Page 110 of The Mourning Throne
“Say thank you.”
Ollie hesitated. Then—barely—he whispered, “Thank you.”
Lex’s fingers curled against his leg.
He hated how easily Morgan got obedience. How it looked like nothing.
How it made Lexfeellike nothing.
Morgan turned to pack the kit, and Lex finally exhaled. He reached for the phone in his pocket—reflex more than desire—but didn’t even bother turning on the screen.
Then Ollie spat.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. But it landed right on Morgan’s perfect, polished shoes.
Lex’s spine jolted, tried to crawl out of his body.
The silence that followed felt like lightning right before the crack of thunder.
He expected Morgan to fuckingslap Ollie. Or tell Lex to,keep your cat in line.Something.
But Morgandidn’t.
He walked out, came back with the first-aid kit from the second bedroom, and opened it without a word.
Lex knew what was in the kit. Bandages. Tape. Gauze. Longer, thinner needles for stitches. Black thread. Antiseptic.
That wasit.
Morgan sorted through the items, moving all of them aside until only the needle and the thread remained.
Lex’s stomach did some weirdswish,and he had to keep swallowing or else he’d puke up all of last night’s dinner.
“Morgan…” he said carefully.
But Morgan didn’t even glance his way.
“You don’t want to behave,” Morgan said, more to Ollie than anyone else. “That’s fine. That’s your choice, after all.”
He crouched.
The needle caught the light as Morgan pulled the black thread through the eye—thick enough to tug, soft enough to swell against skin.
Morgan touched Ollie’s mouth like he was brushing crumbs away.
And Lex stopped breathing. His ribs protested, tightening, but he—he couldn’t.
He didn’t move when Morgan pressed the tip of the needle to Ollie’s bottom lip. Didn’t blink when it pierced through the skin, smooth and clean.
Ollie cried out—but it was muffled, barely noise.
Morgan didn’t pause or sigh. Didn’t tell him to stop making noise.
Just moved to the top lip. Pierced it, too. Not all the way. Enough to seal the two lips together. Enough to keep the sound inside.
Lex couldn’t look away.
Something about it was… wrong.
