Make friends to make followers.
As the next in line for the throne, Baikal was going to need all the loyal people he could get, and he’d started forming that tight inner circle at a young age in preparation for when he one day took the crown.
“None of your business, asshole,” Kaz said, only for Flix to dramatically roll his eyes.
“Children,” Berga sighed at them and tugged the clunky goggles he’d been wearing up to the top of his head. He was the only one of them in full gear, from a plastic apron to elbow-length gloves, right down to little baggies for his shoes. Ironic, considering he was already set to be named Baikal’s future butcher, the man in charge of interrogations and delivering pain.
Baikal inhaled and rested his attention on the prisoner, some low-level grunt from a new gang that had cropped up over the past two years. They were small fry, nothing special, and not worth his father’s notice, hence why Kal had been saddled with the responsibility of keeping them in line.
Up until this point, they hadn’t done anything aside from petty thefts and the occasional brawl, but three nights ago, one of them had snuck into a Brumal member's home and set the place on fire. The soldier and his wife had managed to escape, and the flames had eventually been put out with only minor damage done to the home, but the message had already been delivered and couldn’t go unanswered.
“Speaking of,” Flix said, turning to Baikal, “I’ve got a Bio Chem test tomorrow I still need to study for.”
“Has he said anything?” He chucked his chin toward the guy. He’d spaced out for most of the interrogation, and that added to the screams hadn’t really caught anything their prisoner had divulged.
“Claims it was just a stupid prank gone wrong,” Berga answered, keeping his hands aloft so he didn’t accidentally drip blood on himself. He wore a similar set of glasses that Baikal did and was trailing his gaze over the prisoner’s body. “If I push him much further, I may end up killing him.”
A hacksaw and a thin needle-like dagger were set on the small wheel table to Berga’s right.
Kal typically wouldn’t have taken things this far over a small fire, but there’d been a baby and a sting—a four-legged mammal kept as pets—and he hated animal cruelty more than just about anything.
Except for maybe…
“Flix,” he said, “I need you to look into something for me.”
He’d missed something vital between Rabbit and his mother because he hadn’t bothered checking into it before. There’d been no real mystery—just an absentee parent, nothing to see there—but clearly that wasn’t true. His tiny obsession had stood his ground against Baikal their first couple encounters, no simple feat. A person like that, who wasn’t scared into silence by the Brumal Prince, so terrified of the woman that gave birth to them they’d willingly fuck a guy they didn’t like?
Something was amiss.
Baikal scowled at himself as his thoughts ran rampant. He wasn’t okay with the idea of Rabbit not liking him, but they were still relative strangers to one another in the musician's mind, and considering their encounter had included Baikal threatening him and later blackmailing him…Sure. Rabbit’s hatred was within reason.
Didn’t mean he was going to be allowed to keep it.
Baikal was going to have him begging to be his by the end of this. But first, he needed to crack through that solid exterior and wiggle his way past Rabbit’s defenses.
“Uh,” Flix shared an uncomfortable look with Kazimir, “Kal? Is there an order attached to that or…?”
“Yeah, I need you to—” Wait. If Flix did the legwork that meant he’d discover something about Rabbit before Baikal did. Kal already hated that Sila was looked upon fondly by his tiny obsession whereas his presence was met with resistance and fear. Why on Vitality would he willingly set Flix up to get close to Rabbit’s secrets? “Never mind.”
“What?” Flix blinked at him, obviously perplexed.
“I said fuck off.”
“Okay,” he threw up his hands. “Wow. Chill. I don’t even know what you’re telling me to stay away from.”
“The Prince of Music,” Kaz sneered, “no doubt.”
Baikal glared in warning, but his cousin merely lifted a shoulder, bored with the topic already. Though he’d attended that same first performance as Kal had, he’d slept through Rabbit’s playing and had no clue what about him had enthralled Baikal so heavily.
And Kal had no intention of ever filling him in because he’d murder anyone who tried to lay their hands on what was his, even his cousin.
“Rabbit Trace?” Berga asked, eyes going wide when Baikal growled. “I mean, I have no idea who that is. Definitely have never seen him perform live before.”
Flix snorted. “Good one.”
“What do you know about him?” Baikal was debating whether or not he could reach the hacksaw before Berga could flee from the room. The door was closed, but it was a cramped space, meaning not much space between him and—
“Are you thinking about cutting my tongue out?” Berga’s voice cut into his twisted thoughts.
