Baikal remained quiet for a while, only speaking when Kaz had almost reached them. “You’re lucky you saved my Possessio,” he clipped. “We aren’t done talking about this, but for now, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you.”
“Thank you.” Flix blew out a breath, then frowned when he turned and recognized the man in Kaz’s hold despite the broken nose and busted lip. “Gannon?”
“Yeah, no. What was that?” Kaz glared at Flix’s hand.
“He’s an active Shout,” Baikal filled him in, stoic when his cousin glanced between them questioningly.
“And…we’re all right with that development?”
“It’s not like anything can be done about it.”
“We could—”
“Are you about to suggest murdering or friend?”
Kazimir scowled. “Of course not. I was going to say we could use another Shout around here. Take some of the load off.”
Flix blinked, completely caught off guard by that statement.
“Besides,” Kaz added, “Nate would kill me if I did anything to Flix.”
Oh. That made way more sense.
Kazimir, like the rest of them, was more afraid of pissing off his Onus than he was of Flix staging any sort of coup.
That was…a relief.
“It’s not like Flix has ever wanted to become the Dominus anyway.” Kaz shrugged. “You owe me a fight in the ring for keeping this a secret though. You should still bleed a little for the lie.”
“Fair enough.” Friction, the private flight club owned and operated by the Satellite and the Retinue, was a hotspot they all frequented to blow off steam. It’d been a little over a month since he’d last been, so sparring with Kaz actually sounded like a good time.
“Back to business then,” Baikal stated, though it was obvious it was going to take more time for him to come around as easily as his cousin had.
“Shooter got away.” Kazimir tossed Gannon between them and dusted off his hands. “This guy was the getaway driver.”
“How’d the getaway driver end up here alone?” Baikal asked.
His cousin laughed. “Darndest thing, the shooter ran right up to the driver's side of the car and yanked him out before speeding off on his own.”
“Still,” Rabbit eyed Gannon, “that means he knows who the shooter is.”
“Word of advice,” Flix said to the bleeding man, “be honest.”
“Who’s the shooter?” Baikal twisted his hand so his palm was up and summoned smoky tendrils. The shadows writhed and twisted. “If you don’t respond within the next thirty seconds, I’ll slip this beneath your skin and let it separate the layers from your flesh one by one.”
Gannon recoiled.
“I heard there was a problem,” Berga entered seemingly out of nowhere suddenly, coming over to them on silent steps. “The whole school is talking about it. The others should be here shortly.”
“There’s no need,” Baikal told him. “Contact them and tell them to meet at the Bunker instead. We’ll bring him there and see what you can get out of him.”
Berga grinned, and Gannon made a panicked noise and twisted toward Flix.
“Are you seriously going to let them torture me?!” he cried. “I’m Aneski’s best friend!”
“Friends don’t want to fuck one another,” Flix corrected. “And I’m confident the second I explain to Ani that you tried to have me killed, he’ll take my side.”
“You’ve brainwashed him!” Gannon accused. “He would never—”
