King of Masters by Brynn Ford

CHAPTER 32

Murphy

I’VE BEEN SITTING in this hospital waiting room for hours while Stella lies alone in surgery. I hate that she’s alone and that I’m powerless to help her. She fell unconscious in my arms back home, and I haven’t seen her gorgeous brown eyes since.

The doctors came out once to update me, told me that she was lucky—lucky—because a few millimeters difference might have cost her life. It’s almost as if Cordelia knew where to stab her, where to cut her to cause the most damage, as if she’d planned to do it all along. She’s always resented Stella for the way she came into her position, thinking her unworthy, jealous that Stella held rank above her. Yet it still took me by surprise.

“Murphy,” Declan says gently.

I slowly lift my head from my hands, exhausted, stressed, and overwhelmed.

When I see Fiona peek out from behind him as they enter, it snaps me to attention and I jump to my feet. “Why did you bring her here?”

He doesn’t need to answer my question because I can see on Fiona’s face why she’s here. Her pale cheeks are painted with the tracks of tears, her eyes red and swollen from crying. I let out a sigh and move toward them, thankful that we’re the only people in this waiting room.

“Come here,” I tell her, opening my arms, and she comes to me for comfort.

“Is she going to be okay, sir?” she asks me.

“I don’t know.” I hate that this has to be my answer. The not knowing makes my breath catch and my eyes burn with the welling of fresh tears.

“Are you okay, sir?”

“Don’t call me that here.”

I let her go and move back to my chair to sit. Fiona and Declan follow suit, sitting in the chairs on either side of me.

Declan sets a duffel bag on the floor in front of him. “I brought Stella’s glasses and some clothes for her,” he says. “There’s clothes for you in there, too. I expect you’re not planning to leave anytime soon.”

I nod a little as I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees, and dropping my face into my palms. “Thank you.”

I’d ridden with Stella alone on the airlift that brought us here. My mother and father had met me here and sat with me a few hours ago, but I sent them home. There was nothing they could do for me. My father hasn’t been well recently and truthfully, they were only adding to my stress. But Declan’s presence is comforting, even Fiona’s concern provides some warmth in this cold space.

I feel Fiona’s soft touch on my shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

She sniffles, still trying to get her own emotions under control, but I’ve so effectively manipulated her into servitude that she puts my needs first.

I turn my head to glance over at her. “Why are you so upset, Fiona? Why are you here?”

“I’m worried about Stella. And I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m meant to take care of you, of the family, sir.”

“I told you not to call me that here.”

“I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay.”

I drop my head, breathing slowly, trying to hold back the fucking tears that keep threatening to spill. But Fiona’s hand on my back, rubbing in a slow, comforting circle makes it hard to control my emotions.

What kind of life is this for her? A life of service to our family, only to be killed to make space for the next talent slave one day? The slave that my future son will bring home?

“Fuck.” I shove to my feet and pace across the room.

My life has been disrupted by chaos since the day I met Stella—chaos that’s ripped through my world like a tornado. She’s torn through my beliefs, my understanding of our traditions; she’s broken my hardened exterior and left my remaining humanity exposed and vulnerable.

She’s changed me.

She’s changed everything.

I’m not angry, or confused, or disappointed by it. I’m grateful for it. And I’m terrified I’m going to lose her. I’m terrified I won’t deserve her when she wakes up from this.

I spin back to face them. “I have to let you go, Fiona.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. I slip out one of my credit cards that’s under a false name, one with a higher limit, and hold it out to her. “Take this. Get a flight, get a hotel, leave. I won’t keep you anymore.”

She rises slowly and steps toward me, but she doesn’t take the credit card from my hand. “No, sir.”

I grab her hand and place the card on her palm, forcing her to take it. “Don’t tell me no. Get the fuck out of here. I’ll track the card and find you and wire you some money in a few days. Then you can take it and run, and I won’t be able to track you anymore. I’ll pay you sufficiently for your silence about my family.”

She tries to give the card back to me. “Please don’t make me, sir.”

“Just go.”

“I’m not going. Stop asking me. Please, sir.”

“Why won’t you leave?”

“I have nowhere to go.”

“You can go home.”

“My home is with the family.”

“Fiona, stop it,” I hiss. I grab her by the wrist and drag her toward the door.

She plants her feet and manages to stop me. “I’m not going!”

I whirl around to face her. “Why?”

“Because my life with your family is better than it was with mine!”

I’m silent for a moment as I watch her, as I register the truth in her eyes. She holds up her hand with the credit card, waving it sharply for me to take, which I refuse. She turns on her heel, marches back to Declan, and hands him the card instead. Then, she sits.

“Stella made me a promise,” she says quietly.

I don’t respond.

“She promised that she’d make sure I was okay. And I’m going to do the same for her.”

“I didn’t know that you’ve spoken with each other.”

“We haven’t…not much. You’ve done a good job of keeping me away from her. But you know your wife, sir.” She chuckles. “She does what she wants.”

I rub my palm over my face. “Yes, she does.”

“I want to be here for her.”

I sigh, moving back to my seat.

“I want to be here for you, too,” she continues. “I don’t feel the need to run from people who make sure I’m taken care of. My family never did that. They only pushed me from one singing audition to the next. They exhausted me.”

I was always aware of her family and how she was treated. They misused the money I gifted them to fund her talent as a meal ticket. Though her talent had developed, they’d pushed her to exhaustion—they’d abused her, too. I knew that for years, but I never cared, never thought of it, never did a damn thing about it. I was pleased by it when I selected her to be my talent slave because abused women are easier to break.

I’m as monstrous as the men we sell to, and I never could’ve seen that if it hadn’t been for Stella drawing the curtains on my dormant empathy.

I drop my face into my palms and Fiona tries to comfort me. Her compassion is unsettling, but it’s also humbling.

I lift my head and look at her squarely. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, Fiona. Stay or leave.”

She nods, giving me a small smile. “I know, sir.”

“Mr. O’Shea?”

My head snaps toward the door to see a woman in scrubs standing there. “Please come with me,” she says without expression.

I rise and walk, the rest of the world quickly fading into a blur as I follow the woman alone down the sterile hallway.