Page 6

“I—what?” he asked, blinking fast.

Lex winced. “Did that come off too strong? I’m out of practice.”

That got a laugh. Nervous. Quiet. More exhale than sound.

Lex offered a hand across the bar, palm up in peace.

“I’m Lex. This is Morgan.” He tipped his chin toward where Morgan had leaned one hip against the counter, arms crossed. Too damn silent and intense . A cat watching a mouse.

The hesitation was palpable but— finally— the guy reached over, his hand light in Lex’s.

“Ollie,” he said, voice soft. No accent. “Sorry, I just—you’re not who I thought would be here.”

Lex gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Ollie shrugged, curling back into himself. “You seem friendly.”

“I’ll take friendly,” Lex snorted. “Do you come here often? It’s my first time.”

“Mm.” Ollie nodded. He clutched his drink again as if it anchored him. “I like it here. It’s close to where I study.”

A beat passed. Then, quieter, “UCL.”

“UCL?” Lex asked.

“University College London.”

“What’re you studying?”

“Humanities.”

“Good for you. I dropped out second semester.”

“I love school,” Ollie mumbled. “I want to go for my Masters. ”

Lex nodded, slow enough that it didn’t spook. “I like the real world more than school. Less tests and bullshit. More action. We’re here on business, actually.”

“I’m not ready for the real world yet. I should be, but…”

It was almost comfortable. Almost normal. Lex was getting somewhere . He could see the stress starting to bleed out of Ollie.

“Do you need a cigarette?”

Morgan’s voice slid in from nowhere—flat and quiet and unmistakable.

Lex had almost forgotten he was still there.

Ollie looked up sharply, eyes flicking to Morgan like he’d forgotten him too. His shoulders rose, shrinking in. He glanced left. Right. Like he expected someone to be watching.

Ollie leaned in toward Morgan, whispering like he’d been caught. “Am I that obvious?”

Morgan’s grin was all teeth. “A little.”

He reached into his jacket and drew out a pack, flicking the top open with a thumb and holding it out.

“I could go for a smoke if you’d like company.”

“I—I shouldn’t.” Ollie laughed, weak and shaky. “I told everyone I quit. I really shouldn’t.”

Lex laid his hand over Ollie’s, fingers brushing against his knuckles—and there was no flinching. No recoil. No why are you touching me squint of suspicion.

“We’re pretty good at keeping secrets,” Lex said, equally quiet. “It’s safe with us.”

Ollie hesitated. His gaze flicked between Lex and Morgan—lingering a second too long on the latter, like he was weighing some instinct he didn’t understand .

“Alright,” he said. “One won’t kill me.”

He pushed off the bar, cigarette in hand, and murmured something about seeing them outside.

But Morgan didn’t move.

Neither did Lex.

Not yet.

Morgan’s hand ghosted up the back of Lex’s neck, slow and deliberate, fingers sliding under the collar of his shirt. It made Lex shiver even when he didn’t mean to.

“You’re a natural,” Morgan said quietly.

Lex turned his head, grinning. “Was that another compliment, Morgan?”

“Not when it’s the truth.”

Leaning back against Morgan, Lex laughed. “Careful. If you keep praising me, I might remember I have more than two brain cells to rub together. What then?”

Morgan’s hand tightened, just enough to pull a sharp little breath from Lex.

“Then I’ll just have to remind you who taught you everything you know.”

Lex tilted his head back, lips parting slightly. Enough. A dare. “And who is that?”

Morgan didn’t bother answering.

He leaned in.

The kiss was heat and gravity. Not sweet. No fanfare. Just pressure and purpose.

His mouth firm, sure, the kind of kiss that claimed space—marked it .

Lex hummed into it, soft and pleased, tasting bourbon on Morgan’s lips, tasting control . The thick, quiet mine of it all.

He wanted this exact fucking moment to last forever.

Outside, the street was mostly empty. The noise from whatever restaurant above the club turned into a muffled echo.

Ollie stood near the wall, one foot cocked back against the brick, dragging on the cigarette like he’d never stopped in the first place. His fingers didn’t tremble. His shoulders had relaxed, the earlier tension softened out of him by smoke and air and maybe unexpected company.

“Where are you two staying?” he asked, voice lighter now. Looser.

“The—the Armature..?” Lex glanced at Morgan.

But Morgan didn’t need to speak. Ollie was already grinning, eyes bright.

“The Armitage, right? I love that place!” It was the most excitement Lex had heard from him, the most life . “We rented out an entire floor for prom… so much fun.”

“You grew up around here?”

Waving a hand, Ollie exhaled a cloud of smoke. “My parents come here for business, and I loved it so much that UCL was my only choice. I know I shouldn’t have limited myself, but being here just makes me happy. ”

His voice had that quality again—thin and breathy, teetering between confession and self-soothing. High with conviction, then guilty as sin. I loved it. I shouldn’t have. I had to. I know better.

Like he was constantly having two conversations—one out loud, one in his own head.

Everything about Ollie was one extreme or the other. No gray area.

It screamed sheltered .

Lex could practically fucking hear it.

“Isn’t that darling?” Morgan murmured, smooth as velvet.

“I’m sure your parents are proud. Big city, university…”

Ollie took another long drag, the cigarette flaring in the dark. Then he tilted his head back against the brick, eyes skyward.

“Maybe.”

Lex turned to face him, shoulder pressing against the wall. “I feel that,” he said. “I moved out when I was eighteen. Couldn’t deal with not knowing if I was fucking up every other day.”

Ollie’s gaze drifted to him. “Do you still talk to your mom and dad?”

“Barely. Haven’t talked to my dad since I was twelve. Mom sends me a gift card on my birthday, and I send flowers on Mother’s Day. I’m pretty much no contact at this point.”

“That sounds nice.” Ollie brought the cigarette to his lips again—stopped, like he thought better of it—before he let it drop to his side. “I wish I could do that.”

“So, do it. You’re an adult.”

The little smile on Ollie’s face didn’t reach his eyes. “I should.”

He wouldn’t .

Lex hadn’t known Ollie for more than twenty minutes, but he already knew—like knowing a glass would shatter before it ever hit the floor. Some people didn’t have the resistance. No tension. No heat.

No fight.

Not confident. Not shy.

What was left after that?

Broken.

Was this how Morgan picked out all his victims?

“Do you always smoke that fast?” Morgan asked, nodding toward Ollie’s near-finished cigarette.

“I guess. It calms me down.”

“We’ve got something better than a cigarette,” Lex said, voice light. “Something that’ll actually help.”

The streetlamp caught the moment Ollie’s face shifted. His mouth flattened, lashes flicked downward, and his eyes narrowed enough to register unease. “Like what?”

“Not like that ,” Lex added, hands up in surrender, laughing. “No drugs or hardcore shit. Just somewhere that isn’t so packed. It was hard to hear myself think in the club.”

Morgan stepped forward, slow. Calm. “You look like you’ve had a long night.”

The way Ollie’s fingers clenched around the filter gave more away than his silence. But he didn’t back up.

Didn’t run.

Didn’t scream .

Lex tilted his head, watching for any more signs of fear. “You came here alone, didn’t you? ”

Ollie nodded after a second. “I was supposed to meet a couple people but I think they blew me off. Blind date included.”

“Seriously? Damn,” Lex said. “No offense, but they totally missed out. You’re the most interesting person we’ve met all night.”

That got Ollie—a laugh, dry and quick, but real.

“Come with us,” Lex offered, gentler now. “You won’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We can get bad food, relax, smoke—tell me that doesn’t sound more fun than wasting your time here.”

Ollie looked between them. The noise of the club had vanished entirely—out here, it was just silent. Warm. With something starting to rot in the trash down the alley.

But there was a flicker in his expression, as if he wanted to say yes. Needed to.

“…Just for a little while,” Ollie said. “Sorry, I probably seem stupid—London can be…”

“Dangerous?” Lex asked quietly.

Ollie nodded.

Morgan gestured down the alley. “Our car’s around the corner.”

“Oh—I, um—should I grab my jacket from the check or—?”

“You won’t need it,” Lex said, already moving off the wall.

Ollie really should’ve screamed, not followed them.

It shouldn’t be this easy.

The car was too quiet.

Not a comfortable, companionable kind of quiet—the kind Lex liked when it was Morgan driving, windows rolled down too far on the highway, and him curled lazily in the passenger seat, rewatching Morgan’s latest bloody horror show he’d recorded only a few minutes before.

This was different.

Lex could feel this kind of quiet. It dug under his nails, threatened to choke him.

Ollie sat rigid in the back seat, one hand still twitching at the end of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. His knee bounced, just slightly.

The kind of anxious movement that almost made Lex feel bad for him.

Almost.

But that energy? The panicked kind, the overthinking kind—it made people start asking themselves questions. Made them wonder why they said yes. Why they got in the car. Why the street had been so empty.

Thinking was a problem.

Lex twisted in his seat and glanced over his shoulder at Ollie. “You doing good back there?”

Ollie looked up too fast. His eyes too wide .

“Um—yeah. I mean… yeah.” He smiled, but it cracked at the edges. “Just wasn’t expecting to get in a car with strangers tonight.”

“Are we really strangers? Technically, sure. But you can always ask me anything you want. I’m an open book.”

Ollie laughed under his breath. Performative and polite. “Thanks…”

Lex watched his hands. Still twitching.

“Where are we going?” Ollie asked.

“The Armitage,” Morgan said, flatly, from the driver’s seat.

The first words he’d spoken since they got in the car. But the way he said it didn’t leave room for questions.

The silence that followed was colder.

Siren’s sped past, growing fainter as the ambulance turned the corner.

“I don’t think I should…” Ollie’s voice dropped, almost eaten by the car’s rumble. “I don’t want to intrude. You can, um, let me out here.”

“That’s silly. You’re not intruding.” Lex kept his tone friendly. “We wouldn’t have invited you if that’s the case.”

Ollie nodded slowly, but Lex caught it—the telltale shift. The way he leaned toward the door. How his hand crept to the handle, moving like he thought he could be subtle about it.

The sharp, metallic click of the lock not budging punched too loud.

Ollie’s hand jerked back.

He tried again.

Click.

Still nothing .

A different kind of panic skittered across his face now—sharper, more desperate.

“Um,” Ollie whispered. “I…”

Lex’s smile never left his face. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I… I think I should go.”

“You want to get out? Right now? In the middle of traffic?”

“Yes.” Ollie nodded. Too fast. Frantic. “I don’t—I’m sorry, I don’t feel right about this.”

Lex leaned in a little, voice dropping. “C’mon, Ollie. Be sensible.”

Ollie flinched at his name.

“I really think I need to leave.”

Lex reached out and brushed his fingers over the back of Ollie’s hand.

“If we let you out,” he started sweetly, “you could get hit. Do you want that?”

Morgan didn’t say a word. Didn’t glance back. His hands remained steady on the wheel, the faint, rhythmic tap of the turn signal filling the void for a few heartbeats before it clicked off.

And Lex understood that itch Morgan talked about sometimes, the one he couldn’t kick.

Because this was it.

The moment the animal realized the trap had closed.

He’d never been this close to it before. Never got to watch as it happened. It was always after.

Not once did he catch the flutter of someone’s pulse on the recordings, but he could see it now. Ollie’s looked like a bird trying to beat its wings through a window.

“No,” Ollie finally whispered .

He turned his face toward the window, trying to blink too fast, too often. He kept stealing glances at the street signs. Lex could see him mentally tracking turns, counting intersections.

Ollie wouldn’t remember them later.

Not unless he had a photographic fucking memory.

That’s when the high started to hit.

Not the giddy kind. Not the thrill of flirtation or attention. This one was darker. Greater. Something cold and nameless, slithering under the surface.

Jesus, this was so damn better than anything he’d ever recorded.

It wasn’t Morgan’s brand of violence—the slick, messy sound of blood splattering against leaves, the wet snap of a body folding wrong, the ragged screams tearing themselves raw in the night.

Morgan could keep the gore.

The theatrics.

The big, loud moments.

Lex had fallen in love with this.

The way realization crept in like fog through a cracked window. Soft until it wasn’t.

The way it turned in Ollie’s eyes. That heavy, sick tilt as he understood, truly understood, that something had shifted.

That Ollie wasn’t the one calling the shots anymore.

Lex’s pulse didn’t race. His hands didn’t shake. Instead, everything stilled. Inside and out.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t watching from behind a phone. Wasn’t pretending to be invisible while Morgan did all the lifting.

For the first time, Lex was really in control.

And god, it felt clean .