Page 111 of The Mourning Throne
Not the act itself—he’d watched worse. Filmed shitso muchworse. But the way Morgan did it—
He wasn’tpunishingOllie.
He was removing thepossibilityof being defied.
Lex inhaled too much air, all at once.
If Morgan could do that to Ollie—
What would he do toLex?
What would happen ifMorgandidn’t find him useful?
If he stoppedentertainingMorgan?
Because that—that’s what Morgan had said. Back at the house. All those months ago.
You’ll always find a way to keep my attention.
Would he, though?
God, if he could havetwo secondsinside Morgan’s head to figure outwhat he was thinking… Lex would give the whole world.
Two seconds wasn’t asking for a lot. Just a fucking miracle.
Morgan knotted the silk. Trimmed the edge.
“Now you’ll think before you act,” he murmured, putting the first aid kit back together. Like nothing happened.
Ollie sobbed—soft, wet, unvoiced.
Lex felt that sound in his teeth.
He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until he dropped the phone onto his bare foot.
Morgan turned, finally, and his eyes landed on Lex.
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t speak.
Just looked.
And Lex—Lexcouldn’t read it.
For the first time in years, the expression didn’t register. It wasn’t amusement. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t teasing or threat or the coiled violence that usually lived behind Morgan’s eyes.
It was blank. Like looking at someone he didn’t recognize—someone who didn’t recognizehim.
Bile rose in his throat. He would’ve taken rage. Would’vebeggedfor rage. Something to hold onto. Something to prove that Morgan still feltsomethingfor him.
But this?
Please hate me. Please hate me or punish me or tell me I’m being a little shit, but don’t—
Don’t go cold.
Don’t check out.
