The golden light of the setting sun glinted off Morgan's windshield, momentarily blinding her. She squinted against the glare, gripping the steering wheel tighter until her knuckles turned white. Her foot pressed down hard on the accelerator, sending the car hurtling down the highway at a dangerous speed.
"Come on, come on," she muttered to herself, her eyes darting back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror, searching for any sign of the van. "Where are you?"
As the miles flew by, panic began to set in. Had they lost him? Was Sarah still alive? She couldn't bear the thought of losing another innocent person to this monster—not after everything she'd been through herself.
In moments like these, memories of her time in prison would surface—memories of dark, cramped cells and the sickening smell of fear that clung to the air. It was those experiences that had made her who she was today: a fiercely determined woman who refused to let the darkness win.
As Morgan pulled into the rural lakeside community, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the narrow streets. Her hands were clammy on the wheel as she scanned the area for Greg's van. The quietness of the place was eerie, as if every resident had locked themselves away to escape the terror lurking outside.
"Come on, come on," she muttered under her breath, squinting through the fading light. She could feel the pressure mounting; every second that passed could mean life or death for Sarah.
"Where the hell is he?"
Just then, a cacophony of sound filled the air—choppers sweeping low overhead, their searchlights slicing through the darkness. Morgan felt a brief surge of hope. They were closing in on him; she could feel it. But where?
As Morgan ventured further, the quaint lakeside houses gave way to vast expanses of open land. She found herself on the outskirts of the community, surrounded by nothing but rolling fields and the distant glimmer of the lake.
A crackling static noise broke through the tense silence, and Morgan's radio sprang to life. "Agent Cross, do you copy? We have a potential sighting of the van near the north side of the lake. Proceed with caution."
"Copy that," Morgan replied, her heart racing. This was it—the moment she'd been waiting for. With renewed determination, she floored the accelerator, her car speeding toward the lake and the showdown that awaited.
Morgan's eyes darted back and forth, scanning the landscape for any sign of the van. Sweat trickled down her forehead, the result of both nerves and the oppressive heat. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the fields and painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Time was running out.
"Come on, come on," she muttered under her breath, her voice taut with frustration.
And then she saw it—a flash of white through the trees, a glint of metal reflecting the dying rays of sunlight. The van.
Finally. She breathed, relief flooding her veins as she steered the car to the side of the road.
Adrenaline pumped through her body as she leaped from the driver's seat and sprinted toward the van. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat echoing her desperate need to find Sarah alive.
"Please be okay," she whispered as she reached the van, her hand trembling as she yanked open the door. "Damn it!" Morgan hissed, her hopes dashed in an instant. The van was empty, devoid of any trace of either kidnapper or victim. Greg had already taken Sarah somewhere else.
Think, Morgan, think, she urged herself, her mind racing as she scanned the area. There had to be a clue here—something that would lead her to Sarah.
"Agent Cross, what's your status?" The voice crackled through her radio, jolting her back to reality.
"Found the van," she replied, struggling to keep the bitterness from her voice. "It's empty. He's moved her."
"Understood," the voice replied, somber and grim. "We'll send backup to your location. Keep searching."
"Copy that," Morgan said before clipping the radio back onto her belt.
Where are you, Greg? she thought, her gaze sweeping over the desolate landscape. And where the hell have you taken Sarah?
She paced around the van, her eyes raking over the ground for any clue that might help her find them. "Time to get creative."
As the last remnants of sunlight faded from the sky, Morgan Cross knew that the clock was ticking louder than ever. And she wouldn't rest until she'd found Sarah Johnston and brought Greg Folger to justice.
Panic gripped Morgan's chest like a vice as she sprinted toward the lake, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, drowning out the distant hum of the choppers overhead. The waning light cast eerie shadows through the trees, making it difficult to see anything clearly.
As she burst through a final clump of trees, the scene that greeted her was both breathtaking and terrifying. A rocky crag loomed above the lake, far higher than she'd anticipated. Jagged rocks jutted out from its unforgiving surface, and below, the dark waters churned ominously.
"Sarah!" Morgan called out, her voice barely audible over the roar of the wind. "Can you hear me?"
But there was no response. Only the howl of the wind and the foreboding echo of the lake answered her desperate plea.
She knew Greg was unstable, unpredictable, but there had to be a reason he'd chosen this spot for his twisted game.
"Agent Cross, any sign of them?" a voice crackled through her radio, snapping her back to reality.
"Negative," Morgan replied, her eyes scanning the crag for any hint of movement. "I'm at the lake now. It's...he's taken her up there, on the cliff. I just know it."
"Alright, be careful," he warned. "We've got your back, but remember, he's dangerous."
"I know," Morgan said, her knuckles white around the radio. "But I can't just stand here and wait. I have to try."
With that, she began her treacherous ascent up the rocky crag, every step a calculated risk as she searched for any signs of Greg and Sarah. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear and adrenaline fueling her determination.
And then she heard it – a scream, shrill and terrified, slicing through the chilling wind. It spurred Morgan into action, her muscles screaming in protest as she pushed herself up the last few feet to the edge of the cliff.
As she crested the ridge, her eyes locked onto the horrifying scene before her. There, at the edge of the precipice, stood Greg Folger. He was holding Sarah by her wrists, her body dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. The wind whistled through the air, whipping Sarah's hair around her face, her wide eyes filled with terror.
The deafening roar of the helicopter blades drowned out Morgan's frantic heartbeat as she crouched low behind a boulder, her eyes locked on Greg and Sarah. The voice from the chopper crackled through the air, announcing Greg's imminent capture. "You're surrounded! There's nowhere to run!"
Morgan watched as Greg's gaze snapped upward, momentarily distracted by the sudden intrusion. She seized the opportunity to examine the scene before her. With a sickening realization, she saw the weight tied to Sarah's ankle - he was ready to send her plummeting into the water below.
"Stay back!" Greg shouted, his voice cracking under the strain. "I'll do it!"
"Greg," Morgan whispered to herself, her mind racing as she tried to formulate a plan to save Sarah. She couldn't let this man take another life. But how could she reach Sarah without risking them both?
"Let her go!" the voice from the helicopter continued. "This doesn't have to end like this!"
"Like hell it doesn't!" Greg screamed, his eyes blazing with madness. "This is the only way!"
"Think about what you're doing, Greg," Morgan murmured under her breath, inching closer to the pair. Her fingers tightened around her gun, knuckles turning white. "There has to be a better way."
"Shut up! All of you, just shut up!" Greg yelled, his free hand clenching into a fist. "You don't know anything about me or what I've been through!"
"Actually, I think I do," Morgan thought, trying to tap into the empathy that had once guided her actions as an agent. She knew pain, loss, and fear intimately - but she also knew that they didn't have to define a person forever.
"Enough!" Greg roared, his grip on Sarah's wrist tightening to the point where it looked like he might break her bones. "I'm done playing games!"
"Please!" Sarah whimpered, tears streaming down her face. "I don't want to die!"
"Neither do I," Morgan thought, her heart aching for the young woman who had been caught up in this nightmare. She couldn't stand by any longer - she had to act.
"Greg, listen to me!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos as she stepped out from her hiding place. She had one chance to save Sarah's life, and she wouldn't let it slip away.
Morgan's heart pounded in her chest, the wind whipping her hair around her face as she tried to focus on the scene unfolding before her. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of desperation and determination, but she knew she had to maintain control. She quickly raised her hand to the radio clipped to her shoulder.
"Chopper One, stand down," she ordered, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "I can handle this."
"Are you crazy, Cross?" came the incredulous response from the officer in the chopper. "He's got a hostage!"
"Trust me," Morgan said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She slowly approached the edge of the cliff, holding her hands up to show she was unarmed. Sarah's screams rang in her ears, igniting a fire within her that burned away any doubt or fear.
She couldn't let another innocent life be lost.
Steeling her resolve, she prepared to make a move.