Chapter 29

“This can’t keep happening, what is wrong with you?”

“Forgive me, Professor.” Berga hung his head, accepting the scolding his Chemistry 14 teacher was giving him.

In the middle of the hallway.

In front of everyone passing by.

He didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. Truthfully, it was hard for Berga to hold onto any feelings at all as of late. They were too fleeting. Too ephemeral. The second he thought he had a handle on something, he’d blink and it would be gone.

That sort of applied to everything now, not just emotions.

Like his studies.

“I’ve already forgiven the other four occasions,” Professor Essi pinched the bridge of her nose. She was a woman in her late fifties who’d been with the school for over three decades. She’d also written numerous award-winning scientific papers and was one of Berga’s most influential idols.

Up until recently, she’d only had praise to give him.

“It was one thing when you blew up your own personal lab every other month,” she stated firmly, “but you almost created a gas bomb just now, and it was all due to your carelessness. What has gotten into you?”

Berga had mixed the wrong chemical composition. It was the type of a mistake even a freshman would know better than to make.

“I—” He lost all train of thought when he glanced over her shoulder and his eyes landed on a familiar figure making his way down the hall.

They hadn’t seen one another since Berga had fled the hospital last month, and greedily, he took the other man in from head to toe, searching for any lingering injuries. If there were any, however, they weren’t visible.

Madden strolled past whispering Vail University students with his head held high and his usual cocky gait. He was dressed in his Academy uniform, a sign he’d come straight from there. He’d started back at school a little over two weeks ago, so that wasn’t surprising.

As he headed Berga’s way, the Butcher’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, breath catching in his throat.

Until the Mad King walked right past him.

Without so much as a single glance in his direction.

Berga deflated.

“I know you keep saying you’re fine after the accident that took place here,” the professor said then, as if oblivious to Berga’s renewed melancholy. “But are you certain? You’ve been acting far too out of character for it to be nothing. I really think you should go and get a brain scan, just in case—”

“You’re here,” Zane’s voice cut through Berga’s mind, and he stopped listening to the professor, turning to find the other med student exiting a nearby classroom. He was talking to Madden, who’d stopped in front of him.

So, that’s who Madden had come to see.

Of course.

Berga was a fool for hoping, even if it’d only been for that split second.

Madden’s memories hadn’t been recovered and there was a very good chance they never would. Which was fine.

Better even .

It meant Berga didn’t have to worry about the two of them breaking up. At least this way, they could just slip into nonexistence. Make it as though nothing had ever even happened.

Erase it from reality, the same way Madden had erased Berga from his consciousness.

“Yeah,” Madden replied lightly. “Why’d you want to meet here?”

“It’s closer to that BBQ place you like,” Zane explained.

“Is it?”

Berga bristled childishly. He’d been the one to introduce the Mad King to that restaurant in the first place. Asshole Zane. Asshole Zane with his asshole—

“Mr. Obsidian,” the professor heaved a sigh, “are you even listening to me?”

“Of course,” he replied on autopilot. “I promise not to accidentally almost kill the entire class a second time.”

“You almost what?” Zane and Madden had been heading back this way, but he paused now and lifted a thin brow at Berga. “Did I hear that correctly?”

“Mr. Solace,” the professor greeted, though she did nothing to hide her frustration toward the Butcher. “Perhaps you can spare some time and go over the basic composition of x-c0L with Mr. Obsidian. It seems he’s somehow forgotten all about it and why it shouldn’t be mixed with 4-Rt.”

Had Berga referred to her as an idol in his head before ?

He’d been mistaken.

What were the odds he could slip something into her coffee later without getting caught?

“I’m sure he has better things to do,” Berga stated dryly, “like hang out with his friends.”

Madden chuckled and tossed an arm around Zane’s neck, pulling him in close. “True. We’re actually headed out for lunch, so any potential lessons will have to wait.”

“Would you like to join us?” Zane asked, and Berga’s eyes narrowed when he realized he was asking him and not the professor.

Was he trying to rub it in that he got to spend time with Madden and Berga didn’t?

Asshole.

Forget the professor's coffee.

He’d—

“Looks like he’s got his hands full already,” Madden said, and when Berga frowned, he pointed past him and the professor into the classroom.

The classroom currently filling with pink smoke.

“Good Light!” the professor darted inside to put out whatever fire or chemical issue had been started, but Berga merely stood there and ran his fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I swear I turned the burner off when she called me out here…” Had he not?

How embarrassing.

For real this time .

His cheeks flushed and he found it hard to turn back to the Mad King, keeping his back to them as he waved them off and said, “Have a good lunch.”

He might have heard a chuckle as he reentered the room, but it also could have just been his imagination.

* * *

“This can’t keep happening. What is wrong with you?”

Where had he heard that before?

Berga slipped his hands into his lab coat pockets and kept his gaze down, hoping being submissive would make the scolding end faster.

How many times was this now?

Five?

Eleven?

“I told you we needed him alive.” Baikal flicked a wrist at the cadaver laid out on the metal table.

The one who, only five minutes ago, had still been breathing.

“I gave him a little bit too much,” Berga said. “I must have mixed the wrong amount of—”

“Enough,” he snapped. “This is the twelfth body in the past four weeks!”

“Maybe he should take some time off,” Flix suggested. The three of them were in Berga’s lab at the bunker, but up until this point, his best friend had remained silent. It was apparent by his expression he was worried, and also agreed with Baikal that Berga was a royal screwup .

They weren’t wrong.

All of the things he’d prided himself on were slipping through his fingers like sand at the beach. His impeccable record at school? He was one mark away from expulsion, his family name and position within the Brumal be damned.

And here?

His eyes drifted to the body that was still oozing green slime from the ears.

Less than two months ago, his name was going to be written down in the history books as the best Butcher the Brumal mafia had ever had.

Now…

“The elders have heard what’s been going on,” Baikal stated. “They are not pleased.”

“I imagine not,” he agreed with a sigh, pressing at the spot between his brows that was thumping wildly.

“Take this seriously.”

“I am.” Berga dropped his hand, a speak of blood across his knuckles catching his attention. He’d worked on the prisoner without gloves. He wasn’t wearing plastic on his shoes or on his head either. The goggles were still in regular use, but that was because no one wanted vomit or gunk in their eyes.

He stared at the blood spot for a long time, longer than he probably should have, and had no clue what Baikal was talking about when the Dominus finally got fed up and shoved him.

Berga knocked into the rolling metal table, sending scalpels and needles clattering to the ground.

“Baikal,” Flix sounded disappointed, but Berga couldn’t tell who that disappointment was aimed at.

Why was he trying so hard?

Berga lifted his hand again, this time palm up. He’d braced himself on the surface of the table, but had ended up on one of the spiked blades. It’d sliced through his skin, the cut thin, but deep enough blood welled.

“This isn’t something that can be fixed with time,” Baikal growled. “You need to get yourself together, Butcher. Madden—”

“This has nothing to do with him,” he stated.

“ Madden ,” he reiterated, “is out there living his life like nothing ever happened. He’s flourishing while you’re here doing…” he motioned at him with disgust, “this.”

“Do I disgust you, Dominus?” Berga supposed it was only a matter of time, really.

“The way you’re acting disgusts me, not—”

“Madden can go on like nothing happened because he doesn’t remember anything,” Berga interrupted. “I do not have that luxury.”

“Then you need to make a decision, quick. Either forget about him, or quit your position as the Butcher.”

“All right.”

Baikal blew out a breath. “Good. I’m glad—”

“I quit.”

“What?!” Flix rushed forward, latching onto his arm, but Baikal merely stared. “Berga, you’re not thinking straight. If you give up being the Butcher, you have to leave the Brumal. You can’t—”

“Those were my options.” He shrugged and took a definitive step back, bowing low and holding that position a respectable amount of time before straightening. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I apologize for letting you down.”

“Stop,” Baikal ordered when he went to leave.

“Yeah, stop him, he—” Flix began, only to be cut off.

“Is it that you can’t forget him,” Baikal asked. “Or that you won’t?”

In honor of their very long friendship, Berga took a moment to really think it over before answering, even though he already knew what he was going to say.

“Both. You know me.” He smiled solemnly. “I’ve never been very good at forgetting.”

His hallucinations of his sister were gone, but even that hadn’t been his doing. He owed it all to Madden. The thought of carrying the Mad King the same way he’d lugged around the girl in the pink dress…Berga didn’t want that.

But he couldn’t forget either.

“Fine,” Baikal conceded.

Berga bowed again, a little quicker this time, and turned, yet still didn’t get very far.

“Wait!” Flix called out, but Baikal wasn’t finished.

“I’ll rephrase my orders,” the Dominus stated, pausing until Berga twisted to lock eyes with him. “Either get him back, or you’re fired.”

Berga frowned. “What?”

“You heard me. Your issue with Madden is what’s causing all of these problems. Once you’ve reclaimed him, things will finally get back to normal around here.”

“But…” Berga blinked in confusion. “Didn’t you want us to break up?”

“What about the elders?” Flix helpfully asked.

“Screw them,” Baikal said. “Last I checked, I was the leader of the Brumal, not those old geezers. Besides, I’m sure I can come up with some way to convince them this somehow works in our favor. Worst comes to worst, I threaten them with the Butcher’s skills.”

“Excuse me?” Berga had to be hearing things.

“If I tell them I’m in support of your relationship, and they can either get behind it or die…” He smirked wickedly. “How many of them do you really think won’t take that threat seriously? All I have to do is mention how you could slip them some horrible toxin without them even knowing and I bet they all roll over like the pathetic waste of space they are.”

It was true that Baikal hated most of the elders on the board who opposed his rule, and that he’d been plotting various ways to remove them, but up until now, he’d shown an interest in doing that the legal way.

“If threats are an option, you don’t need me to do it,” he pointed out. “Your shadows are terrifying enough on their own.”

Baikal hummed in agreement, but didn’t change his mind. “Leave the opposition within the Brumal to me. Focus on getting the Royal back.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing worth it ever is,” he replied. “Berga, are you really willing to lose everything?”

“Go.” Flix pushed him lightly toward the door, determination brewing in his eyes. “Go find him and fix this.”

“You too?” Berga sighed, but that didn’t deter his best friend, who kept shoving until he was standing out in the hallway.

“Go,” Flix repeated sternly, “and don’t return until you’ve gotten him back.”

Berga opened his mouth, but the door was slammed shut in his face, leaving him momentarily speechless.

Since there was no reason to stand around here, he resigned himself to the inevitable. They had a point, in any case. The way he’d been handling things wasn’t working. He needed a real solution. A more permanent one.

He stopped by the university first to collect a few things from his private lab, then sent off a message in his group chat with Bay and Nate asking if they knew where Madden might currently be. When the latter responded back that he should be at the boathouse, Berga opted to waste no more time.

Tonight, he would put an end to it all .

No more disappointments.

No more disgust.

Baikal had asked if he was willing to lose everything, but that was because he didn’t know the truth.

Berga already had.