King of Masters by Brynn Ford
CHAPTER 33
Stella
I AWAKEN FROM a deep, dreamless sleep to an insistent steady beat. I feel peaceful and sleepy as I’m unwillingly dragged from a perfect slumber. I blink a few times, but it takes me a few moments to become aware of my surroundings.
White, cold, and sterile.
I look down and see the plain blankets covering me, the railing on either side of the narrow bed where I lay propped up on pillows. My nostrils are irritated, and I lift my hand to rub my nose only to find rubber tubes there, pumping me with oxygen.
“There she is,” a kind, female voice says, an unfamiliar hand touching my shoulder. “You’re all right. We can take that off in a bit if you’re feeling okay.”
“Where…” My voice is scratchy. I swallow a dry lump in my throat and try again. “Where am I?”
There’s a warm, familiar touch wrapping around my hand. I feel comforted by it, and I start drifting off to sleep again. My brain won’t let me stay under though, dragging me away from the calming darkness into the harsh light of reality.
The familiar touch squeezes my hand and I know it’s him right away. His rings kiss my flesh, and my fingers immediately curl to grip his hand.
“You’re in hospital,” he says. I open my eyes again and slowly roll my head to the side to see him leaning over me. “You were in surgery, but everything’s fine, sweetheart.”
I was stabbed.
Cordelia stabbed me.
The memory alerts me to the pain in my stomach, and I feel my face contort as the complete awareness ripples through me.
“It hurts.”
“I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake and see if we can get your pain meds started. I’ll be right back with juice for you.” The kind woman slips out of the small space.
“I’m okay?” I ask Murphy.
“Yes. You will be. You’ll need some recovery time, but I’ll make sure you have everything you need at home to rest as much as you need to.”
I was stabbed.
The fear I felt when I was bleeding on the floor in Murphy’s lap comes rushing back to me, and I suck in a sharp, gasping breath, my heartbeat quickening.
I was stabbed and I could’ve died.
I could’ve died and Murphy would be alone.
His rough hands grab hold of my cheeks as he bends over the railing, lowering his face to mine. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. You’re safe now. I’m here. I’m so sorry I let this happen to you.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I should’ve known…I should’ve seen it coming. It should’ve been me.”
“No. I wouldn’t be able to…to breathe if you were in this bed instead of me. I wouldn’t be able to…I couldn’t…Murphy, I love you. I love you and—”
He cuts me off with a kiss to my dry chapped lips, and the passion behind the chaste touch tells me how much he cares, how much he needs me, how much he wants me, even at my worst.
“I feared I might lose you,” he whispers against my lips. “I didn’t know what would happen to you. My soul would be lost without yours. I don’t think I could ever survive without you now that I know what it’s like to be complete.”
My fear drips from my eyes in the form of tears. Tears of connection, longing, and true love for this man.
He blinks and pulls his head back as his own tear slips down his cheek. He sniffs and wipes it away quickly with his knuckle.
Sleep tries to take hold of me again, but I want to stay awake. I want to keep talking so I’ll stay awake.
“Lost souls collide and shatter lives.” I don’t really know what words I’m saying because I’m so groggy, but I feel what I mean in them. I just hope he feels it, too.
“Right.” He chuckles a little at my incoherence. “You shattered my life,” he whispers, kissing my cheek and petting my hair, “and I shattered yours. I want to pick up what’s left of our two lost souls and make one together. You and me, king and queen. I’ll do whatever you ask of me to make myself worthy of the love you’ve given me, Stella. I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
I drift away again, the anesthesia reluctant to release its grip on me, but I blink my eyes open a few moments later. “Would you destroy the four families for me? Would you find a way to end it all?”
It’s quiet for a few beats and sleep threatens again.
But then he gathers my attention when he speaks. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s the only way for me to know you’ve changed for good.” I briefly wonder if I’m dreaming this whole exchange.
His voice is so crystal-clear that I know it’s real. “Then I’ll do it for you. We’ll do it together.”
I feel his sincerity cover me like a warm blanket and somehow, the promise alone gives me peace.
Peace with him.
Peace with myself.
Peace with the reality of our future and the knowledge that he and I are linked for life.
Greater than that, we’re linked for eternity.
Lost souls collide and shatter lives.
My foggy mind knows better than I do when I’m fully cognizant.
He and I were both lost souls. Our lives collided the night we met and shattered the realities we both knew. The journey has been painful, toxic, aching, and desperate, but the mending of our shattered souls is making something better, something brighter, something that will last long after we’re gone from this Earth.
He and I are going to become one, irrevocably and irreversibly one celestial soul.
I smile through my physical pain because the joy of my lost soul finally recognizing its mate is more powerful than any ache.
“We’ll do it together,” I repeat his words, “and I’ll be yours forever.”
With my palm in his, I carefully lower into the armchair normally reserved for Murphy. He stands beside me as we wait for the family to gather in the living room. Cordelia kneels before us, facing outward to receive her judgment, her hands tied behind her back and duct tape covering her lips.
I was only released from the hospital two days ago, and I can hardly walk without pain, though the doctors say that will get better in time. Cordelia had nicked a nerve in addition to all the other damage she caused with her dagger, but I’ll take the pain today to ensure she is punished for what she did to me.
As soon as the rest of the family is settled in the sunken space, Murphy takes a step forward, standing just behind Cordelia, and he begins to speak.
“We all know why I’ve asked you to gather today. Cordelia has committed a treasonous crime against our family and for that, punishment must be forceful and swift. Stella’s injuries were severe. She could be dead right now if the blade had slipped mere millimeters from where it sliced through her. Stella and I have discussed how this matter should be handled, and we’ve come to a common decision. Stella?”
He takes a step back to allow me full view of the family from where I sit. I start to lean forward, but a pinch of pain shocks me, shooting through muscle, and I’m forced to still myself. Murphy strokes his hand down the side of my head, granting me encouragement, letting his palm rub over my shoulder and rest between my shoulder blades.
I swallow a lump in my throat and take in a steeling breath. I know there was no other choice Murphy and I could have made regarding Cordelia’s fate—she tried to kill me, and almost succeeded—but I still feel unsettled by it.
Unsettled isn’t the right word.
I feel horrified by it.
But what she did to me is unforgivable. The changes that Murphy and I are trying to make together, the lives we’re trying to save, the secrets we’re trying to keep, it’s all at risk with Cordelia in our presence.
“I think it’s best that I just say it quickly. Cordelia has been sentenced to death for what she’s done to me.” The words feel cold slipping from between my lips, but they had to be said. The decision had to be made. I expected to hear murmurs of surprise from the family, but instead, I’m met with silence. “The sentence will be carried out immediately to rid our family of the threat that she has posed to us all.”
Our family.
It’s mine and Murphy’s family now.
I have to own that to take control of it, to be the wife that Murphy needs. He has to continue growing to destroy the four families for good, and he will…because he was always meant to rise and destroy them. I was always meant to help him discover his purpose, to challenge his beliefs, to strengthen him with love despite our differences.
We both know that truth now.
He was never really the monster I thought he was. He’s a product of his upbringing, of twisted traditions and ridiculous rituals.
Yet we still need to participate in one last appalling rite to ensure that our remaining family knows it’s place…so we can move forward and effect real change. Cordelia has to be made an example of to ensure we’re never questioned again, especially when factories start closing and money starts disappearing.
I feel sick to my stomach as Murphy removes his dagger from his calf holster and steps forward.
“Blood taken requires blood given,” he says clearly, and my heart beats in an overwhelming flurry. He circles around in front of Cordelia and looks down at her. She tilts her chin up to look at him, though she can’t speak because the duct tape covers her lips.
Murphy looks at me, pausing and asking silently for my permission one last time. I nod at him, grateful for the final ask, though we’ve talked this outcome to death.
It has to happen,I remind myself.
She stabbed me in cold-blood, with no motive other than her ridiculous idea that I had taken money from the family. In truth, I’d had nothing to do with Murphy’s decision to pay off the entire Oslo operation to allow Anya and Kostya a safe place to hide. Yes, I had asked him to save Anya’s life, but every decision he’d made from there, he’d made on his own—he’d grown in empathy on his own, and my love for him only grew stronger.
Though what he’s about to do is horrid, I know that it has to happen or we’ll never be safe. We’ll never be able to do the work we need to do in order to save lives.
Murphy circles Cordelia, coming around behind her again. He steps wide and plants his feet on either side of her legs. I’d asked him to end her quickly, to minimize her suffering, though she deserves to suffer as much as I did when she stabbed me so cruelly.
I see him wrap his fist around her hair and jerk her head back. “The matter is settled with Cordelia’s death. Let this set a precedent that anyone who crosses me or my wife will meet the same fate.”
I feel sick.
In one swift motion, he slashes the blade across her throat. The squelching sound of metal slicing through sinew and vein makes my stomach lurch and my shoulders shrug with tension. Her parents and sister cry, their sobs breaking through the silence as blood spurts from Cordelia.
I feel like shit.
This is too much for me.
He nudges her sideways and she topples to the floor, her body limp and lax within a minute. Blood continues to spurt from her in bursts that slow with her beating heart.
“Murphy.” His name tumbles from my lips and he steps back, taking heavy breaths while holding the bloody dagger in his hand. My eyes are drawn to it, and it triggers a reminder of the pain in my stomach, the pain triggering the fear I felt when I thought I was dying in his arms. My pulse quickens as I beg, “Put it down.”
I slip my hand up to my throat, squeezing briefly and dragging my fingers back down to my chest—a previously agreed upon signal between us that I’m overwhelmed and that I need him. I need him to get me away from here so he can help calm me. I’ve been unusually anxious since the attack.
He nods at me in understanding. He quickly bends to return the coated blade to his calf holster—he’s soaked in her blood, regardless, so it doesn’t matter that it drips down his leg.
“I want it known that Stella is the reason your hands remain clean today. I wanted everyone’s involvement in this, and I wanted her death to be slow and painful for what she did to my wife. But Stella didn’t want that for Cordelia; she didn’t want that for any of you. Her dignity and grace far exceed what any of you possess. She asked that you be spared participation in this death and for that, you owe her your gratitude.”
“Thank you, Stella,” Declan says graciously.
“Thank you, Stella,” Bridget follows.
A chorus of thank you’s—some reluctant—echo in the room and fill me with a sick sense of pride that twists in my gut. That pride only upsets me further.
Murphy wipes his bloody palms on his slacks, then moves in front of me, holding out his hands to help me to my feet.
“Cormac, I expect you to arrange for removal and clean-up,” Murphy says quickly as I stand.
He wraps one arm around my waist and walks beside me as he leads me toward the hallway. My anxiety and pain work together in a way that makes it all worse. I grab hold of his belt, gripping tightly as my breaths quicken and make me light-headed.
“Are you okay?”
“I just need to be away from them…alone with you. I need to lie down.”
“How’s the pain?”
“It’s fine.”
“Don’t lie. How bad is it?”
“Eight out of ten. But it will get better once I lay down.”
“Almost there.”
He takes me into a bedroom he’s set up for me on the first floor, just down the hall. Stairs are off limits for a while, and really, I’m not supposed to be walking much at all, but I refused to be in a wheelchair. He opens the door for me, and we’re greeted by Bailey—we’d shut her in to avoid the bloodshed. She’s proven to be a fantastic emotional support dog.
Murphy helps me lower onto the bed and I twist to put my feet up. I lay back slowly on the pillow, wincing at the pain on my way down. “I’m good. Go get cleaned up.”
He heads off to the connected bathroom, and I hear the faucet running for a minute before he returns. His hands are clean, though his clothes are still soaked in Cordelia’s blood. The sight of it makes my stomach roll.
He hands me a glass of water and holds out his palm—a white pill rests there and I pluck it from his hand. I pop the prescription pain medication into my mouth without putting up a fight like I normally do. This whole thing has just been too much for me. I swallow it down with a gulp of water from the glass, and he sets it on the bedside table.
I settle back against the pillow and wave my hand. “Go. Go take a shower. Please. The blood is too much.”
He disappears into the bathroom. Bailey jumps up on the bed and settles by my feet as I hear the shower turn on. I close my eyes and breathe slowly, working hard to force images of death from my mind.
It had to be done.
She had to die.
Murphy isn’t in the shower long. After just a few minutes, I hear the door click and I open my eyes, rolling my head to the side to look at him. He exits the bathroom stark naked, soaking wet, his muscles glistening with water. My heart pounds as I watch him cross the room and open the wardrobe. He pulls out a towel from it and turns to face me.
“Forgot a towel.”
“That’s totally fine, baby. You don’t really need one. Just stand there and drip dry while I enjoy the view.”
He grins, and the shift in his energy is palpable—his joy gives me the calm I need to force away the horrors of the day. “While I love having you objectify me in that way, I’m pretty sure sex is off the table until you’re healed, sweetheart.”
“I didn’t say anything about sex. I’d be thrilled to enjoy the view without the benefit of a happy ending.”
He smiles at me, drying himself with the towel. He moves to sit beside me on the edge of the bed, reaching out to stroke his hand down the side of my head, his palm coming to rest on my cheek. “How are you?”
“I’m okay. That was really…overwhelming.”
“I know. But it had to be done.”
“I understand that, but that doesn’t make it any easier to experience. I feel ashamed, like I should be sad that she’s dead because she’s a human being like the rest of us…but I’m not sad. I feel relieved. And that makes me feel guilty because I’m responsible for her death.”
“She was responsible for her own death. She chose to hurt you, and she knew what the consequences would be for that. I’d made it very clear to my family before you arrived that no violence against you would be tolerated.”
“I still feel responsible. I feel like I killed her myself.”
“I don’t want you to feel that weight.”
“I think it’s unavoidable at this point. To do what we want to do…to bring it all to an end.”
“I need you to let me take the guilt of that, sweetheart. It’s my responsibility to bear.”
“I don’t want you to bear it alone.” I grab his hand and pull it from my cheek so I can lock our fingers together. “I’m in this with you. I’m here for you. I’m the one who asked you to make it all right, so I have to take responsibility for all the changes you’re making.”
He unlocks our fingers and his palm moves around mine, gripping my hand and lifting my knuckles to kiss each of them in turn. “I love you, Stella. I won’t allow you to carry guilt on your shoulders. You’ve done nothing to earn it. I brought you into this world, and I’m going to make it right for you.”
I sigh, smiling, knowing there’s no point in arguing with him right now…I just don’t have the stamina for it. I let my eyes fall shut. “When I have the strength again and I’m back to normal, I’m going to be stubbornly aggressive with you about sharing the weight of the world on our shoulders.”
“I promise you, sweetheart, when you’re back to normal, we’re going to be aggressive with each other in a variety of ways. I’ve started a rather filthy list to keep track of my ideas.”
I grin at the reminder that I’ve met my match in this man. It was so easy to see him as my true soulmate when we were stripped bare of the actions we were forced to take as products of a cruel world. His essence is pure and good, and I may be the only woman in the world who can see it, but that’s all that he needs to become the man he was always meant to be.
“Promise?”
He bends and places a kiss to my forehead. “I promise.”