LOUIS SORREL.

⠀ “I'll come over,” he said at last, the decision coming more easily than anything else he could think to say. He couldn't do much from where he was, but he could at least be there. His thoughts turning back to the voice on the other end of the line, so carefully composed it ⠀

⠀ They hadn't spoken since. Not a word, not even the bare minimum required to keep things civil, and Louis had no reason to believe that had changed. Yet, before he could talk himself out of it, he answered. ⠀

"Fuck." The word barely left his mouth before Louis hurled the phone across the room. It struck the wall with a sharp crack and dropped somewhere out of sight. He stayed where he was, breathing hard, with his hand still half-raised from the throw.

him on the defensive before he had even had the chance to decide what he wanted to say. He hated the implication that he had somehow dragged Morwen into this deliberately. He hated even more that part of him knew why Morwen would think that. “I can't stop her from reaching out

idea why Morwen had to be involved. “What do you expect me to do with that?” There was an unmistakable edge to his voice. “She hasn't spoken to me in years, Morwen. I don't know what she wants from me.” He leaned back—looking at nothing in particular.

The buzz of the intercom at 2:17 AM was a sound Louis knew like his own heartbeat. He stumbled to the panel, heart already thudding a heavy, familiar rhythm against his ribs. He didn't need to look at the small, grainy screen. He knew. It was always @Reoigning.