Chapter 30

It was easy enough to slip past Madden’s security and infiltrate his home. Berga had spent enough time there to memorize the layout and knew exactly where to hide so he wouldn’t be discovered by the Mad King too early.

A small part of him wondered if he should feel guilty about what he was about to do, but then he recalled Baikal’s ultimatum, and that only drove his determination deeper. His actions, as of late, had affected far too many people to let stand. Something had to be done to correct his course, Berga more than understood that. He agreed with it wholeheartedly.

He tucked himself behind one of the trophy cases in a spot where he could view the stairs and the kitchen and waited. Admittedly, there was an inkling of doubt, the chance he was left waiting forever, or someone else arrived before Madden came down.

Berga wasn’t very good with patience, but if he rushed upstairs and made his presence known too early, he’d blow the whole plan. In order for this to work, for it all to end, there was a specific order to things that needed to be executed.

As he stood in his hiding spot, his mind began to wander. There wasn’t an inch in this place he hadn’t been. Not a single part of the floor his feet hadn’t trodden upon. He’d taken it all for granted—No, not granted. That wasn’t the right word. Advantage. He’d taken advantage of all the memories he had of this place and the man who resided here.

And he was about to do it again.

Shamelessly.

It was too late to turn back now. The trap had been set, and—

Footsteps from above had Berga freezing in place. They drew nearer until legs appeared on the top steps. He pressed himself closer to the wall as he watched Madden descend from the top level, almost giving himself away with a gasp when he saw what the man was wearing .

A gray towel was hung low around his narrow hips, and Madden was using a smaller one to dry his hair. He was humming a tune under his breath, something Berga either hadn’t heard before or couldn’t recognize. Water rolled down the expanse of his chest, further proof he’d only just finished with a shower.

Berga had always enjoyed when they’d bathed together…

Focus. He would have slapped himself if it wouldn’t have alerted his prey. As it were, he bit the inside of his cheek, silently watching as Madden entered the kitchen and pulled open the fridge.

Madden took out a beer and popped the top, discarding the smaller towel onto the counter by the sink. He wasn’t planning on lingering, already headed back the way he came, sipping his drink as he went.

That was fine, Berga allowed it, keeping still and quiet, even after Madden disappeared upstairs.

He held his position until there was a heavy thud and a curse loud enough to echo down the steps, then he shot into motion. It didn’t take any effort at all to locate the Mad King in his bedroom, and Berga already had the blaster lifted and aimed when he turned the corner and came into view.

Madden was on the ground, his back against the end of the bed, the can of beer spilling out at his side. His jaw was clenched tightly and his left hand was cupping himself between the legs beneath the towel. The second he spotted Berga, he swore .

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Butcher?” he demanded in a guttural tone that ended with a moan and subtle thrust of his hips upward.

“I increased the dosage this time,” Berga said, then winced. “Oh, right. You don’t remember the last time. Just take my word for it.”

“You drugged me?” he sounded incredulous. “Again?! Are you out of your damn mind?”

“Yes,” Berga acknowledged. “Very much so, in fact.” He held the gun steady with one hand, his other going to the snap on his belt.

Madden’s gaze shot there and he gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m not fucking you, Butcher. Get out.”

“Don’t worry. I promise this will satisfy both of us.” It was a bit tricky, but he managed to to create a small loop with the end of his belt one-handed and then motioned for Madden to lean forward. “Give me your wrists.”

“Fuck you.”

“Thought you said we weren’t doing that?”

“Are you seriously making jokes now?”

“You used to find me entertaining.”

“Yeah, well, not anymore.”

Berga sighed. “Just give me your wrists, Mad King, so we can move this along. Aren’t you starting to ache?” He motioned with the barrel of the gun at the massive tent between his thighs. “You’re going to want to take care of that soon.”

“Going to shoot me if I don’t?” He clicked his tongue. “What, no longer afraid of pissing off the Brumal elders? Harming me will incite a war between our groups.”

“I won’t harm you.” Frustrated, Berga shot forward, pressing the blaster to the center of his forehead. “Hands. Now.”

Madden hesitated but eventually gave in, settling his wrists together and holding them out so Berga could slip the leather over them and pull it tight. He grunted in discomfort but didn’t verbally protest again.

Once he was secured, Berga retreated a few steps, putting space between them.

When Madden frowned, he licked his lips.

“I know you can’t remember,” Berga began, “but you and I were fighting before the explosion. Actually, you were breaking up with me.”

“Is that why this is the first time I’ve seen you in over a month?” Madden drawled, and it sounded a lot like he was being sarcastic, but Berga couldn’t be sure. “Because we were broken up ?”

“No,” he admitted. “You didn’t see me because of the guilt. And maybe because I’m a coward.” He chuckled darkly when that earned him another frown. “I didn’t want to confront you, because at least if you didn’t remember what I did, there wouldn’t be a chance of you ever looking at me like that again.”

“Like what?”

“Like you hated me.” Berga swallowed the lump in his throat. “Like I disgusted you. ”

“When did I look at you like that?”

“Just before the car blew up.” He’d heard from Flix that Zane and the others had filled Madden in on his activities during that lost time. He knew the two of them had been seeing each other. Berga had figured since he hadn’t reached out either, Madden wanted nothing to do with him now that their time together was a blank. “It wasn’t all a lie. You believed it was, at the end, but it wasn’t.”

He squared his shoulders, determined to get this part of the plan done and over with. “You found out our first time together wasn’t as accidental as I made you believe. It’s true, I took Impression on purpose while Great and Muse were cleaning up Eric’s dead body, then I slipped one into your drink and made it seem like I was settling. I wasn’t. It was always you, Madden. You were always the one I wanted, even when I didn’t understand the gravity of that want myself.”

“What does that mean, Butcher?”

“It means,” he blew out a breath, “that yes. I came here that night intending to take advantage of you. Yes, I came because I wanted to touch your hair and see what your eyes looked like close up. Yes, I tricked you. And, yes, it was all supposed to end that night, but—”

“It didn’t,” Madden cut off his tangent. His skin was flushed, and his bound hands were back to cupping himself through the thick material of the towel. Pretty soon, that little bit of friction wouldn’t be enough .

They were running out of time.

“No. It didn’t. I tried to push you away, but you were persistent.”

“So, it’s my fault then?”

“No,” he shook his head. “No. You not giving up on me was the best thing that’s ever happened. I’m grateful for the time we got to spend together, even if it was cut shorter than I would have liked. Even if,” he searched those dark eyes but couldn’t decipher what Madden was feeling, “you can’t remember any of it. I never meant to mislead you. I thought I would get in, get out, and we would both go our separate ways. When that didn’t happen…I should have told you myself, but I didn’t.”

“Told me that you liked my hair and my eyes so much, you felt you had to drug me to get close to them?” Madden drawled.

“I know it sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t just sound stupid, Butcher,” he corrected crossly, “It is stupid. You could have just tried asking .”

Berga shook his head. “You’ve never looked at me that way. Even that night, you refused me at first.”

“Until you drugged me.”

“Yeah.”

“And this?” He thrust his hips out. “What exactly do you hope to accomplish by repeating history? What? Do you think you have a magic ass or something? That if I fuck you again, I’ll somehow unlock all those precious memories of the two of us?”

He scowled. “No. Of course not.”

“Then why—”

“I told you. I betrayed you first. I tricked you and you broke up with me. Then, before you could leave, you got caught in the crossfire. I’m the reason you were injured. I’m the reason you’ve got to deal with memory loss at all. So,” Berga moved forward and dropped to his knees in front of Madden, “deal with me. The way a Devil of Vitality would.”

He turned the blaster and then situated it into one of Madden’s hands, lifting it up and leaning in. The second he felt the cold metal against his forehead, he sighed, the first relieved sound he’d made in weeks.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Madden growled.

“It’s not a game,” Berga said.

“An experiment then?”

“Not that either.” He met Madden’s confused gaze. “It’s not an experiment. It never was. Not between us.”

This was the best way to handle everything, all at once, with one trigger pull. No one would have to worry about him making mistakes at school or the Bunker, and Berga would no longer have to go on feeling like this empty, useless thing.

Best of all, Madden would get the justice he deserved.

“It was my fault,” Berga said, tightening his hands around Madden’s cajolingly. “You wanted to make me pay, now is your chance. Do it. Let’s put an end to this properly, Mad King.”

He closed his eyes.

“And after?” Madden’s asked, voice low and threatening.

“After?” His brow furrowed, but he didn’t risk looking. “Oh. You mean the drug? After you kill me, you can call someone to come help take care of that for you.”

“Someone?”

“Yes, anyone will do. Though, I do suggest calling someone you’re attracted to. I wasn’t lying about the effects of the drug being increased. I needed to incapacitate you long enough to confess everything, but, surprisingly, I don’t really have anything in my arsenal that can force someone to sit still—at least not anything without nasty side effects.”

“Let me get this straight,” Madden said, hand clenching around the gun beneath Berga’s. “You gave me Impression so you could tie me up, convince me to shoot you in the head, and then have me go fuck someone else?”

Bega pursed his lips. “I didn’t really consider it as convincing you, since it was surely something you’d want—”

“For a certified genius,” he hissed, “you’re a real fucking moron, Jekyll.”

“I—”

Wait.

Berga’s eyes popped open .

“What did you just—” Before he could finish, Madden did as he was told.

He pulled the trigger.