Page 61 of Devil May Lie

“Royal Sunday Ilya,” Madden introduced. “If he’d come here to meet with Baikal, you would have met with him upon arrival, as it were, he’s visiting at Kelevra’s behest.”

“His sister’s,” Sunday corrected, “actually.”

“Whatever,” Kaz dismissed him and glowered at Madden all over again. “Since when was Berga someone you’d start a war for? Dating?” He snorted. “Yeah right. You’re not his type.”

“What makes you say that?” Madden asked.

“I’ve seen the guys he’s hooked up with in the past. They look nothing like you. They’re soft and sweet, for one. You’re—”

“Majestic and amazing?” Madden ran a hand through his hair and winked.

“If you’re making jokes, you must not care about him as much as you’re trying to make it seem. Just hand him over before—Shit.” Kazimir swore at his multi-slate but took the incoming call. “Yeah? No, I’m still at the Docks.”

Madden could vaguely make out the sound of Baikal Void’s voice on the other end of the line, but Kazimir’s responses made the topic of their conversation obvious enough he didn’t have to actually hear anything the Dominus of the Brumal mafia was saying.

“Berga…might not be able to take a look at that any time soon,” Kazimir said. “Whose sister died?”

“He can’t see a dead female body at the moment,” Bay interrupted, shocking them all into momentary silence, but he held firm. “I’m serious. As his doctor and friend, unless you want what happened tonight to occur more frequently, he can’t be told or shown the body of someone’s dead sister.”

Kazimir frowned. “Did you get that?” He hummed when Baikal must have acknowledged he had. “Who do you want me to call in instead? Fern? Okay. I’ll meet them at the Bunker shortly.”

“You have to go?” Nate asked as soon as Kaz had ended the call.

“You all should,” Madden stated, seizing this opportunity to get rid of them. “Except you, Bay. If you could hang around a bit longer, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Bay agreed.

“Let’s leave,” Nate tugged on Kazimir’s arm when the Underboss hesitated. “Berga will be fine.”

“You call what just happened fine?” Kazimir argued, but he gave in anyway and after sending one last warning look Madden’s way, allowed Nate to pull him toward the stairs.

“If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss my ship,” Sunday exclaimed, rising with a flourish. “As always, had a fantastic evening, Madden. You never disappoint in the entertainment department.”

“Are you saying watching my man have a breakdown in front of an audience is entertaining?” Madden saw red. “Because if so—”

“Look at the time.” Sunday slipped out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

Madden sighed. “The doctor’s report is on my tablet,” he told Bay once the two of them were alone. “You can have a look if you’d like.”

“I don’t think it would let me know anything more than you already have,” Bay said.

“Are you still not going to tell me what’s wrong with him?” He felt…helpless. And that sucked. Madden wasn’t used to feeling that way about anything. He’d been the golden child since birth, got whatever he wanted without having to ask for it, and coasted through life with a diamond spoon in his mouth.

If there was ever a problem, he solved it. Period. Hell, half the time, people were coming to him for aid—even the damn Satellite, despite how Kaz had made things sound.

“I told you—”

“You gave me a convoluted diagnosis,” Madden corrected, a bit more sharply than he’d meant to. It’d only just happened, but that panicked feeling in his chest still hadn’t abated. When he’d spotted Berga standing in the middle of the track, staring off at nothing, mumbling under his breath…It’d been so obvious something was horribly wrong. “He had the same look in his eye as that day at the Academy.”

Not to mention, he’d hit both Nate and Kazimir, who were friends of Berga’s.

“Berga is violent,” Madden added, “but he doesn’t get physical with anybody.” Absently, he lifted a hand to the bandaged wound on his left shoulder. The knife had barely punctured him, and he hadn’t felt a thing at the time, too concerned over calming the Butcher down before things escalated past the point of return.

“If you’re worried about this affecting the races—”

“Fuck the races,” he snapped. “I don’t give a shit about that. If people stop coming then the Docks was never what I thought it was anyway.” Most of the crowd probably viewed it the same way Sunday had. As entertainment. With a growl, Madden tore his multi-slate off his wrist and lifted the device to his ear as soon as he found the contact he was after.

“What’s up?” Ledger’s voice came through, the sound of classical music drifting in along with it. He must be at his brother’s restaurant. “Have you enrolled my guy yet?”

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