VIOLENT DELIGHTS¹ ━━ John Murphy

𝖝. Tip of the Blade

𝖙𝖎𝖕 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖉𝖊

"YOU... you stabbed me."

Glass is slumped agains a tree trunk, pronouncing the words carefully like she is avoiding slurring it. Murphy supposes getting stabbed in the hand and then waking up in pain from it would have similar effects to alcohol. Less fun, though.

"Surprised?" Murphy asks. The most important girl on the ground and his enemy, in his power. "I don't know why you would be."

Here's what happened: Murphy stabbed Glass right in the hand. Obviously. It didn't take her long to completely lose consciousness. Some of Tristan's Grounder warriors wrapped her hand in green moss before chaining her to the tree trunk opposite of him. Then they went off, probably to find some more of the one-hundred to kill off before the battle starts. But that's not Murphy's problem. Not anymore.

Fortunately for him, Tristan never took Glass's knife away from him. Maybe he forgot. And Murphy's chained to a tree like her, but unlike her, his chain is more of a leash, meaning he has movement. He can walk right up to her and press the point of the knife directly under her chin, just like she did to him in the cave.

So that's just what he does.

He isn't going to kill her. For obvious reasons. But she doesn't know that.

And what's sweeter than a little revenge?

Glass looks at him defiantly. "You aren't going to kill me."

OK, maybe she does know.

"I have every reason to," Murphy snaps. "You made me your prisoner and then we were both captured by Trikru, where I was tortured before they infected me with a virus. That's all on you, princess."

Her head moves weirdly when he talks. Like she's angling her right ear towards him, tilting her left backwards. Whatever. Murphy has no time to sit here and question whatever the hell it is that she's doing.

"I saw your face when you talked about Charlotte. You're not a killer, John."

He doesn't let her see the way his confidence slips when she uses his first name. He's heard Murphy used in so many ways; spat as a slur, uttered like a death omen, and screamed like a war cry. But nobody's ever called him John. Not since before he ever gotten locked up in the Sky Box. He can't decide who sounded like they hated him more - his mom or Glass.

"Oh, really?" His mouth twists into a sneer. "I just suffocated two people and then tried to hang Bellamy Blake. You don't know who I am."

Her eyes widen at his admission, but they don't give away anything on her part.

In fact, she looks calm. Too calm. It's almost eerie.

It rattles him, though he tries not to show it. It makes him feel like her knife in his hands isn't enough. It makes him want to hurt her just to convince himself that she can be frightened, which is ridiculous; he already stabbed her in the hand. Even if that was more of an accident out of a dangerous combination of panic and rage and fear that combusted while she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, she doesn't know that.

She should be scared of him. Not the other way around.

Maybe if she bowed and scraped, then he'd let her go. Acknowledged that he was superior than her in this one instance. A little bit of groveling wouldn't be super tragic, at least, not in Murphy's humble opinion.

"Planning on spilling more royal blood tonight?" Glass dares him in a low, bold taunt. "My hand wasn't enough? My hearing?"

Figures. The only begging she'll do is begging to differ.