Page 79 of The Mourning Throne
Morgan had made sure they were the only ones with a key.
Lex lugged the box in himself, humming the same tune he’d been singing for days.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t ask for help.
Just unfolded the crate section by section, the metal clinking together like bones snapping into place.
It wasn’t quick or clumsy.
A ritual with its own pace.
Morgan stood by the bar, watching. He hadn’t asked how Lex planned to introduce it. He assumed Lex would try something… on brand.
He should’ve known better.
Should have known Lex didn’thavea brand yet. Just inklings and ideas floating around his head.
Morgan poured himself a glass of bourbon and inhaled.
This was going to be a catastrophe for the ages.
Lex stepped back, admiring the finished structure. Then he unlocked the second bedroom.
A few minutes later, he guided Ollie out by the shoulders, torn sheets sticking to the bottom of his shoes.
Ollie’s eyes darted from Morgan, to Lex. Finally to the cage.
“Um—what… what’s that?” Ollie asked, voice too thin. He crossed his bandaged arms over his chest, shoulders tight.
Lex didn’t answer.
He walked to the closet, fetched a towel, folded it in half, and laid it neatly across the floor of the cage like a cushion.
Ollie froze.
Lex straightened, glanced over his shoulder. “Come here.”
Ollie didn’t budge. “I don’t—I’m sorry. I’mreallysorry. I don’t understand.”
Lex’s head tilted and he sighed. Not angry, or cold. The sigh a parent might give their overactive child.
“Come here. Please?”
Morgan could see the moment hesitation shifted into dread. Ollie’s jaw locked. His hands curled into fists against his sides. But still, no movement.
“Lex,” Morgan murmured, low.
Lex didn’t even glance his way. He walked, slow and patient, to Ollie’s side and reached out—not with force. With two fingers under Ollie’s chin, tilting his head up.
“You said you’d face the scary stuff head-on, remember?” Lex asked.
Ollie’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I—I am! I am, I am! I’m trying—”
“This will only be scary if youlet it.” Lex leaned in, so close Morgan could barely see the space between them. “Follow the rules. That’s all. Not hard, right?”
The silence stretched. Then broke—crackling under the pressure of tension unspoken too long.
