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The museum was having one of its dance parties, but Ahkmenrah wasn’t feeling it. For the past week he’d been overcome with guilt. The boy king couldn’t bring himself to be anywhere near Larry, lest his plan be found out. But how could it? No one would expect this. It was something the Egyptian could see his older brother Kahmunrah doing more than himself.
So when the night guard came to see why Ahkmenrah wasn’t dancing like usual, Ahk lead him to a secluded corridor so they could speak privately. The Egyptian leaned against a wall and closed his eyes while Larry spoke.
“What’s the matter, Ahk? You haven’t been yourself recently.”
The pharaoh could feel Larry’s eyes searching his face, but he refused to meet his gaze.
“I’ve--I’ve been thinking about what--what would happen if someone I loved died.”
He opened his eyes and looked up when he felt the older man’s hand on his shoulder. Larry’s eyes were that gorgeous blue that Ahk loved so much. And would miss if . . . if he ever left the museum. Without a word, Larry pulled him away from the wall and wrapped him in a hug.
Ahk’s breathing came rapidly as his hand went to his waist. His fingers wrapped around the gold hilt of his dagger.
“Larry,” Ahk breathed, “please forgive me.”
He then plunged the dagger into Larry’s back.
Larry gasped and fell against the pharaoh. Ahk staggered under the weight of the other man. He pulled the knife from his back and laid him gently on the floor.
“Larry, I’m--I’m--” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t say he was sorry.
The dying man’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Why?”
Ahk took his hand. Tears were streaming down his face.
“Because--because I love you.”
Ahkmenrah didn’t see Larry take his last breath, but he could feel it in his soul.
The guardian of Brooklyn was dead.