy swallowed, her voice quieter this time. “Then let me watch.”

Morgan hesitated, glancing at Karadec, who was watching her carefully. After a moment, she exhaled, then gave a short nod. “Alright.”

Lexy’s hands curled into fists at her sides as she steadied herself.

She was ready.

Or at least, she hoped she was.

Lexy sat stiffly at Morgan’s desk, arms crossed, her foot bouncing restlessly under the table. The bullpen hummed with quiet activity, detectives moving in and out, papers shuffling, conversations weaving into the low background noise. But all she could focus on was Morgan and Karadec, standing by the evidence board, speaking in hushed voices.

Daphne, sitting across from her, stirred her coffee idly. “You look like you’re about to vibrate straight through that chair.”

Lexy huffed. “They said I could watch.”

Oz, who had been flipping through a file, smirked. “Yeah, and I say I’m cutting back on sugar, but we both know that’s a lie.”

Daphne shot him a look. “You had three lollipops before breakfast.”

“Exactly my point.”

Lexy clenched her jaw, fingers curling around the edge of the desk. “They can’t just change their minds—”

Daphne snorted. “You’re new here, so let me explain how this works. Morgan and Karadec do exactly what they think is best, whether you like it or not. They’ll steamroll you with the force of a freight train if they have to.”

Oz gestured toward the two of them, who were still talking by the board. “You ever see a storm roll in? That’s what’s happening over there. Bet you ten bucks they’re about to drop the ‘we reconsidered’ bomb.”

Lexy’s stomach twisted.

And then—right on cue—Morgan and Karadec turned toward her. She stiffened as they approached, trying to suppress the flood of frustration already rising in her chest.

Morgan didn’t waste time. “You’re not watching.”

Lexy’s jaw clenched. “You promised—”

Karadec, steady as ever, met her eyes. “It’s not about promises. It’s about keeping you safe.”

Lexy let out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s rich, coming from the two people who just told me I wasn’t a victim anymore.”

Morgan’s face was unreadable, but there was something unmovable in her gaze. “You’re not a victim. But that doesn’t mean you have to put yourself through this.”

Lexy’s throat tightened. “I want to look him in the eye. I want him to see that I survived.”

Morgan exhaled, rubbing her temple. “Lexy…”

“I need this.” Her voice wavered just slightly. “He needs to know he didn’t win.”

Karadec shifted slightly, glancing at Morgan, but neither of them spoke. The silent exchange was all Lexy needed to see—she wasn’t winning this.

Daphne cleared her throat, stepping in before the tension snapped. “Alright, heart-to-heart time’s over. Morgan, you and Karadec go do your thing. We’ll babysit.”

Oz wiggled his fingers. “I’m very qualified. I have a certificate.”

Lexy scowled. “From where?”

“Made it myself. It’s got stickers.”

Morgan huffed out a breath, the tension in her shoulders loosening just slightly. “Alright. Just—stay here. That’s not a request.”

Lexy barely nodded.

Morgan and Karadec turned toward the interrogation room.

Lexy watched them go, her pulse still thrumming with frustration.

Daphne nudged her elbow. “So. How long before you sneak past them?”

Lexy didn’t even hesitate. “Five minutes, tops.”

Oz sighed dramatically. “At least pretend to struggle with the moral dilemma first.”

Lexy didn’t respond.

Because there was no dilemma.

She was going in.

The interrogation room was silent, save for the low hum of the overhead fluorescent lights that flickered just slightly, adding an eerie, almost cinematic quality to the moment. Andrew Flynn sat in the cold metal chair, his hands cuffed to the table, but the restraint did nothing to diminish the sheer presence of him. He exuded control, his posture too relaxed, too at ease, as if he weren’t the most hated man in the building.

Morgan sat across from him, her fingers steepled under her chin, her sharp eyes locked onto his like twin blades. Karadec leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his silent but imposing stance a warning in itself. The air was thick with tension, but Andrew didn’t seem to feel it—not in the way a normal man would. No, Andrew was the kind of man who enjoyed tension, the kind who knew exactly how to wield it.

“Hello, Morgan,” Andrew greeted smoothly, his voice almost warm, almost paternal. It was an act, of course, but the way he said her name sent a sliver of ice down her spine. “It’s good to finally sit down like this. Family, face to face.”

Morgan didn’t blink. “Cut the act. We both know I’m not here for a family reunion.”

Andrew chuckled, slow and measured, as if amused by her bravado. “No, I suppose not. But that’s what this is, isn’t it? Family? You and Alexandra—”

Morgan’s fingers twitched at the table. “Her name is Lexy.”

That earned her a small smirk. “That’s what she calls herself now, isn’t it? A shame. I always thought ‘Alexandra’ suited her better. It’s such a strong name.” He tilted his head, watching Morgan the way a predator watches prey. “But I suppose she never had much of a choice in anything, did she? Always running, always pretending she could be something she’s not.” His smirk widened slightly. “But I made sure she remembered exactly who she was.”

Morgan’s nails dug into her palm, but she kept her voice level, unwavering. “You tortured her.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even an accusation. It was a fact.

Andrew exhaled, almost theatrically, as if the word itself was offensive to him. “Torture. Such a dramatic term.” He leaned forward slightly, the cuffs on his wrists clinking against the table. “I disciplined my daughter, Morgan. I taught her the lessons she needed to learn. The world is cruel, but I gave her the strength to survive it.” He smiled, small and cruel. “And look at her now. Still breathing. Still fighting. That’s because of me.”

Karadec pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his voice a quiet warning. “You beat her within an inch of her life.”

Andrew barely spared him a glance. “She’s alive, isn’t she?”

Morgan’s entire body burned with a fury she hadn’t felt in a long time, something primal and unrelenting. It coiled in her stomach, tightening like a vice as she stared at the man across from her. She had met monsters before, had hunted them, had put them behind bars. But never in her life had Morgan Gillory wanted to kill someone more than she did right now.

She leaned forward, voice razor-sharp. “You don’t get to take credit for her strength. You don’t get to sit here and act like you made her into something good. You spent years trying to break her, and when she ran, you hunted her down like an animal. That’s not love, Andrew. That’s obsession.”

Andrew hummed, his fingers tapping idly against the table, as if considering her words. Then, after a long pause, he sighed. “You know what I find fascinating about you, Morgan?” His eyes gleamed, cold and calculating. “You think you’re so different from me. But you’re not.”

Morgan’s expression didn’t waver, but something deep in her bristled.

Andrew smiled, as if he knew he had found a nerve. “You and I—we don’t give up on the things we claim as ours. You’re sitting here, seething, because you think I stole Lexy from you. But the truth is, you’re just like me. You refuse to let her go.”

Morgan’s jaw clenched, but before she could snap back, Karadec’s voice cut through the thick tension like a blade. “Enough.” His tone was steel, firm and unyielding. “We’re not here to listen to your psychological games, Flynn.” He turned to Morgan, his voice quieter now. “Step outside.”

Morgan didn’t move. She wasn’t done yet.

Karadec’s eyes met hers, and there was something there—not an order, but something close to a plea. “Go, Gillory. Let me handle this.”

For a moment, she hesitated. Leaving meant giving up control, and she hated that. But she trusted Karadec. So, with one last glare at Andrew, she stood, pushing her chair back roughly as she turned on her heel.

Andrew’s voice followed her to the door, smooth and mocking. “That’s it, Morgan. Walk away. That’s all you ever do.”

Morgan didn’t stop. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. She slammed the door behind her.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, the tension in her chest didn’t ease—it worsened. She sucked in a sharp breath, running a hand through her hair, trying to shake the residual anger clinging to her skin like static. She wanted to go back in, to finish what she started, to wipe that smug expression off Andrew Flynn’s face permanently.

Instead, she forced herself to breathe. To think.

And then she heard Daphne’s voice, urgent and hushed. “Morgan—there’s something you need to see.”

Morgan’s head snapped up, her stomach instantly knotting. The way Daphne’s expression had shifted from its usual composed neutrality to something far more serious sent a chill down her spine. “What is it?”

Daphne hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before nodding toward the hallway. “It’s Lexy.”

Morgan didn’t wait to hear anything else. She moved.

She turned the corner just in time to see Lexy standing outside the interrogation room, her face pale, her breathing too fast, too shallow. Her wide, panicked blue eyes were locked onto the figure behind the glass, her fingers trembling as they gripped the edge of the table in front of her for support.

Morgan’s heart dropped. She shouldn’t have been here.

She was already moving, closing the distance between them. “Lex—”

Lexy flinched at the sound of her voice. And then, as if something inside her had snapped, she turned and bolted.

Morgan barely had time to react before she took off after her. Lexy’s panic attack had already begun, and Morgan wasn’t going to let her go through it alone.

Morgan barely had time to react before Lexy bolted. One second, she stood frozen outside the interrogation room, eyes locked on Andrew’s blurred reflection in the two-way glass. The next, she was gone—pushing past Daphne, shoving through the bullpen, her breath already hitching as she fought the rising tide of panic clawing at her throat.

Morgan was after her in an instant, weaving between desks and chairs, her heart pounding in sync with Lexy’s fading footsteps. “Lexy!” she called, voice sharp, urgent. No response. Just the sound of sneakers scuffing against tile, rapid, uneven, desperate. Morgan pushed harder, cutting through the space like a blade, barely registering Daphne and Oz’s startled looks as she passed them.

Lexy turned the corner too fast, her shoulder colliding hard with the wall, but she didn’t stop—she couldn’t. Her lungs burned, her pulse hammered against her skull, and everything inside her screamed run, run, run. It wasn’t rational; it wasn’t even fully conscious. It was pure survival, pure get away before he hurts you again. She barely recognized the hallway she stumbled into, the blurred overhead lights casting dizzying shadows in her vision. Her hands trembled violently as she reached for the wall, needing something—anything—to ground her, but all she felt was cold tile beneath her fingertips, and it wasn’t enough.

Morgan caught up just as Lexy’s legs buckled. She grabbed her before she could hit the floor, steadying her with firm hands on her arms. “Hey, hey, I got you,” she breathed, lowering them both down as Lexy gasped for air, her whole body shaking violently. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, erratic bursts, her fingers clawing at the fabric of her hoodie like it was suffocating her. Too tight. Too much. Trapped.

Morgan’s own heart clenched painfully. She’d seen panic attacks before, had her fair share of them in the past, but this—this was different. Lexy was spiraling, drowning in the weight of everything she’d just relived, and Morgan could feel the terror rolling off her in waves.

“Lexy, listen to me.” Morgan’s voice was low, steady, gentle but firm. She didn’t let go, didn’t let Lexy slip further into the abyss of her own mind. “You’re safe. You’re not there. He’s not here. Just breathe with me, okay?”

Lexy gasped, her head shaking frantically. She couldn’t—she couldn’t breathe. Every inhale felt like knives in her ribs, every exhale shattered before it could reach her lungs. She tried to focus on Morgan’s voice, but her father’s words were still there, echoing in the back of her skull, wrapping around her throat like a vice.

You’ll never get away from me, Alexandra.

Morgan tightened her grip just slightly, enough to anchor her, to remind her she wasn’t alone. “Okay, we’re gonna do something together,” she said, keeping her voice calm even as her own chest ached at the raw fear in Lexy’s eyes. “Five things you can see. Let’s start there.”

Lexy’s breath hitched, her vision swimming, but she forced herself to try. To focus. Her gaze darted wildly, unfocused at first, before latching onto the smallest, most real details she could cling to. “O-Oz’s stupid tie,” she choked out, barely above a whisper. It was too bright, too ridiculous for this nightmare, but somehow that made it more real.

Morgan nodded. “Good. What else?”

Lexy’s fingers curled against her sleeves, her breath still too shallow, too ragged, but she forced the words out between gasps. “Daphne’s—her laptop screen. The… the coffee stain on your sleeve. The—” she blinked rapidly, trying to focus, trying to see past the memories. “That stupid old printer in the corner. And… and the flickering light.”

Morgan exhaled, relief barely touching her own tension. “Good. That’s good, Lexy. Now, four things you can touch.”

Lexy’s hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, her fingers tingling from the adrenaline still surging through her veins. “The… the floor,” she murmured, voice unsteady. “My—my hoodie.” Her breaths were still uneven, but slower now, less frantic. “Your hands. And…” she hesitated, swallowing hard, “the—the edge of the bench.”

Morgan gave her a small nod, keeping her own breathing measured, hoping Lexy would mirror it. “Three things you can hear.”

Lexy closed her eyes for half a second, forcing herself to listen. The ringing in her ears was still there, but underneath it—beneath the panic—she could hear the hum of the precinct around her. “The air conditioning. Oz talking to Daphne.” Her voice trembled on the last one. “You.”

Morgan’s grip on her tightened just slightly. “That’s right. I’m right here.”

Lexy sucked in a shaky breath, deeper this time. The crushing weight in her chest was still there, but it was… different now. Lighter. Manageable.

Morgan didn’t let up. “Two things you can smell.”

Lexy swallowed, the sharp scent of stale coffee hitting first. “The precinct coffee. Your perfume.” It was faint, something light and subtle, but it was there.

Morgan felt some of the tension in Lexy’s frame ease, just barely. “One thing you can taste.”

Lexy exhaled shakily, closing her eyes for a beat as the remnants of her earlier meal settled on her tongue. “The milkshake,” she whispered. It was melted by now, barely more than a memory, but it was real.

Morgan finally let out a slow breath of her own, watching as Lexy’s shoulders dropped slightly, the tremors in her fingers slowing. “There you go,” she murmured, squeezing her arm just once before letting go. “You’re safe, Lexy. You’re not there anymore.”

Lexy blinked hard, her breath still uneven but no longer shattered. A tear slipped down her cheek, and before she could stop herself, she reached out, gripping onto Morgan’s sleeve like it was the only solid thing in her world.

“I—” she swallowed hard, voice raw. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you or…or anyone again, I was terrified…he was going to kill me…”

Morgan’s throat tightened, but she didn’t let go. Didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached out, brushing a hand over Lexy’s tangled hair before resting it lightly on the back of her head. “He didn’t. And he never will.” Her voice was softer now, but still fierce. Still unshakable. “You’re here. You made it out. And you’re never going back.”

Lexy let out a shaky exhale, finally—finally—letting herself believe it.

The interrogation room was colder than usual. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a harsh glow over the steel table where Marcus sat, his hands cuffed in front of him. He looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, a cut on his temple from the struggle back at the cabin, his once-pristine clothes wrinkled and stained. But despite his weary appearance, there was no defiance in his posture, no arrogance or bravado like some of the men they’d interrogated before. He just looked… resigned.

Morgan and Karadec stood on the opposite side of the table, neither taking a seat just yet. Karadec crossed his arms, his expression unreadable, while Morgan leaned forward slightly, her sharp gaze locked onto Marcus as if dissecting every detail about him. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.

Morgan was the one to break it.

“Start talking.”

Marcus exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if trying to ease the tension in them. “I assume you want the whole story.”

“Obviously,” Karadec said flatly.

Marcus sighed again, his gaze flickering between them before settling on Morgan. “I wasn’t supposed to be involved in any of this, not at first. I was just a guy good with tech, making money where I could. Flynn hired me because he knew I could crack security systems, set up firewalls, and keep his operations hidden. I didn’t ask questions—he paid well, and I didn’t want trouble.”

Morgan’s jaw clenched, her fingers drumming once against the table. “You sure as hell found trouble.”

Marcus let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Yeah. No kidding.”

Karadec leaned forward, resting both palms on the table. “When did you realize what you were actually involved in?”

Marcus hesitated, and Morgan narrowed her eyes, sensing his reluctance. “Now would be the time to stop protecting him.”

“I’m not protecting him,” Marcus muttered. He rubbed his wrists against the cuffs absently before finally meeting Karadec’s gaze. “I knew something was off from the start, but the moment I realized just how bad it was? The moment I saw what he was doing to Lexy.”

Morgan’s entire body went rigid. Karadec’s eyes darkened.

“I thought she was just another runaway at first,” Marcus admitted. “Some hacker kid that got in over her head. I didn’t know she was his daughter—not at first. But then I started seeing how he treated her. The way he talked to her. The threats. The mind games. The punishment if she stepped out of line.” His voice grew quieter. “I told myself I was just an observer. That it wasn’t my problem. But then…”

He trailed off, and for the first time since the interrogation started, Marcus looked genuinely shaken.

“Then what?” Morgan asked, her voice dangerously soft.

Marcus swallowed. “Then I heard her screaming.”

The room felt impossibly still. Morgan’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, and Karadec’s jaw tightened.

“I knew then that I couldn’t just stand by,” Marcus continued. “I started finding small ways to help—sneaking her extra food, giving her information about what Flynn was planning. And when I saw an opening to get a message out, I took it. That live feed? That was me. I knew it wouldn’t be enough, but I hoped it would at least give you something.”

Morgan stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. If he was lying, she’d know. But she didn’t think he was.

Karadec, however, wasn’t letting up. “You’re saying you tried to help her.”

“I did what I could,” Marcus replied. “And I know it wasn’t enough. I know I was complicit. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’ll take whatever deal you offer.”

Morgan folded her arms, studying him closely. “You expect us to just take your word for it?”

“No,” Marcus said simply. “I expect you to check the security logs from the cabin. The timestamps. The access records. Everything I did is in there. And I expect you to do what you have to do, whether that means locking me up for the next twenty years or cutting me a deal.”

Morgan and Karadec exchanged a look. There was no smugness in Marcus’s expression, no attempt to manipulate the situation. Just a quiet acceptance.

Karadec straightened. “We’ll talk to the DA. You give us everything—every name, every detail about Flynn’s operation—and maybe, just maybe, you won’t spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

Marcus gave a small nod. “Deal.”

Morgan didn’t respond right away. Instead, she turned and knocked on the door, signaling the officer outside. When the door opened, she glanced back at Marcus one last time. “We’ll be in touch.”

With that, she and Karadec stepped out, the door closing behind them. The moment they were out in the hallway, Morgan exhaled sharply, shaking her head.

Karadec glanced at her. “You believe him?”

Morgan was quiet for a moment before she finally said, “Yeah. I do.”

Karadec let out a breath, rubbing his face. “Great. Now we just have to make sure he holds up his end.”

Morgan didn’t say anything. She was already thinking ahead, about what came next. About how Lexy would react to all of this. Because whether Marcus was telling the truth or not, one thing was certain:

Nothing about this case was over. Not yet.

The precinct was quieter than usual, the late hour thinning the usual bustle of detectives and officers moving in and out. The bullpen still buzzed with muted conversation, but it wasn’t the chaotic energy of an active investigation. This was the aftermath. The cleanup. The part where everyone picked up the pieces and figured out what came next.

Lexy knew she shouldn’t be here.

She was supposed to be in the break room, tucked away under the watchful eyes of Daphne and Oz, but she had spent enough time being watched, being told what she could and couldn’t handle. She had survived her father. She had survived that cabin. She had survived being tied to a chair and left to rot in the dark.

She could handle one conversation.

Moving carefully, she slipped through the bullpen, her hoodie pulled up, blending into the background. Daphne was at her desk, deep in conversation with Oz, who was gesturing animatedly about something—probably another one of his weird theories about life and forensic science. They weren’t looking at her. Good.

Morgan and Karadec had already left the interrogation room, and if they had noticed she was missing yet, they hadn’t come looking. That left her window of opportunity wide open.

The hallway to the holding cells was dim, lined with metal doors and security cameras, but Lexy had spent years bypassing systems more advanced than this. She knew how to move in blind spots, how to slip past without being noticed. She reached the processing desk, spotting the officer on duty, a man flipping through paperwork, half-distracted.

Lexy took a breath, stepping forward with careful confidence.

“I need to see Marcus.”

The officer barely glanced up. “Not happening.”

She tried not to let her nerves show. “Look, I know I’m not supposed to be back here, but I just need five minutes. That’s it.”

The officer sighed, shaking his head. “You think you’re the first person to try that?”

Lexy hesitated, then pulled the oldest trick in the book. She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone, pretending to check a message. “Fine. Guess I’ll just go tell Lieutenant Soto that you wouldn’t let me see a cooperating witness. I’m sure she’ll love hearing about that.”

The officer’s jaw clenched slightly. He studied her for a long moment, then exhaled heavily. “Five minutes.”

Lexy hid her smirk.

She stepped through as the officer unlocked the door leading to the holding area. The hall was lined with cells, each one sectioned off by thick metal bars. Most of them were empty, but at the very end, Marcus sat on the bench inside his cell, his head leaning back against the wall, eyes closed.

She hesitated for only a second before stepping closer.

At the sound of her approaching footsteps, Marcus cracked one eye open, then the other. He straightened slightly, his expression shifting from exhaustion to mild surprise. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.”

Lexy crossed her arms, leaning against the bars. “Yeah, well. Thought I’d get the full ‘criminal mastermind’ experience before you get shipped off.”

Marcus let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Hardly a mastermind. If I was, I wouldn’t be in here.”

Lexy didn’t smile. She watched him carefully, weighing her words. “Why’d you do it?”

Marcus tilted his head. “Do what?”

“Help me.” Her voice was quieter now, laced with something unreadable. “You could’ve just kept your head down. You could’ve pretended you didn’t see what was happening.”

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Yeah. I could’ve.” He paused, then looked at her, really looked at her. “But I didn’t.”

Lexy swallowed hard, something tightening in her chest.

Marcus shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I told Morgan and Karadec everything. About the cabin. About what Flynn was planning. About how deep all of this went.” He let out a slow breath. “I know I can’t undo what happened. I know I was part of it for too long. But I’m not my boss. And I’m not your father.”

Lexy flinched. Not from fear, but from the weight of those words.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Marcus continued. “Hell, I don’t even expect you to believe me. But I meant what I said—I wasn’t going to let him break you.”

Lexy’s fingers curled around the edge of her hoodie sleeves, gripping the fabric tightly. She hated that she wanted to believe him. Hated that she wanted to think someone had been on her side, even when it felt like no one was.

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything.

Then, quietly, she asked, “What happens to you now?”

Marcus exhaled, leaning back against the wall. “DA’s offering me a deal. Less time in exchange for everything I know.”

Lexy nodded slowly. “You should take it.”

Marcus studied her, as if trying to gauge what she was thinking. “And if I do?”

Lexy hesitated. Then, finally, she met his gaze. “Then maybe you’re not as bad as I thought.”

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But it was something.

She pushed off the bars, taking a step back. “I should go before someone realizes I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

Marcus smirked slightly. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Lexy rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders eased just a fraction.

She turned and walked away, but before she reached the door, she hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder. “Hey, Marcus?”

He looked up.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

And then she was gone.

The bullpen was quieter than usual, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past week. Papers were stacked haphazardly on desks, evidence boards lined with photos and red strings that had, at last, led them to their victory. But despite Andrew Flynn’s arrest, there was no sense of relief—only the heavy weight of unfinished business.

Morgan sat at her desk, flipping through a case file, though her eyes barely scanned the words. She had read it a dozen times already. Across from her, Karadec was similarly preoccupied, glancing every so often toward the interrogation rooms, as if expecting something—anything—to happen.

Daphne and Oz were at their desks, working through the mountain of reports that had piled up since the rescue. Oz, ever the opportunist, twirled a lollipop between his fingers, though he hadn’t taken a single lick. The tension in the air had effectively killed his usual levity.

Lexy was nowhere in sight.

Morgan frowned, glancing around the bullpen, expecting to catch a glimpse of her blonde hair somewhere—maybe by Daphne, pretending to help, or lingering near the break room. But she wasn’t there.

She pushed her chair back, standing abruptly. “Has anyone seen Lexy?”

Daphne barely looked up. “She was here a minute ago.”

Oz swiveled his chair around, eyebrows furrowing. “Wait, actually… I don’t think I’ve seen her since we came back from grabbing those reports.”

A pit formed in Morgan’s stomach. She turned to Karadec, who immediately caught onto her unease.

“She wouldn’t,” he said, but there was no conviction in his voice.

Morgan’s gut told her otherwise. “She absolutely would.”

Her feet were moving before she even finished speaking, Karadec right beside her as they pushed through the bullpen doors and into the hallway.

Lexy Flynn had gone to see her father.

Lexy moved carefully, her heartbeat thundering against her ribs. Her hands were shaking as she moved through the hallway, she wasn’t sure what the fuck she was getting herself into, all she knew was that she was getting herself into something.

Sneaking into the holding cells was surprisingly easy. The station was familiar to her now—the placement of security cameras, the blind spots, the moments when officers changed shifts and left gaps in security. She wasn’t doing anything illegal, not exactly. Just bending the rules.

She needed to do this.

Her father sat in his cell, hands cuffed in his lap, looking every bit the man she remembered—cold, calculating, and utterly in control despite the metal bars between them.

He didn’t look surprised to see her. In fact, he smiled.

“Alexandra.”

Lexy’s stomach twisted at the sound of her full name, the way it slithered off his tongue like a vice tightening around her throat.

“You came.”

She forced herself to lift her chin, to look him in the eyes despite the nausea roiling in her gut. “I had to,” she said, voice even but strained. “I need to know why.”

Andrew leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, studying her like a puzzle he already knew the solution to. “Why what?”

Lexy swallowed. “Why you did all of this. Why you kept coming after me. Was it just control, or was it something else?”

Her father’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said softly, the mock affection in his voice making her skin crawl. “You were always mine. And you forgot that.”

Lexy clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. “I was never yours. I was your pawn. A tool. And when I stopped being useful, you hunted me down like an animal.”

His expression darkened. “That’s not how I see it.”

“Then how do you see it?”

Andrew let the silence stretch, the weight of it pressing down on her like a suffocating force. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I see a daughter who was given everything and threw it away. I see a girl who was supposed to be great, but instead, she chose to be nothing.”

Lexy flinched, but she didn’t back down. “I didn’t choose to be nothing. I chose to be free.”

Andrew laughed—low and quiet, like he found the idea utterly ridiculous. “And how has that worked out for you?”

Lexy’s breath hitched. She knew what he was doing—knew his words were meant to sink into her skin like poison. But the scars he had left behind ran deep, and for a moment, just a moment, she felt that same helplessness creeping back in.

And that’s when the door burst open.

“Lexy.”

Morgan’s voice cut through the fog in her mind, sharp and furious and afraid.

Lexy turned, eyes wide, just as Morgan and Karadec stormed inside.

Andrew chuckled, leaning back against the bench in his cell. “Ah. The cavalry arrives.”

Morgan’s gaze snapped to him, a fire burning behind her eyes that made the air feel ten degrees hotter. But she didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, she reached for Lexy’s arm, her grip firm but careful.

“What the hell are you doing?” Morgan hissed, pulling Lexy away from the cell bars. “Are you out of your mind?”

Lexy yanked her arm free, her chest tightening. “I had to talk to him.”

“No, you didn’t!” Morgan’s voice was sharp, but her eyes… her eyes were raw, filled with something that looked too much like fear. “You never have to talk to him again.”

Lexy’s breath was uneven. Her hands were shaking. But still, she looked back at her father.

Andrew was watching, his expression unreadable. But there was something there, just beneath the surface—satisfaction.

Lexy turned away.

“I’m done here,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Morgan didn’t let go of her arm until they were out of the room, until the cell door was locked behind them and the weight of Andrew Flynn’s presence was finally gone.

But as they walked back toward the bullpen, Lexy realized something—his words had still gotten under her skin.

And she wasn’t sure how to shake them off.

Morgan’s grip on Lexy’s arm was firm but not punishing as she stormed back toward the bullpen, her body thrumming with barely contained fury. Her mind replayed the image of Lexy standing face-to-face with him, her father, the man who had orchestrated all of this, who had hurt her, used her, and nearly broken her. It wasn’t just anger coursing through Morgan’s veins—it was fear, sharp and suffocating, wrapping around her throat like a vice. Because for one horrifying moment, she had imagined the worst. She had imagined stepping into that room a second too late, finding Andrew with his hands around Lexy’s throat or whispering poison into her ear, weaving his manipulations back under her skin like he had so many times before.

The bullpen was quieter than usual, the weight of the last few weeks lingering in the air like an unwelcome guest, but the second Morgan dragged Lexy inside, the energy in the room shifted. Daphne’s fingers hovered over her keyboard, her sharp eyes locking onto them instantly. Oz, mid-lollipop unwrapping, paused with the wrapper still crinkled in his grip. Karadec, standing near the evidence board, turned at the commotion, his expression instantly hardening at the sight of Morgan’s barely contained rage.

Lexy kept her head down, her hands curled into the sleeves of her hoodie as she allowed herself to be dragged forward. Morgan didn’t let go until they were both standing in the middle of the bullpen, every gaze in the room fixed on them.

“What the hell just happened?” Oz asked, his tone cautious, as if sensing that one wrong move would send Morgan spiraling.

Daphne was quieter, more perceptive, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the tension between them. “Morgan?”

Morgan inhaled sharply through her nose before finally letting go of Lexy’s arm. She didn’t take a step back, didn’t relax even an inch. “Tell them,” she ordered, her voice low and edged with something dangerous.

Lexy swallowed, shifting on her feet. “I just—”

“Tell them.” Morgan’s voice cut through the air like a blade, making Lexy flinch.

For a moment, Lexy hesitated, her gaze flickering to Daphne and Oz as if silently searching for an escape. But there wasn’t one. Morgan wasn’t going to let her run from this.

“I went to see my father,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating.

Oz was the first to react, his expression twisting into something between disbelief and concern. “You what?”

Daphne exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples as if fighting the urge to bang her head against the desk. “Lexy…”

Lexy squared her shoulders, suddenly feeling more defensive under their scrutiny. “I had to,” she insisted. “I had to see him, to—”

“To what?” Morgan snapped, stepping forward again, forcing Lexy’s attention back on her. “To hear what he had to say? To let him get in your head again? Because I promise you, Lexy, that’s all he was trying to do.”

Lexy clenched her jaw, her hands curling into fists. “I needed to prove to myself that he didn’t have power over me anymore.”

Morgan let out a sharp, bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it. “And how did that work out for you?”

Lexy’s breath hitched, her resolve flickering for just a moment.

Morgan’s voice softened just enough to make it sting worse. “You scared the hell out of me, Lexy,” she admitted, the anger still there, but something else threading through it now—something raw, something that made Lexy’s chest ache. “I almost lost you once already. Don’t make me go through that again.”

Lexy looked away, guilt weighing down her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. And this time, she meant it.

Morgan studied her for a long moment, then sighed heavily. “Go sit down.”

Lexy didn’t argue. She slumped into a chair near Daphne’s desk, her head hanging low.

Daphne let out a slow whistle, breaking the heavy silence. “Well. That was… a thing.”

Morgan didn’t respond. She turned on her heel and stormed toward the interrogation room, her heart still hammering too fast, her adrenaline still burning too hot. She needed an outlet. And Andrew Flynn was waiting.

The moment she pushed open the door, she was met with that same smug smirk, his posture relaxed as if he hadn’t just been exposed as the monster he was.

“Morgan,” he greeted, his tone almost pleasant. “I was wondering when you’d finally stop avoiding me.”

Morgan’s hands curled into fists at her sides, but before she could move, before she could say anything, Karadec was there, stepping in front of her, his presence grounding.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice low but absolute.

Morgan’s jaw tightened, her breath coming too fast. “Karadec—”

“Leave the room.”

Her eyes snapped to his, sharp and furious. “I—”

“Leave,” he repeated, quieter this time, but just as unyielding.

Morgan’s pulse thundered in her ears, but she saw it—the warning in Karadec’s expression, the way his stance didn’t budge. He wasn’t asking. He was telling her.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, muscles coiled with frustration, but she stepped back. She turned on her heel and stalked out, slamming the door behind her with enough force to make the walls tremble.

The bullpen was still quiet when she emerged, her chest tight, her hands still shaking.

Then she saw Lexy, curled in on herself in that chair, her face pale, her fingers twitching slightly against the fabric of her hoodie.

Something inside Morgan cracked.

Without thinking, she pulled a chair up beside her and sat down.

Lexy hesitated before glancing at her.

Morgan let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand down her face. “You don’t owe him anything, Lexy.”

Lexy swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then why does it feel like I do?”

Morgan’s throat tightened, but she didn’t look away. “Because he made you believe that.”

Lexy stared at her lap, her breath unsteady. “I want to hate him. I really do.”

Morgan hesitated, then reached out, resting a hand on Lexy’s wrist. Not forcing, not demanding—just there. “Then hate him. Or don’t. Feel whatever you need to feel, just don’t let him define you.”

Lexy let out a shaky breath, nodding once, but Morgan could see it—the war still raging in her mind, the battle between logic and emotion, between who she was before and who she was trying to be now.

And Morgan, for the first time in a long time, didn’t have all the answers.

Across the room, the door to the interrogation room remained closed. But the damage had already been done.

Inside the dimly lit interrogation room, Karadec exhaled slowly through his nose, letting the tension settle between them like an impending storm. Across the metal table, Andrew Flynn sat with his wrists cuffed, his fingers tapping an idle rhythm against the steel surface, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

There was something deeply unsettling about how calm he was, how utterly unaffected by the fact that his empire had crumbled, his men were either dead or in custody, and his daughter—his victim—had finally slipped through his grasp. He should have been furious, desperate, broken. Instead, he looked… entertained.

Like he was still winning.

Karadec remained standing, his stance solid, his gaze locked onto the man across from him. He wasn’t like Morgan—he didn’t let his anger speak for him. He didn’t lash out or allow his emotions to cloud his judgment. No, Karadec waited. He let the silence stretch long enough to unnerve even the most seasoned criminals.

But Andrew Flynn wasn’t just any criminal.

“You can cut the theatrics, detective,” Andrew finally said, his voice smooth, almost bored. “I assume you have me in here for a reason, so why don’t we skip the intimidation act and get to it?”

Karadec tilted his head slightly. “You seem pretty comfortable for a man who just lost everything.”

Andrew chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Oh, I didn’t lose everything. Yet.”

Karadec’s jaw ticked, but his voice remained steady. “You’re never getting out of here, Flynn. Whatever leverage you think you have? It’s gone. You’ve got nothing left but a cell and a lifetime of regrets.”

Andrew leaned back in his chair, the chain of his cuffs rattling slightly as he folded his hands in front of him. “Regrets?” he mused, raising a brow. “You say that as if you know me, detective. But tell me, Adam, do I really strike you as a man who regrets anything?”

Karadec didn’t flinch at the deliberate use of his first name. If Andrew thought he could get under his skin with that, he had another thing coming.

“I think you regret losing control,” Karadec replied evenly. “You spent years shaping Lexy into something you could use, something you could own. And now, she’s out of your grasp for good.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping just slightly. “That burns, doesn’t it?”

For the first time, Andrew’s expression twitched, the corner of his mouth dipping ever so slightly before the mask slipped back into place.

Karadec caught it.

“I don’t need to own her,” Andrew said, his voice soft, eerily gentle. “I made her. I built every part of who she is. She is because of me.” He exhaled slowly, as if explaining something simple to someone too dense to understand. “No matter where she goes, no matter what she tells herself, she’ll never be free of me. She’ll hear my voice in her head every time she doubts herself, every time she thinks she’s safe. That’s power, detective. And you can’t lock that away.”

Karadec’s grip tightened on the back of the chair across from him, his knuckles going white. He wasn’t a man easily angered, but something about the certainty in Andrew’s tone, the way he spoke as if Lexy’s suffering was a victory rather than a consequence, made his blood boil.

But he didn’t let it show.

Instead, he straightened, his gaze sharpening like a blade. “You talk a lot about power,” he said, his voice quieter now, colder. “But here’s the thing—you don’t have it anymore. Lexy isn’t yours. She never was. And the fact that you have to sit here and convince yourself otherwise?” He shook his head. “Pathetic.”

Andrew’s smirk faltered. Just a flicker, just for a second. But Karadec saw it.

He pressed on.

“You’re going to rot in a cell, Flynn,” he said, his tone almost matter-of-fact. “You won’t have your men. You won’t have money. You won’t have her. And for the first time in your life, you’ll be forgotten.” He tilted his head. “That’s what really scares you, isn’t it? Being nothing.”

Andrew inhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders just barely noticeable. He stared at Karadec, eyes calculating, cold. But there was something else there now. Something new.

Recognition.

Andrew had spent his entire life manipulating people. Breaking them. Owning them. And for the first time, he was the one being dismantled, piece by piece, by a man who didn’t need anger to destroy him.

Karadec had stripped him down to the truth.

Andrew exhaled sharply, a low chuckle escaping him, but there was no amusement in it. “I underestimated you,” he admitted. “You’re not just Morgan’s shadow, are you?”

Karadec let the silence stretch between them again, but this time, it wasn’t intimidation—it was victory.

Without another word, Karadec turned and walked to the door.

As his hand reached for the handle, Andrew finally spoke again, his voice low, deliberate. “You can lock me up, detective, but you can’t erase me. Alexandra will always carry me with her.”

Karadec stopped just for a fraction of a second, barely noticeable—but it was enough.

Then, without looking back, he pushed open the door and stepped out, letting it slam shut behind him.

The bullpen had thinned out considerably, the usual controlled chaos reduced to a low hum of ringing phones and the occasional shuffle of paperwork. The heavy weight of exhaustion settled over the few who remained, officers dragging through reports, their energy drained from the whirlwind of the last few days. The dim fluorescent lights overhead cast a dull glow over the space, making everything feel just a little more hollow.

At her desk, Morgan sat unmoving, her eyes locked on a case file that she had read so many times it had blurred into nothing but ink and frustration. Her coffee sat untouched, lukewarm, a reminder of how long she had been sitting in the same position, staring but not really seeing. Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t shut off, wouldn’t stop replaying everything that had led them here. The chase, the gunfire, the way Lexy had collapsed against her after it was over, barely holding on.

Across from her, Lexy sat curled into her chair, uncharacteristically still. The restless energy she normally carried had been replaced with something heavy, a silent weight pressing down on her small frame. She stared down at her lap, her fingers absentmindedly twisting the hem of her sleeve. It was the only movement she had made in minutes.

Morgan exhaled slowly, running a hand down her face before shifting her gaze to Karadec, who approached without a word. He set a fresh cup of coffee in front of her and then leaned against the edge of her desk, watching her with that unreadable expression of his.

“You know, normal people sleep at this hour,” he murmured.

Morgan huffed but took the coffee anyway. “Good thing I’ve never been normal.”

Karadec didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered, something unspoken hanging in the air between them. Then, in a movement so small it almost didn’t register, he reached out and brushed his fingers against the back of her hand. It was the briefest contact, the warmth of his touch fading almost as quickly as it had come, but Morgan felt it like a spark of static in the dead air.

“Thanks,” she muttered, unsure if she meant for the coffee or for something else entirely.

“For the coffee?” Karadec asked, his tone light, but there was something else beneath it.

Morgan hesitated, gripping the cup a little tighter. “For having my back.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—understanding, maybe, or something deeper—but he didn’t press. Instead, he just nodded. “Always.”

She didn’t know why that single word settled in her chest the way it did, or why it was suddenly harder to look away. But before she could dwell on it, a small thwap of something landing on Lexy’s desk pulled her focus.

Oz, seated a few desks over, had tossed a lollipop toward Lexy. “Come on, Flynn. If anyone deserves sugar therapy, it’s you.”

Lexy blinked at the candy, as if trying to process what it even was, before finally reaching for it. But she didn’t unwrap it. Just rolled it between her fingers, staring down at it in silence.

Morgan watched her, the lack of reaction gnawing at her.

“Alright,” she said, standing and stretching her stiff limbs. “We’re done here. Lexy, come on—I’m taking you home.”

Lexy barely moved at first, her hesitation so subtle it might’ve gone unnoticed if Morgan weren’t watching her so closely. But then, with a small nod, she stood, pulling her hoodie sleeves down over her hands as if trying to shrink into herself.

Karadec straightened, his posture shifting slightly, like he wanted to say something. His brows furrowed, concern etched into every line of his face, but in the end, he just nodded. “Call me if you need anything.”

Morgan met his gaze, holding it for a second longer than necessary before nodding. “Yeah. Same.”

Lexy followed her toward the exit, her movements slow, like her limbs were heavier than they should be. Morgan placed a steadying hand on her back, guiding her toward the door without a word.

The drive home was silent. The kind of silence that wasn’t just about exhaustion but something deeper, something heavier. The radio remained off, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional flick of the turn signal. Lexy sat with her cheek against the window, watching the streetlights blur past.

Morgan glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “You good?”

Lexy hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Morgan didn’t push. She just tightened her grip on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road, as they disappeared into the quiet of the city.

The drive home stretched on in a heavy silence, neither of them eager to fill it. The weight of the past few days clung to them both, thick and suffocating, refusing to loosen its grip. The city lights faded as they neared Morgan’s house, the familiarity of the quiet street almost unsettling after everything that had happened.

Lexy shifted slightly in her seat, staring out the window, her reflection barely visible in the darkened glass. She hadn’t spoken much since leaving the precinct, only offering the occasional nod when Morgan asked if she was alright. And Morgan, for all her usual insistence on cracking things open, let it slide—for now.

As she pulled into the driveway, she shut off the engine and turned to Lexy, waiting for her to move. But Lexy didn’t. She just sat there, eyes fixed on the dashboard, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve.

Morgan exhaled through her nose. “You coming in, or do I need to carry you?”

Lexy let out a small huff, barely a ghost of a laugh, but still didn’t move right away. It took her a few more seconds before she finally unbuckled her seatbelt, moving like she had to remind herself how her body worked.

Morgan got out first, taking a slow breath of the cool night air as she stepped onto the porch. The house was quiet, the porch light casting a warm glow over the front steps. It felt…normal. Or at least, as normal as anything could feel right now.

Lexy followed, hesitating slightly at the threshold. She had been here before, stayed here before, but something about stepping inside now felt different. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the way her skin still crawled with the ghost of her father’s hands, but the warmth of the house felt like an entirely different world. One she wasn’t sure she belonged in.

Morgan held the door open, raising an eyebrow when she noticed Lexy hesitating. “You need an invitation now?”

Lexy rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. She stepped inside, toeing off her shoes before heading toward the stairs without a word.

Morgan watched her go, her brows furrowing slightly. Something was off. Not just the exhaustion—that was expected—but something deeper. Lexy was usually guarded, but this was different. It was like she was trying to disappear entirely, like the walls were closing in on her, and she didn’t know how to push back.

Morgan locked the door behind her and followed, keeping her steps light as she made her way upstairs. The hallway was dim, moonlight slipping through the curtains, casting long shadows across the walls. She passed by the kids’ rooms, the soft sound of Elliot’s snoring filtering through the door, a small reminder that the world hadn’t completely fallen apart.

Lexy’s door was cracked open, the faint glow of a bedside lamp spilling into the hall. Morgan hesitated, then knocked lightly against the frame. “You need anything?”

Lexy was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor like it might give her answers. She glanced up at Morgan, her expression unreadable for a second before she shook her head. “I’m good.”

Morgan didn’t believe her for a second.

But she nodded anyway. “Alright. Try to get some sleep.”

Lexy didn’t reply, just curled up on her side, her back to the door. Morgan lingered for a moment longer before stepping back, pulling the door half-closed.

She made her way to her own room, kicking off her boots and shedding the jacket that felt too heavy on her shoulders. She should sleep. God, she needed to sleep. But the moment she sat down on the edge of the bed, she knew it wasn’t happening.

Instead, she reached for her laptop, opening it up to a documentary she’d probably already seen a dozen times. The familiar narration filled the room, but it barely registered.

Her mind was still stuck in that interrogation room. On Andrew’s smug expression. On the way Lexy had looked at him, all that pain and anger clashing together, barely held together by the fragile thread of her composure.

Morgan scrubbed a hand down her face, exhaling sharply.

She had done everything she could to keep Lexy safe. But was it enough?

Down the hall, Lexy curled tighter under the blankets, her eyes staring into the darkness. She could still feel the pressure of the cuffs around her wrists, the sting of her father’s words digging into her skin like splinters.

She told herself she was fine, clearly that was a lie. Sleep came eventually, but it wasn’t peaceful.

Not even close.

Lexy had tried.

She had tried to sleep, had tried to force herself into exhaustion, but her body was caught in a cruel cycle of restlessness. The past week had been a haze of recovery—hospital checkups, awkward conversations, Morgan hovering but never pushing, and the unbearable weight of silence when she was left alone with her own thoughts.

She had faked it well.

During the day, it was easier. She could distract herself, could pretend like she wasn’t flinching at every shadow, every unexpected sound. Could pretend like she wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder. Could pretend like the memories weren’t creeping in every time she closed her eyes.

But at night?

At night, she was defenseless.

Lexy curled deeper into the blanket, tugging it up to her chin, her body stiff as she lay motionless on the bed. The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old pipes and the muffled hum of the fridge down the hall. She knew Morgan was still awake. She always was.

Lexy squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe slowly, deeply.

The heaviness of exhaustion finally started to pull her under, and for a brief moment, she thought—maybe this time, I’ll just sleep.

But the moment her mind slipped past the waking world, she was there again.

The first thing she noticed was the cold.

Not the soft kind that brushed against skin on a chilly night, but the kind that burrowed into bones, seeped through skin, froze her from the inside out.

Her wrists ached, bound tightly behind her back. Her shoulders screamed from the strain of being pulled unnaturally. Her legs felt numb, forced into stillness for too long.

And then she heard it.

That slow, deliberate click of a knife flicking open.

Her breath caught.

Lexy tried to move, tried to force herself to pull away, to wake up—this is a dream, just a dream—but the scene played out as if she was trapped inside her own body, forced to watch.

A shadow loomed, stretching long against the concrete floor as heavy footsteps approached. She knew that scent before she even saw him—cologne, cigarette smoke, and something dark beneath it all.

Andrew Flynn stepped into view, his presence sucking all the air from the room.

Lexy’s breath turned shallow, barely moving past her throat.

He crouched in front of her, slow, controlled, resting his forearm on his knee as he twirled the blade idly between his fingers. He watched her, those sharp blue eyes locking onto hers with an amusement that made her stomach turn.

“I thought I raised you better than this, Alexandra.”

She flinched.

His tone was calm. Deceptively so.

“Running off to that woman. Thinking you could escape me.” He exhaled, shaking his head like a disappointed father scolding a misbehaving child. “After everything I’ve given you, this is how you repay me?”

Lexy clenched her jaw, trying to steel herself, but the moment she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

Her throat tightened, panic curling its way up her spine.

Andrew hummed, leaning in, tilting his head slightly as if reading her thoughts. “You always think you’re so clever.”

He lifted the knife, the sharp edge brushing against the side of her throat, pressing just enough to send a sharp, icy shock through her veins.

“But you’re not, Alexandra.”

She couldn’t breathe.

“You were never smart enough to outrun me.”

The walls closed in. The shadows stretched long, swallowing everything in their path.

“You belong to me.”

Lexy gasped—

And fell into darkness.

Morgan hadn’t planned on sleeping.

She never did when something was on her mind, and right now, everything was on her mind.

It had been a week, and still, every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Lexy in that basement.

Pale. Bloodied. Terrified.

The sight of her restrained, helpless, haunted her more than she wanted to admit. It ate away at her, in the quiet moments when there was nothing left to distract her. It was her job to protect Lexy. To make sure nothing happened to her.

And she had failed.

Morgan exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face as she sat on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV screen that had long since stopped playing anything of interest. The documentary she had thrown on as background noise had ended nearly an hour ago, but she hadn’t bothered changing it.

She wasn’t watching it anyway.

The soft creak of the house settling made her tense for half a second, her body already primed for movement before she forced herself to relax.

Morgan knew she wasn’t alone.

Even in sleep, she knew.

Lexy had been restless—Morgan had noticed. The way she hesitated before going to bed, the way her eyes darted around the room as if expecting something—someone—to be lurking in the corners.

Morgan had seen it all before.

And now, as the silence stretched, she knew—something was wrong.

She stood quietly, her steps light as she made her way toward Lexy’s room, the shadows shifting in the dim glow of the hallway light.

The door was slightly ajar.

Morgan pushed it open gently—

Just in time to hear the strangled gasp.

Lexy bolted upright, wild-eyed and breathless, her entire body trembling as she struggled to separate reality from nightmare.

Morgan didn’t hesitate.

“Lex,” she murmured, stepping into the room, keeping her voice steady, grounding.

Lexy’s head snapped toward her, her breath still ragged, still caught in the vise grip of terror.

For a moment, she didn’t look like she recognized her.

Morgan’s stomach dropped.

She had seen that look before.

Had seen it in victims, in people who had been trapped in fear for so long that it had reshaped them.

She hated seeing it on Lexy.

Morgan moved carefully, lowering herself onto the edge of the bed. “Hey,” she said, voice soft but firm. “You’re safe.”

Lexy’s fingers curled into the blanket, her knuckles white, her breath still shallow.

Morgan knew this feeling—the walls closing in, the panic creeping through veins like poison.

“Okay,” she murmured, her voice steady. “Five things you can see.”

Lexy’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to focus. “The window,” she whispered. “The blanket. The clock. The—” She hesitated, then her gaze locked onto Morgan.

Morgan held it.

“You,” Lexy finished, voice barely above a whisper.

Morgan exhaled, something easing in her chest. “Good. Four things you can feel.”

Lexy’s grip on the blanket loosened. “The sheets. My hoodie. The pillow. And…” She reached forward, pressing her fingers lightly against Morgan’s wrist, feeling the steady pulse beneath her skin.

Morgan stilled.

Lexy swallowed. “Three things I can hear.”

The panic didn’t fade all at once.

But it eased.

Little by little.

Until Lexy’s breathing had steadied, until her hands were no longer trembling, until the shadows weren’t so suffocating.

Morgan let out a breath, nodding. “Better?”

Lexy hesitated, then—slowly—nodded.

Morgan squeezed her arm, standing. “Try to get some rest,” she said quietly. “I’ll be right outside.”

Lexy didn’t respond, but this time, she wasn’t trembling anymore.

Morgan lingered outside the door, exhaling softly.

She wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

And that was fine.

Because making sure Lexy was safe was more important.

Lexy’s breathing was still uneven, her body trembling despite the warmth of the blankets tangled around her. Her mind was trying to claw its way back to reality, but the nightmare’s grip hadn’t fully loosened yet. The feeling of the ropes digging into her skin, the cold steel against her throat, her father’s voice dripping venom as he whispered her name—it all clung to her like a second skin.

She could still feel it.

Still see it.

Still hear it.

Lexy curled in on herself, trying to force the images out of her head, trying to remind herself that she wasn’t there anymore, that she was safe. But her body didn’t seem to believe it. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, her chest felt too tight, and no matter how many deep breaths she took, the panic still sat heavy in her lungs.

A soft rustle made her flinch.

Morgan.

She was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her carefully. She hadn’t left, hadn’t moved, hadn’t taken her eyes off of her since she woke up screaming.

Lexy clenched her jaw, forcing herself to sit up, even though her limbs still felt like lead. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, rubbing her hands over her arms, trying to stop the residual tremors.

Morgan didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t buy it for a second.

“You’re not fine.” Her voice was quiet, but firm.

Lexy’s fingers curled into the blanket. “I will be,” she said, but the words felt hollow even to her.

Morgan studied her, her sharp gaze taking in every detail—the way Lexy’s shoulders were still drawn up tight, the way her fingers kept twitching against the fabric, the way her eyes flickered toward the shadows of the room as if expecting something—someone—to be there.

She leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “You want to talk about it?”

Lexy’s jaw clenched. She wanted to say no. She wanted to shove it all down, push it away, pretend it wasn’t still clawing at her insides. But lying felt pointless.

She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Morgan’s eyes. “It was him,” she said finally. Her voice barely above a whisper. “It was the cabin. The chains. The knife. It felt so real.”

Morgan nodded slowly, like she was giving Lexy the space to say more, but not pushing her.

Lexy exhaled shakily, rubbing her hands over her face. “I thought I was gonna die. That I’d never get out. That I’d never see you again.”

Morgan’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind her eyes—something raw. “You did get out.”

Lexy let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Yeah. After you and Karadec nearly got yourselves killed trying to save me.”

Morgan’s lips pressed together, but she didn’t argue. Because it was true.

Silence stretched between them, thick with words left unsaid.

Lexy shifted slightly, the weight of it all still pressing against her ribs. “I hate this,” she muttered.

Morgan arched a brow. “Hate what?”

“This. Feeling like this. Like I’m weak.” Her fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Like I can’t even sleep without—without—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “It’s pathetic.”

Morgan’s gaze darkened, her voice steel. “It’s not pathetic.”

Lexy scoffed. “Yeah? Then what is it?”

Morgan leaned forward, her voice quiet but unwavering. “It’s surviving.”

Lexy blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in her tone.

Morgan didn’t look away. “What you went through… it doesn’t just go away. It doesn’t disappear because you want it to. You’re not weak for struggling. You’re not weak for being scared. That bastard spent years trying to break you. And he didn’t.”

Lexy swallowed hard, looking away.

Morgan continued, softer now. “You’re allowed to feel this, Lexy. You’re allowed to be pissed off, and scared, and angry. That doesn’t make you weak. That makes you human.”

Lexy’s throat felt tight. She hated how much those words hit, how much she wanted to believe them.

Morgan exhaled through her nose, sitting back slightly. “I used to think the same thing, you know. That if I ignored it, pushed it down, kept moving, it would just… go away.”

Lexy glanced at her, eyebrows furrowed. “Did it?”

Morgan’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “No.”

Silence again. But this time, it felt different.

Lexy swallowed, the tightness in her chest easing just a fraction. She hesitated, then murmured, “Can you just… stay? Just for a little while?”

Morgan didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Of course.”

She shifted, pulling the blanket over Lexy’s shoulders before settling into the chair beside the bed.

Lexy closed her eyes, still feeling the echoes of the nightmare, but… it wasn’t as suffocating now.

Because Morgan was still there, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

The Major Crimes bullpen had never felt so stifling. The usual white noise of ringing phones, the low murmur of conversation, and the rhythmic clatter of keyboards blurred together, pressing in on Morgan as she sat at her desk, barely aware of the movement around her. The case had been wrapped up, paperwork mostly filed, but exhaustion still clung to the edges of her mind, a thick fog she couldn’t shake. She had slept—technically—but only in the way someone drowning momentarily surfaced for air before being dragged back under.

Lexy’s nightmare still echoed in her head. The gasping breaths, the way her cousin had jolted awake as if she had been physically pulled from the memory, the raw fear in her eyes. Morgan had calmed her down, reassured her, but the weight of it hadn’t left. It wasn’t just that Lexy had been through hell—it was that Morgan hadn’t been there for most of it. And that knowledge sat in her chest like an anvil.

She tapped her pen against the edge of her desk, her fingers twitching with restless energy, her eyes scanning a report she had read twice already without processing a single word. Across the bullpen, Daphne and Oz were working through their own tasks, exchanging quiet remarks between them. Selena had been in and out, ensuring the last of the necessary reports were filed before closing the book on this case for good.

Morgan wasn’t supposed to be here. Not this late. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave.

Karadec had noticed. He always did.

From his desk, he watched her, sharp eyes catching every tell—the stiffness in her shoulders, the way she rubbed at her temples when she thought no one was looking, the rare absence of some offhanded joke. She had been off all day, quieter, withdrawn. The others had noticed too, but they weren’t sure what to do with it. Oz had cracked a joke earlier about her looking like she had lost a fight with a bus, but Morgan had only given him a tired smirk before deflecting, and that was that.

Daphne had tried the softer approach. “Morgan, you eat today?”

Morgan had blinked, as if the question had come from nowhere. She had frowned slightly, trying to recall. “…I had coffee.”

Karadec had sighed. “That’s not eating.”

“Has calories,” she had muttered before returning to her work, effectively shutting down the conversation.

Selena had given her a long, assessing look before finally moving on. No one wanted to push, but Karadec could feel the weight of unspoken concern in the room.

Now, as the bullpen emptied for the night, Karadec remained, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as he waited. He knew her. Knew the way she worked, the way she pushed herself past the point of exhaustion like she was trying to outrun something.

She wasn’t going to leave, not until someone made her.

The bullpen was quiet now, save for the low hum of the overhead lights and the occasional shuffling of papers. The air felt heavier without the usual chatter, the emptiness amplifying the weight in Morgan’s chest. She had convinced herself she just needed a little longer—just a few more minutes to sort through the last of the files, to let her mind settle before she went home.

But she wasn’t fooling anyone.

Karadec stepped up to her desk, leaning against the edge of it, his arms crossed. She felt him there before she looked up, and when she finally did, there was something in his expression that made her stomach tighten.

“Morgan.”

She sighed. “If you’re here to tell me to go home—”

“I am telling you to go home.”

Her jaw tensed. She wasn’t in the mood for this, not tonight. “I just need a little longer.”

Karadec didn’t budge. “You said that an hour ago.”

She rubbed at her temple, exhaustion pressing into her skull. “I’m fine, Karadec.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “No, you’re not.”

Something in her snapped then, irritation flaring despite the exhaustion weighing her down. She shot him a look, something sharp and defensive. “Why do you care?”

Karadec’s jaw tightened. “Because you’re running yourself into the ground, and I’m not going to sit here and watch you do it.”

The words hit harder than she expected. There was no teasing in his tone, no sarcasm—just something raw, something real. And that unsettled her more than anything else.

She pushed back from her desk, standing too fast, and for a split second, the world tilted.

Karadec’s hands were on her before she could register what had happened—one gripping her wrist, the other steadying her arm. His touch was firm, grounding, and the warmth of it sent a jolt up her spine.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

Morgan swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

His grip didn’t loosen. “No, you’re not,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

The tension between them crackled, something fragile and unspoken threading between them. His fingers were still curled around her wrist, his thumb brushing against her pulse, and she hated the way her breath hitched at the contact.

Karadec exhaled slowly, like he was debating something. Then, softer, “Morgan. Go home.”

She wanted to argue. She really did. But she was so damn tired.

“…Fine,” she muttered. “But only because you’re really annoying when you want to be.”

Karadec smirked. “It’s a talent.”

But the concern in his eyes didn’t fade as he let go of her wrist.

And for the first time that day, Morgan felt the full weight of how exhausted she really was.

Morgan had barely settled onto the couch when the knock came. It was late—past midnight—but she hadn’t expected to sleep anyway. Sleep felt impossible when her mind was still tangled with thoughts of Lexy, of the case, of everything she hadn’t been able to fix. The TV was on, muted, the soft glow of the screen casting flickering shadows against the dimly lit living room.

She hesitated for a second before standing, stretching the stiffness from her limbs as she made her way to the door. The weight of the day clung to her, exhaustion pulling at her bones, but when she opened the door and found Karadec standing there, hands in his jacket pockets, something inside her stilled.

She blinked at him, startled. “Karadec?”

“You keep saying my name like you weren’t expecting me.”

“I wasn’t expecting you. It’s almost one in the morning.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Yeah. And you’re still awake.”

She hated how easily he saw through her.

Morgan let out a breath, stepping aside. “You coming in, or are you just here to make observations from my porch?”

Karadec didn’t hesitate, stepping inside as she shut the door behind him. The air between them shifted—something subtle but tangible, like the space had just become too small.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV. Morgan moved toward the couch, sinking onto it with a sigh, pulling the blanket over her legs more out of habit than anything. Karadec followed, pausing for a second before settling beside her. He didn’t sit on the opposite end, didn’t put a safe distance between them. He was there, close enough that their knees brushed when he leaned back, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy, thick with everything unsaid.

Morgan exhaled, rubbing her hands over her face. “You checking up on me?”

Karadec’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Someone has to.”

She let out a dry laugh. “You say that like I’m some fragile thing that needs monitoring.”

Karadec didn’t react right away, just watched her, his gaze steady. “I don’t think you’re fragile,” he said, and there was something in his tone that made her heartbeat stutter slightly. “I think you carry too much. And I think sometimes you don’t realize when it’s crushing you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected that—not from him. Not from someone who usually met her sharp edges with his own.

Morgan swallowed, shifting slightly, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m fine, Adam.”

“Are you?”

She turned her head, meeting his gaze fully now, and there was something there—something deep, something unreadable in the way he was looking at her. His expression wasn’t teasing, wasn’t judgmental. It was open. Honest.

And that was dangerous.

She scoffed, looking away. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

For a moment, she thought that would be the end of it. That he’d leave it there, let her keep up the walls she had spent years perfecting. But then, before she could react, she felt his fingers brush against her wrist.

It was barely a touch, just the ghost of contact, but it sent a bolt of warmth through her. He didn’t grab her, didn’t hold her there—just traced the inside of her wrist lightly, as if testing something.

Her breath hitched. She should pull away. She should.

But she didn’t. Instead, she let him.

His fingers lingered, just for a second longer than necessary, before he pulled back, his hand retreating to rest against his own knee. Morgan exhaled, slow and steady, as if she were trying to regain control of something she didn’t understand.

Karadec shifted beside her, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his thighs. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “Morgan.”

She tilted her head slightly, but didn’t look at him. “Hmm?”

“You don’t have to do this alone.” She closed her eyes for a second, exhaling. “You said that already,” she muttered.

Karadec let out a quiet breath. “Yeah. Because you don’t listen.”

That made her smile, just a little, and she finally turned her head to look at him again. His face was close—closer than she had realized. The dim light softened the sharp angles of his features, but his eyes were steady, watching her with that same unreadable intensity.

Her gaze flickered downward for half a second—to his mouth, before she caught herself and forced her eyes back up.

Karadec saw it.

She knew he saw it.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he reached out again, slower this time, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. The backs of his fingers grazed her cheek as he tucked it behind her ear, his touch light, deliberate.

Morgan didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Her pulse pounded against her ribs, a steady thrum she was sure he could hear.

His hand lingered for a second, his fingers barely grazing her skin, before he finally pulled back.

Silence stretched between them, charged and unbearable.

Morgan swallowed hard, forcing her voice to work. “I should tell you to leave.”

Karadec didn’t smirk this time, didn’t tease. His voice was softer when he responded. “You could.”

She inhaled sharply.

“But you won’t.”

A beat.

Then—finally—she exhaled, her shoulders relaxing, the fight draining from her.

“No,” she murmured. “I won’t.”

Karadec nodded once, a silent agreement passing between them.

She didn’t move away. He didn’t, either.

For a long time, they just sat there, the tension settling into something quieter, something neither of them was ready to name.

Morgan let her eyes drift shut for just a second, her body finally giving into exhaustion. And when she shifted, just slightly, resting the barest weight of her shoulder against his, Karadec didn’t pull away.

His breathing stayed steady, even, like he had expected it.

And when her head tilted, when the exhaustion finally won and she let herself lean into the warmth of him—just for a moment, just until the weight in her chest felt a little lighter—Karadec stayed.

He didn’t move, he didn’t push, he just let her rest.

The precinct had a different energy the next day. Not the frantic rush of a new case, not the quiet tension of an investigation still unsolved—something lighter, something Morgan hadn’t felt in weeks. It was over. The case was closed, the last reports were filed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there wasn’t a weight pressing down on everyone’s shoulders.

Morgan leaned against Karadec’s desk, arms crossed, watching as Daphne and Oz bickered over something trivial. He was standing over her chair, arms gesturing wildly, while she scrolled through something on her screen with the unimpressed expression of a woman who had been dealing with him for years.

“I’m just saying,” Oz argued, “there is absolutely no way you’re still beating me in our precinct rankings. The math doesn’t add up.”

Daphne arched a brow, tapping her screen. “I’m literally looking at the data right now.”

Morgan smirked. “You questioning Daphne’s math, Oz?”

He opened his mouth, then promptly shut it, sighing dramatically. “Fine. I concede.”

Daphne grinned, triumphant. “As you should.”

Karadec, standing beside Morgan, let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’d think he’d learn by now.”

“Some people never do,” Morgan murmured, glancing at Oz with mock pity. “RIP.”

“Wow,” Oz muttered. “The betrayal.”

Selena strode in then, looking over at them with a smirk. “Are you all actually working, or have we officially lost you to chaos?”

Morgan shrugged. “Bit of both.”

Selena shook her head, but there was no real reprimand in it. “Well, if you’re done annoying each other, consider yourselves dismissed for the day. No new cases until Monday. Enjoy it while you can.”

Oz threw up his hands. “Sweet freedom!”

Daphne snorted, already gathering her things. “You act like you don’t practically live here.”

Morgan let out a slow breath, pushing away from Karadec’s desk. “Well, boss’s orders. I’m out of here.”

Karadec glanced at her, something flickering behind his eyes—something unspoken but there. “You actually planning to rest this weekend?”

Morgan smirked, tilting her head slightly. “You implying I don’t?”

Karadec gave her a look, Morgan knew that look as she sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll try.”

Selena gave them both a knowing glance before heading off, while Oz and Daphne followed, continuing their bickering. Karadec lingered a second longer, his gaze still on Morgan, as if making sure she actually planned to go home.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m going, Karadec.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he smirked anyway. “See you Monday, Morgan.”

She smirked back. “See you Monday, Adam.”

His expression shifted for just a second at the sound of his name, something softer flickering across his face before he turned and walked off. Morgan let herself watch him go for a moment, just a moment, before shaking her head and heading out.

TIME SKIP: ONE MONTH LATER

Morgan’s house had never felt this full.

Laughter filled the air, a warmth settling into the space that had been missing for far too long. The scent of dinner lingered, mixing with the sound of dishes clinking and the occasional noise of laughter.

Lexy was here. Not as a temporary guest, not as a kid with nowhere else to go—she was here. And she had been for a month now.

Morgan had seen the changes in her, subtle at first but growing stronger every day. She still had bad nights, still struggled with therapy sometimes, but she was better. Lighter. She smiled now, not just those small, guarded ones, but real ones.

Ludo, ever the dramatic one, stood by the kitchen, arms crossed. “You do realize this is officially the loudest dinner we’ve had in years, right?”

Morgan smirked, sipping her drink. “What, can’t handle a little chaos?”

Ludo scoffed. “Oh no, I thrive in chaos. But this? This is next level.”

Ava and Elliot were in the middle of a ridiculous debate—something about superheroes and who would win in a fight. Lexy, to Morgan’s amusement, had joined in, throwing in a very strong opinion on the matter.

“No, no, listen,” Lexy argued, gesturing wildly. “You’re all wrong. The physics alone prove that—”

“NERD!” Elliot shouted gleefully.

Lexy gasped, hand to her chest. “How dare you!” Ava cackled. “You walked right into that one.”

Morgan watched it all unfold, something warm settling deep in her chest.

Ludo nudged her. “You’re doing that thing again.” She arched a brow. “What thing?”

“The proud mom thing.” She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

But he wasn’t wrong, and she didn’t mind.

Later, when the noise had settled and the kids were off watching a movie, Morgan found Lexy sitting on the porch, looking up at the sky. She stepped outside, leaning against the railing beside her.

“You hiding?” Morgan asked, smirking. Lexy huffed a laugh. “Maybe a little.”

Morgan studied her for a moment, then exhaled slowly. “I’ve been thinking.”

Lexy glanced at her, wary but curious. “Yeah? Morgan nodded. “You don’t have to leave.”

Lexy went still. “What?”

Morgan turned, facing her fully. “You don’t have to leave,” she repeated, voice softer this time. “I want you to stay. Permanently.”

Lexy blinked, processing the words like she wasn’t sure they were real. “You mean… like stay stay?”

Morgan smirked. “Yeah, Lex. Stay stay.” The younger girl swallowed, glancing away. “You sure? I mean, I—I’m a lot, Morgan.”

Morgan snorted. “And you think I’m not?” Lexy let out a shaky laugh, but there was something raw in her eyes.

“You belong here,” Morgan said, quieter now. “And I want you to know that.”

Lexy didn’t speak for a moment, just stared at her hands. When she finally did, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“…Okay.”

Morgan arched a brow. “Okay?”

Lexy exhaled sharply, looking up with a real smile. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll stay.”

Morgan let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Good.”

Lexy hesitated, then, in a rare moment, she leaned over—just for a second—hugging Morgan quickly before pulling back.

Morgan pretended not to notice the way Lexy wiped at her eyes afterward.

She didn’t say anything about how she might’ve done the same.

Instead, she smirked. “Guess that means I really have to make space in the closet now.”

Lexy groaned. “I regret everything.” Morgan laughed, nudging her as they headed back inside.

Inside, their family was waiting.

And this time, they were whole.