Page 57 of The Mourning Throne
Then—finally—the blade plunged deep. Just under the ribs. Upward.
Pete made one last sound, almost a sigh, before his body slackened. His weight collapsed backward into Morgan’s arms, like wet cloth hitting stone.
Morgan lowered him gently, plucking the mirror from Pete’s clawed hand. The fingers were still twitching, just barely—an involuntary spasm, meaningless and final. Apersonal parting gift. A reflection of his final moments, streaked with fingerprints and blood.
Pete would live forever in this little compact.
The wallet and phone he’d dispose of somewhere else. Another trash can. Somewhere away from the body and restaurant.
So many moving pieces. So many small, careful lies to leave in London.
Morgan wiped the knife on his pants, sliding it back into his jacket as he stood.
Lex was still filming when Morgan turned back to the car.
“Are you done pouting now?” Morgan called, voice just loud enough to carry.
“I’m good!” Lex called back, leaning out of the driver’s side window with his thumb raised.
Morgan nearly laughed.
Spoiled rotten. Lex had no thought for anything except what pleased him. No patience for process, no respect for pace. But hewatched.Always.
Back in the car, Lex was already half-twisted in his seat, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed with barely-contained glee. The phone had stopped recording, but the tension itself was a physical, needy thing.
Morgan flipped down the sun visor and opened the vanity mirror. His reflection stared back—plain, lips too chapped. He wiped at the faint fleck of red near his collarbone.
Lex was vibrating.
“Really?” he asked. “That was for me?”
Morgan didn’t look at him.
Lex’s voice dipped into a whine, soft and sharp around the edges. “You mouthed it.Yousaid—”
“I know what I said.”
Lex reached out to touch his wrist and Morgan moved enough to keep it out of reach.
Groaning, Lex flicked the engine on. The hum of it filled the silence, broken only by the hiss of the window sliding down. Night air rushed in, brushing against his face, carrying with it the lingering scent of stone and something still bleeding.
“You’re not gonna tell me what happens now?” Lex asked.
“You didn’t win.”
“What—”
Morgan finally shut the visor.
“You challenged me. You lost. I’ll collect when we’re home. Not before.”
“Will I like it..?”
Teasing his little brother was much too easy.
Morgan turned to him, just enough to meet his eyes.
“Don’t push. Be my good boy.”
