Page 132 of The Mourning Throne
Shielding.
“You touch him again,” Lex whispered, barely audible. “And I’ll kill you.”
Chapter 24
Noah clutched his side, palm pressing into the gaping wound like he could stop the blood pouring out of it. But his eyes never left Lex.
“Lex, please,” Noah gasped, voice cracking on the weight of it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He—hebrainwashed you. Jesus, let me fuckinghelp.”
He reached out again. Shaking. Pathetic.
Lex took one step back. Put himself squarely between Morgan and Noah.
If Morgan could move… there was no way. His body had gone mute, every signal dulled and drowned. Legs dead. Arms useless. He was still upright, somehow, spine pressed to the wall—but every second bled that strength thinner.
So he watched.
Watched Lex’s shoulders rise. Once. Twice. Watched the sweat slide down the back of Lex’s neck, pooling into the collar of his shirt.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Lex said, low, as if he was talking to himself. Not Noah. Not Morgan. “I’m done with you.”
Noah’s mouth opened, but Lex was still talking.
“I’m not coming with you. I’m not answering your texts. I’m not playing this stupid, childish game with you any more.”
“Wait—”
“You’re going to take Ollie. You’re going to leave. And you’re never coming near me again.”
Noah’s expression cracked, the laughter too high and bright.
“You don’t mean that.”
“You betterfuckingbelieve I do. Foryoursake.”
Morgan could barely keep his eyes open, but he forced them to stay on Lex. On the way he stood between them like a wall he hadn’t known he needed.HisLex. Shoulders trembling, hand clenched around the knife. Too firm and stable for this chaotic world.
Lex didn’t stop.
“Whatever story you’ve told yourself—about us, about what we were—it’s not real. God, Ihatedyou, Noah. I hated everything about you. All you’ve ever been is a problem. Do you know that I washappywhen I moved out of our trailer? Because I knew I wouldn’t be sharing a room with you ever again.”
Noah blinked once. Something inside him broke. Morgan could see it dripping out, dark and thick. Like a wound that had never healed properly.
Now it never would.
Noah didn’t speak. Didn’t scream. Just walked, slow and staggering, to the cage.
He unlocked it without a word.
Tossed Ollie over his shoulder like a sack of meat.
Then he left.
The door slammed behind him. Rattled the walls.
Morgan’s body gave out the second the latch clicked shut. His knees buckled, spine curling down the wall until he hit the floor. The suite was unrecognizable—splintered wood, cracked drywall, the metallic tang of blood too thick in the air.
Every breath tasted like rust.
