He’d get the shares once he’d die anyway so long as they were left in his will, so Baikal didn’t really see why this was necessary other than to simply remind them all Sullivan didn’t have much more time to live. Which of course Kal already fucking knew. It was practically all he could think about, ever since that day the doctor had sat him down and explained why his father had collapsed in the garden during his morning walk.
For the fifth time.
Baikal had been on the verge of exploding, his power swelling inside of him along with the rage and the uncertainty to the point he’d thought for sure he was going to erupt and force the entire planet into a state of perpetual darkness. He’d been a terror to be around the first couple of months after the diagnosis, and because the health of the Dominus was so important, that information had been kept classified and he hadn’t been able to talk about it with anyone.
He’d been considered a devil before, but everyone around him during that time thought he’d gotten worse. Anyone said or did anything that could tick him off in the slightest and he was either putting them in the hospital or driving them half mad by trapping them in a room of black smoke with no way out until he’d calmed down.
Baikal wasn’t a good person, had been raised to be lethal and arrogant, and domineering. He expected obedience wherever he went, but up until that point had kept his violent tendencies to a minimum. He’d started hurting people who didn’t fully deserve to be hurt, and had started hating himself and his life altogether. On the outside, he’d attended classes and meetings and, aside from those outbursts, acted like everything was fine. But on the inside, he’d been contemplating destroying everything, because if everything was already destroyed, there’d be nothing left for him to lose, and that hadn’t sounded all that bad.
Then he’d attended that music performance and had seen Rabbit. Had listened and watched him play.
Had felt the first stirrings of the soul he’d thought for sure he no longer possessed.
Rabbit Trace was the balm that could soothe his inner storm, the one and only thing that could keep him from saying fuck it to the world and going on a mad rampage. It was selfish of Baikal to claim and mark him, but even knowing that wasn’t enough to have him change his mind.
Kal wasn’t a sociopath like his friend Kelevra, and though he leaned toward psychopathic tendencies, he wasn’t one of those either. Sure, he was easily bored, showed little to no remorse for the things he did, and got off on manipulating others, but that was by design more than anything. That’s how his father had raised him to be, crafting him to be the perfect killer because it took being able to murder without batting an eye to keep control of the Brumalanda conglomerate.
He could afford to explosively kill too—Kel got away with that all the time—but where his friend liked to get straight to the end, Baikal preferred to play with his food.
So if Rabbit wanted to draw this out and make him wait for it? That was fine by him.
And if his father wanted him to hold off on erasing Kor and his segment from this plane of existence? That was all right too.
Because in the end, no matter what anyone else wanted, Baikal would get his way.
Eventually.
He signed his name over the blank line with the stylus, then held his thumb over so the device could take a picture. And just like that it was done. If he so chose, he could have ousted his father from the CEO chair that very second.
But he never would. Baikal may be a devil, but even the devil knew the importance of loyalty.
With that out of the way, his father dismissed him, but before Baikal had taken more than a few steps toward the door, Chesh called him back.
“Master Kal, if things do escalate, I beseech you to please refrain from using your Shout abilities to tear people apart in public spaces. The last time it was captured on a security camera and the footage was shared. It was a real hassle trying to track down and delete all of the videos. My wife did not appreciate my four-day absence.”
Baikal grinned widely and winked, exiting without another word.
He may enjoy manipulating people, but he’d made it a habit not to make promises if he didn’t fully intend to keep them, and that? Well. He couldn’t say for certain he wouldn’t use shadow-sway on someone with witnesses around. Life was too spontaneous to be able to know how things might end up playing out one day down the line.
As soon as the door sealed shut behind him, however, the grin vanished and he was overcome by a heavy wave of exhaustion and anger. The first, for having to put up a front in the first place and act like everything was peachy despite his father being in the process of dying, and the second because…well. His father was dying.
Baikal dutifully sent a secure message to Whim, waiting until he got a confirmation that the order was going to be followed before pulling up a blank chat screen. Stairs connected the floors, but he preferred taking the private elevators, not in the mood to run into any of the estate staff that may be cleaning or whatever.
The metal doors shut and he leaned against the wall as it lowered him to his floor, fingers hesitating over the keys on his multi-slate.
Baikal:My dad will be dead soon.
He stared down at the message for a long time, so long he didn’t realize when the doors opened, and they’d already started to close again since no one had gotten off. Stepping out, he went straight down the long hall to his bedroom.
All eight of the rooms on this level of the building were his to do with as he pleased, and over the years some of their purposes had altered or changed, but his room had remained the same, the one space he allowed no one else to enter under pain of death, including his satellites. Yet still, even once he was inside his safe zone, he didn’t hit send.
To him, Rabbit was his escape from his demons.
To Rabbit, Baikalwasthe demon.
He deleted the vulnerable message and typed out something else.
Baikal:What are you wearing, little bunny?
