Page 7

T he elevator doors hissed open. Lex barely spared a glance at the mirrored walls and heavy carpet beneath. All he cared about was what was going to happen to poor, darling Ollie.

Ollie shuffled inside first, flip-flops muffled against the carpet, like he was trying not to be heard. He kept glancing around frantically, reflection catching and blurring across the walls—pale face, wide eyes shining under the sterile lights. A deer caught in headlights. Except dumber.

Morgan stepped in last, thumb brushing the elevator’s security panel. A green flash, a soft click. The doors closed.

He caught Lex’s eyes. Grinned.

Private elevator. No stops. Straight to the penthouse.

Ollie was breathing too fast. Lex could hear it over the soft hum of the motor—thin, panicked gasps he was trying, and failing, to hide.

“You alright?” Lex asked, so damn sweet his skin crawled.

Ollie nodded.

The numbers ticked up on the digital panel. Twenty-third floor. Twenty-fourth.

When it stopped, Ollie bolted .

It wasn’t elegant. Hell, it wasn’t even smart. No fight, no claws. Just a desperate, clumsy sprint for the narrow gap as the elevator doors slid apart, his fingertips barely grazing the seam where they met.

Morgan was faster.

His hand shot out, catching the back of Ollie’s shirt. A sharp yank snapped Ollie off his feet, the sound of tearing fabric filling the elevator. Some sound escaped Ollie’s throat—part gasp, part whimper—before Morgan spun him and slammed him hard into the mirrored steel wall.

The whole panel shuddered.

“Try that again,” Morgan murmured, “and I will remove each of your fingers and force them down your throat. Slice open your stomach to watch them digest. Don’t test me.”

Ollie’s whole body froze. Just—froze. Lex felt the terror, even from a distance. It radiated off Ollie in brittle, electric waves, so thick he could drink it.

Morgan left first, disappearing down the hall without a backward glance. Lex could’ve sworn there was something almost gleeful in the way his heels clicked against the polished floor.

It took everything in Lex not to laugh.

Instead, he clamped a hand around the back of Ollie’s shirt, herding him into the suite.

In the stillness, Lex caught it—the soft, shredded sound of Ollie trying not to cry. Little shudders. The damp sound of it catching in his throat. Like if he stayed quiet enough, still enough, it might all rewind.

“Put him in the tub, will you?” Morgan’s voice floated from another room, casual as shit. “The cleanup will be so much quicker.”

The bathroom reeked of lemon-disinfectant. Sharp. Bitter.

On the plane, it was fine.

But here?

Here, Lex was beginning to hate it.

“ Please ,” Ollie whispered. “Please. I don’t know what’s going on. I—I thought you two wanted a threesome and I wasn’t comf—”

“You don’t want him to gag you, right?” Lex cut in, adjusting his grip on the back of Ollie’s shirt. “You could end up choking on your spit—I’ve seen that. Doesn’t look all that pleasant.”

Ollie’s jaw locked up and all the sudden, he couldn’t meet Lex’s gaze.

Still fucking frustrating. Mention Morgan once and they all shut down like someone flipped a switch.

Lex couldn’t exactly blame them, though.

Morgan could be a nightmare when he got into one of his moods.

Unless you knew how to handle those moods.

“In the tub,” Lex said.

Ollie obeyed.

Of course, that’s when the tears started. They welled up in those giant, glassy eyes, spilling over in messy tracks down his flushed cheeks. His breathing came faster, rasping high and thin, hands pressed over his mouth like he could physically smother the noise of his own hyperventilation.

“Scream all you want,” Morgan chirped as he came into the bathroom. He pulled off his jacket, rolled up the long sleeves underneath. “This room is soundproof.”

Soundproof?

Lex’s nose scrunched.

Why the fuck do we need a soundproof room?

Morgan glanced over, pausing. His expression landed somewhere between mild amusement and that quiet, razor-thin warning he wore like a second skin when they were about to kill someone.

“You’re loud when we fuck,” Morgan said, deadpan. “I wanted to make sure there were no complaints.”

Lex’s brain stuttered.

Heat surged up his neck, crawling into his scalp and setting his ears on fire

Saying it out loud. With a guest present.

What the actual hell.

That was easily one of Morgan’s most asshole moves to date—and Lex had a library of contenders. A whole fucking archive . Highlighted footnotes included.

But did he complain? No. He knew better than that.

Instead he watched Morgan open the travel case—neatly organized tools, each one fitted into foam like surgical equipment. The knife came out.

Nothing dramatic. No gleam of chrome or serrated edge. Just a simple blade, worn handle, curved for precision.

Probably something left over from Morgan’s previous career .

Lex’s stomach turned—not from fear, or nerves.

Just frustration. After all that buildup, gutting Ollie now would be such a goddamn waste.

They’d gone through all that trouble . Lex had made such an effort, and now he had to… what? Stand here and record?

That wasn’t an issue. It was something he really loved. Truly.

But that high from earlier had settled and left him wanting so much more.

Lex couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward.

“Wait.”

Morgan didn’t pause.

Lex grabbed his elbow.

This time, Morgan stilled for a second. Just a second. Then he turned—sharp, sudden. Too damn quick for the little space.

His eyes narrowed, dark lashes cutting across that blank face. Lex jerked back before his brain caught up, knocking against the bathroom door. The hollow click of the latch catching behind him sent a shiver up his spine.

“Wait,” Lex said again, quieter now.

Morgan took one step forward.

Just one.

The knife was still in his hand. It didn’t move. It didn’t have to. His gaze did all the work—cold and fixed and unreadable. The one that meant the human part of Morgan was somewhere else right now.

“I mean it,” Lex added quickly, fingers still wrapped tight around Morgan’s arm. “Let’s not kill him yet.”

“We don’t play with our food, Lex .”

Please never refer to people as food, Morgan .

Gross.

“But what if we do?” Lex slid his fingers up to Morgan’s chest, tracing slow circles against the buttons. Coaxing Morgan down wasn’t his favorite thing. “Just this once.”

“You had your fun already.” Morgan’s voice was soft, but the pressure behind it wasn’t.

“I didn’t say I was done.”

Morgan’s gaze dragged over him—top to bottom. Slow. Not admiring. Not curious.

Calculating.

The same way he got when trying to weigh shit.

Like deciding if it’d be easier to stab Lex and go back to what he really wanted to do.

Not good.

Lex licked his lips. His mouth was too dry. His pulse hammered in his throat, pounding hard enough to make him feel dizzy. Skipping from one uneven beat to the next, never finding its rhythm.

“Did I ruin your plans?”

The tic of Morgan’s jaw said yes. Said go fuck yourself.

“Give me one reason,” Morgan murmured. “And speak fast, little brother.”

Lex could’ve said a dozen things. He could almost see the words stacking in his head, bright and frantic— You never let me break anything. I want to do it. It’s not fair. None of them would’ve worked. Jesus, they sounded whiny as hell, even to him. And Morgan wasn’t a fan of second chances.

“Because it’s what I want. ”

He stepped closer and Morgan’s hand came down on his hip. Hard. It bypassed jeans and skin and hit straight nerve. Lex clenched his teeth, fighting through the pain.

Not an answer. Got it.

Lex didn’t move this time. He had to stand his ground or nothing was going to happen. He’d learned that the hard way.

“We’re here for a week, Morgan.”

“And?”

“Seven days is three bodies—” Lex lifted a hand. “—or! Or, or, or! Hear me out: one .”

Morgan’s expression didn’t waver. Flat, unimpressed. “That’s only if I continue indulging you.”

“You haven’t stopped yet.”

Lex grinned—too fast, too bright—and glanced over Morgan’s shoulder toward the tub. Ollie hadn’t moved. Still curled up there like an afterthought, crying so hard he might have stopped breathing.

At least he hadn’t run again.

That would’ve made this whole damn conversation null and void.

Silence stretched between them.

Lex could see the gears turning in Morgan’s head, clinking against each other. Fighting something.

Then Morgan shoved him back, the door rattling against Lex’s spine and sending his teeth clacking together.

Exhaling, Morgan scrubbed a hand down his face.

“You are pushing me .”

“Is that a yes?” Lex asked.

Morgan didn’t answer .

He didn’t have to.

Because he didn’t move toward the tub again.

Instead, the knife went back into the case. He turned, yanked open the closet, and pulled out a towel. Thick and plush. He folded it with mechanical care, every edge perfect, and laid it over the toilet lid.

Then, he turned to Ollie.

“Get up.”

Ollie flinched, but damn if he didn’t do what Morgan asked. His shoulders were trembling, legs shaking. Eyes red and distant, like he wasn’t entirely with them anymore.

Lex was already fishing his phone out, fingers jittering around the edges of the screen. He unlocked the camera. Already smiling.

New pet. Acquired.

Three minutes and twenty seconds.

That’s how long it took for Morgan to tie Ollie up.

Not with rope, or zip-ties, or anything made to tie up a person.

Nope. Morgan just ripped a sheet.

Four long strips. Torn down the middle with clean, decisive hands. No hesitation. No drama. Like he’d done it a thousand different times. Hell, he maybe he had. Lex had no idea what Morgan had gotten up to way back in the day. He’d been much too young and na?ve.

But that kind of shit? Really impressive.

Morgan could probably kill someone with a pillowcase and a fork if he felt like it.