Page 131 of The Mourning Throne
That sound—that sound—Morgan would remember. Forever.
Lex. On the floor.
Lex. Coughing. Too strained.
Gasping for air.
Lex. Bleeding.
Something inside Morgan stopped functioning, and he couldn’t tell if it was his heart or his brain.
Across from him, Noah’s face warped in horror. He spun around, tripping over his feet as he kneeled beside Lex.
“Shit. Lex—Lex, I didn’t mean to—fuck, I’m so sorry—I didn’tseeyou—are you okay?”
Noah must not have been paying attention.
Must not have seen Lex shift.
Didn’t see the tremor in Lex’s hand as it closed around the knife Morgan had dropped.
Didn’t see the glint of steel, dull with blood.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you—Lex, I wouldnever—on my life,I wouldn’tdream—”
The blade went in.
Clean. Deep. Right side. Morgan saw it hit beneath the ribs.
Lex didn’t drop the knife. He gripped it like it was part of him—something he’d never put down again—something thatbelongedthere.
His hand shook.
Lex’s voice came soft. So soft.
“You’re sick, Noah.”
It wasn’t cruel or angry.
It was tired. Cracked. Meant to put something down and never pick it up again.
Noah froze.
“I used to think you were just annoying,” Lex went on, breathless, “but you’re not. You’re… you’refucked up. Something’s not normal in your head.”
“You’re myfamily. We were—”
“No.Weare not family.”
Lex stood. Wavering.
His knees wobbled, but his spine stayed straight. Bruises blossomed on his arms, dark under the skin. There was a cut near his elbow. A split lip.
Still, he moved. One step. Then another.
And he stopped in front of Morgan.
Not hiding. Not cowering.
