“You did not just seriously call yourself that.” Rabbit felt a prick of humor slip past the melancholy.
“What’s wrong, little bunny? Unlike some, I come to grips with my reality rather quickly. And your reality,” he nipped at his earlobe, “is that you’ve signed a binding contract with a Devil. And this Devil? He refuses to share you with anyone or anything else. Not even a phantom. I’ll get you past this, Rabbit. I’ll show you there’s nothing for you to fear from the dark. I control the shadows, remember? I control everything.”
No one could control everything, but in the dim room, encased in Baikal’s arms, Rabbit found he didn’t want to argue that fact. For the first time in a long time, he’d spoken about the monster in his closet, and even if he wasn’t yet ready to actually remember the tragic events of that night, he was hopeful that just maybe one day he now might be.
Chapter 25:
Blood splattered on Baikal’s shoe and he scowled.
A few feet away, Berga gagged and turned to partially hide behind Flix’s back, who rolled his eyes at the display.
“You cut people into pieces for a living,” Flix reminded. “While they’re stillawake.”
“You’ve got to move past this issue,” Kazimir agreed, shoving the other prisoner they’d brought to the ground.
The man was in his mid-thirties, eyes wide as his knees were forced into a pool of blood. He kept staring at the person he’d been brought in with, the guy Baikal had just shot in the heart.
The one who’d they’d confirmed had been responsible for drugging and attempting to kidnap Rabbit that day.
They were in the foyer of the Void estate, Kal’s satellite having already concluded they’d caught the right guys before being ordered to bring them straight here. He’d left school in the middle of the day to deal with it, barely containing his rage as he’d sped down the streets to get here.
He’d come crashing through the massive double doors, demanded to know which of the two prisoners was the one who’d drugged his tiny obsession, and had pulled out his blaster and killed the man without batting an eye.
“Mazzie isn’t going to be pleased,” Whim, his father’s underboss who was standing at the foot of the stairs, stared at the mess and shook his head. “She’s always talking about how hard it is to scrub blood out of the floorboards.”
“I’ll make it worth her effort,” Kal said absently, still feeling strung and coiled. He shifted the barrel of the blaster in front of the second prisoner, noting the man was missing three of his fingers and part of the bottom half of his left ear. A pointed glance at the dead guy was all it took for his cousin to understand what he was wordlessly asking.
“The reason he doesn’t have that much damage is because Berga, the absolute psycho, cut out his damn tongue,” Kazimir informed him.
Berga, who’d recovered some from his queasiness, popped his head out from behind Flix and shrugged. “You ordered me to get them talking quick once they were brought in. I went the extreme route to incentivize the other one into spilling.”
“And the fingers?” Baikal lifted a brow.
“Apparently watching his friends tongue get snipped out with garden sheers wasn’t enough incentive after all.”
“You’ve got some serious problems,” Kazimir said.
“I got the job done,” Berga disagreed.
Kaz motioned toward his feet. “You’ve got blood on the end of your pants.”
Berga freaked out, shooting away from the body, face turning green before he realized he’d been messed with. “Sleep with one eye open, Ambrose.”
“Why? You want to steal it?”
“Enough.” Baikal tipped his head at the man still shaking on his knees before him. “You said he confessed?”
“He works for the Shepards,” Flix told him. “I confirmed it myself before we contacted you.”
“So your theory that Kor is behind this is wrong?” Whim asked. He was about thirty years older than the rest of them, only a few years younger than Baikal’s father. Like the Void’s, he’d been born into this life and had been loyal all this time. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else it was a traitor, so he’d been onboard with Kal’s plan to wipe Kor’s segment out if they could prove he’d had a hand in the attacks.
“Actually,” Berga held up a finger, “it isn’t. We were able to both confirm that while these men are part of the Shepard gang, it isn’t their leader who hired them to exercise the attacks.”
“He said we’d be welcomed into the Brumal if we did what he said,” the man at Baikal’s feet stated. “If he took over, he’d take in any of the Shepard’s who wanted out.”
“What’s a gang compared to a prestigious organization like a mafia?” Kazimir grinned.
Flix snorted. “Prestigious.”
