Stella Monroe - POV
Four men wait for me on stage like executioners tuning their instruments.
The Old Concert Hall looks like angels come here to die. Vaulted ceilings disappear into darkness. Gold leaf peels from the walls in strips. A pipe organ looms behind the stage, pipes reaching up like skeletal fingers.
Midnight. Just past. And I'm standing in the center aisle like prey that walked into its own trap.
Stage lights snap on. Blinding.
"Close the doors." The voice comes from the piano. A man sits there, spine straight, fingers resting on keys. Not looking at me. "Lock them."
My hand is still on the door handle. I don't close it. Don't move forward either.
"Afraid?" A second man leans against a cello, watching me with dark eyes and a slight smile. "Smart girl."
"Stop playing with her, Elijah." The pianist's fingers tap once against the keys. The sound echoes. "We have limited time."
A third man stands behind a conductor's podium. Completely still. Silver eyes track my every breath. His hand wraps around a baton, and somehow that's more threatening than any weapon.
"Jesus, Callum, let her breathe." The fourth man sits on the stage edge, violin across his knees. Wild curls. Paint-stained hands. Younger than the others. "Hey. Stella, right? I'm Asher. That's Callum at the piano. Elijah with the cello. And the silent type is Maverick."
Maverick's eyes narrow. He taps the baton against his podium. Once. Sharp.
"He says you need to come closer." Asher tilts his head. "Can't do this from across the room."
"Do what?" My voice sounds braver than I feel.
"Answer questions." Callum finally looks at me. His face is all sharp angles. Mathematical precision. "Starting with what you heard before Marcus Rothschild died."
The death song. They know about the death song.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Lie." Callum's voice is flat. "Your pulse increased. Your breathing changed. The molecular vibration in your voice indicates deception. Try again."
"What are you, a human lie detector?"
"Yes." No hesitation. No humor. "Perfect pitch extends beyond music. I hear the truth or falsehood in every voice, every word. Yours included."
I take one step forward. My legs feel like water, but I move anyway. If I'm going to die here, it won't be cowering by the door.
"Fine. I heard something. A melody. Before he died."
"A death song." Elijah stands, moving with liquid grace. "Your mother called them that. Little warnings playing in your head days before someone dies."
My chest tightens. "How do you know about my mother?"
"Because she stood exactly where you're standing twenty-two years ago." Callum stands from the piano bench. Walks to the stage edge. Looks down at me like I'm a problem he's calculating. "Rebecca Monroe. Age nineteen. Conduit."
"Conduit?"
"Someone whose blood amplifies supernatural abilities." Elijah gestures to the four of them. "Your mother spent six years bound to us. Well, to the previous generation. Our fathers."
"Bound." The word tastes like metal.
"Blood binding." Asher picks up his violin, turns it over in his hands. "A ritual that ties a Conduit to musicians with gifts. Their blood amplifies our abilities. Makes us stronger. In return, their gift gets stronger too."
"My mother didn't have any gifts."
"Wrong." Callum's voice cuts through the space between us. "She had the same ability you do. Hearing death before it arrives. But she couldn't stop it. Couldn't prevent it. Couldn't save anyone." He pauses. "Until she bound herself to our fathers. Then she could change outcomes. Alter decisions. Save the people she heard dying."
My throat closes.
"You're lying."
"I don't lie. Can't. The sound of falsehood is physically painful to me. Every word I speak is true." His eyes don't blink. "Your mother saved hundreds of lives while bound. Then she ran. Broke the binding. And couldn't save anyone ever again. Not even herself."
The hit and run. My mother's death song that played for a week. Her sad smile when I begged her to stay home.
"I know, Stella. I've been hearing it too."
"If she was so powerful bound to you, why did she run?"
Silence drops like a weight.
"Because it was killing her." Asher's voice is quiet. "The binding drains the Conduit's life force. Slowly. She lasted six years. Then she chose herself over us."
"Good." The word comes out hard. "She should have."
"Her choice had consequences." Callum descends the stage steps. Stops five feet away. "Breaking a blood binding improperly destroys both parties. Your mother spent seventeen years dying from what she did. Our fathers lost their gifts entirely and died within months of each other."
The room tilts.
"What do you want from me?"
"The same thing." Elijah moves to the other side of the stage. They're surrounding me without seeming to move. "We need a Conduit. Our gifts are fading. We have less than a year before they're gone."
"Find someone else."
"There is no one else." Callum's voice is clinical. Factual. "The death-hearing ability is rare. Genetic. Your grandmother had it. Your mother. Now you. And after you?" He shrugs. "No one. You're the last Conduit our families have access to."
"Not. My. Problem." I take a step back.
Maverick appears behind me. Silent. Blocking the aisle. When did he move?
"Let me go."
"Can't." Asher stands, sets his violin down carefully. "Your mother signed a blood contract before her binding. Twenty-five years of service. She served six. That leaves nineteen."
"She's dead. Contract's void."
"Blood contracts pass to next of kin." Elijah's warmth is gone now. His voice is cold calculation. "You inherited her debt the moment she died."
"That's not legal. You can't own people."
"Human law doesn't apply to blood magic." Callum watches me like I'm a specimen under glass. "And whether you accept it or not, the contract activated the moment you entered this building."
My breath stops.
"I didn't agree to anything."
"You came. That's agreement enough."
A melody starts in my head. Soft. Wrong. Four notes spiraling down into darkness.
A death song.
But this one is different. It's not distant. Not for someone across the room or days away.
It's immediate. It's close.
It's mine.
"She hears it." Callum tilts his head, listening to something I can't hear. "Her heartbeat changed."
"Hears what?" Elijah looks between us.
"Her own death song." Callum's voice is completely neutral. "The contract is incomplete. If she leaves without binding, the magic kills her. Payment for breach of contract."
The melody grows louder. Drowning out my thoughts.
"How long?" My voice sounds far away.
Callum's eyes narrow slightly. Calculating. "Four minutes. Maybe five."
I look at the doors. Then at the four men caging me in. Then back to the doors.
My mother ran. It killed her slowly.
If I run, I die in four minutes.
"We don't want to force this." Asher's voice is almost kind. Almost. "But we will if we have to. It's easier if you choose."
"That's not a choice."
"No." Callum returns to the piano. Sits. "But it's the illusion of one. That's more than most Conduits get."
Asher opens a wooden box on stage. Pulls out a knife. The blade is old, stained dark with years of use.
Maverick places sheet music on four stands. Precise. Practiced.
The death song fills my skull. Loud enough to hurt.
"What happens if I agree?"
"We bind you to us." Elijah's voice softens slightly. "Your blood mixes with ours. Your gift amplifies ours. Our connection amplifies yours. You'll be able to prevent the deaths you hear. Save people. Like your mother did."
"And then I die young like she did.
"Probably." Callum's honesty is brutal. "But you die in four minutes if you don't. At least this way, you have time. Years, maybe. And the ability to actually use your gift for something other than useless warnings."
The death song crescendos. I can barely think through the noise.
"The binding can't be undone without killing everyone involved." Elijah moves behind me. Fully blocking the exit now. "So you should probably stop looking at that door."
My mother's voice echoes in my memory. "Some debts can't be paid, baby. Only passed on."
She tried to run. It killed her anyway.
At least if I do this, maybe I can save someone. Use this curse for something good before it burns me out.
"Fine." The word tastes like ash. "Do it."
Callum's fingers rest on the piano keys. "Try not to scream. The acoustics in here are unforgiving."
He plays one chord.
The world splits open.