Page 108 of The Mourning Throne
“A—and,” Lex started, wincing when his voice didn’t come out as smooth as he wanted. “Andwhyis that..?”
Morgan glanced over.
“Why do you think, Lex? Go sit down. Record. It keeps you relaxed.”
Lex didn’t protest. But his stomach curled, hot and sour.
Just a few days ago, he was the one giving commands. Now he was the one being handled—redirected like afucking child.
Like Morgan thought he couldn’t be trusted.
Lex forced a smile. “Alright.”
But it wasn’t fine.
Inside, something screamed.
What the fuck was all of that for? All thetime and effort, he’d put into picking out the cage? Into figuring out thebest wayto get Ollie into it? Into humming thatfucking song for days and daysso Ollie could get used to it?
All of it. Down the drain. Twoseconds flat.
He stood back, quiet, and let Morgan take control. Let him open the case. Let him pull out two objects Lex couldn’t fully see until Morgan kneeled beside Ollie.
One was a knife.
The other was a needle.
“Simon says,” Morgan said, dry as hell, “choose.”
Ollie stiffened. He glanced at Lex again, almost pleading.
Lex couldn’t get himself to play along.
“There’s no right answer. Both suck.”
Ollie’s lips trembled. He looked between the two instruments like he could outthink them.
Like choosing one would make the other disappear.
It wouldn’t.
Lex should have been recording now. He should've been savoring the moment, excited to rewatch it again later.
Was he?
Hell no.
Morgan looked over at him, eyes narrowed. The little mole under his eye crinkled.
Lex knew what that look meant. The,what’s wrongone.
Fuck him. He knew what was wrong.
One goddamn breakdown—one second of weakness—and now it was all back to square one.
Ollie’s voice broke through the thoughts, soft and already full of tears. “Needle. I think.”
The needles were Morgan’s favorite, so he’d earn fucking points somewhere.
