Dexter's Cabin
Dexter sat at the worn wooden table, spinning a hunting knife between his fingers. The dim lamp cast flickering shadows across the blade.
Hannah McCarthy.
Her existence changed everything. Someone who knew his truth and had nothing to lose. Someone who wanted revenge, but unlike others before her, she hadn't made the mistake of coming at him directly.
He needed to decide his next move.
1. Hunt her first. Cut the threat at its root before she could act.
2. Run. Disappear again, start fresh—but where? He had no Harrison, no Debra, no reason to keep running.
3. Wait. Let the police get involved, see what cards Hannah really held.
No option was perfect.
He slid the knife into his pocket and stood.
The game had begun.
F
And this time, Dexter Morgan wasn't the only predator in the forest.
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