Page 119 of The Mourning Throne
Disposing of Ollie could wait until Lex wasstable.
“I don’t—” Lex started, broken and soft. Those huge eyes stayed fix on the envelope, blood seeping into his pants. “I hate this…”
Morgan didn’t ask what he hated in this moment.
It didn’t matter.
What mattered was this. Lex, unraveling. Not all at once. Thread by thread.
Morgan sat rigid beside him, jaw tight, watching it happen. A subtle shift beneath his breastbone made the inside of his chest feel even more wrong. Unnatural. He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.
“Can you do something for me?” Morgan asked. He moved his hand to Lex’s face, stroking his jaw gently.
Lex nodded—too quick, too eager.
Morgan wanted the other version of him. The one who’d roll his eyes and pout, pushing Morgan just to see how far he would go. The one who threw tantrums, full of heat and noise. That was the real Lex.HisLex.
“Go back upstairs—”
“I don’t want to,” Lex cut in, whispered and rushed.
The tears shimmering in his eyes almost made Morgan retract the entire statement, almost made him shift gears.
“Go back upstairs,” Morgan repeated, firmer the second time. “Put the letter down. Change your pants. Wash your hands. Do you remember the new ones? The gray tweed?”
Morgan couldn’t risk him going out covered in blood. It would cause stares. He should’ve fixed it earlier, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly.
Lex needed, and Morgan responded.
“Put those on,” he continued. “Forget the underwear.”
He waited for the familiar kick-back—defiance, resistance, anything. Morgan had wagered on it, dangled the three words like bait. Something sharp enough to pierce the daze Lex was drowning in.
It didn’t come.
“I don’t…” Lex’s voice cracked. Tears, inevitable and silent, finally slid free. “I don’t know how to let go.”
“Of the letter?”
There wasn’t even a nod this time.
Throwing open the driver’s side door, Morgan ripped the card from Lex’s hands. He dumped it into the trash can nearby. Buried it beneath a cluster of fast food wrappers and a coffee cup, making sure it vanished from view.
Out of sight, out of mind. Or that was the theory, anyway.
“Out of the car, Lex,” Morgan said, more order than suggestion. “Into the elevator. I’ll be here when you get back. If you’re gone longer than ten minutes, you won’t like what happens.”
It should have landed harder. Should have had bite, more weight.
But the edge dulled at the end.
He couldn’t get himself to mean it. Not with Lex looking like that.
Lex didn’t say anything. He simply opened the door, slow and shaky, like every movement required conscious effort.
Morgan watched him cross the lot. The automatic doors swallowed him in a blink of glass and chrome.
And then Morgan was alone.
