Chapter 8
REICH
Inavigated through the crowd, my focus sharp, eyes locked on the main stage ahead as if it were the only thing anchoring me to the moment.
Bodies swayed and collided around me, a living sea of heat and motion, but I moved through it like a current against the tide—fluid, purposeful, unbothered.
I had the advantage of height, and I used it without thinking, slipping between dancers and drinkers with the kind of practiced ease that came from years of navigating far more dangerous places.
Music throbbed through the air like an electrical current, the heavy bass vibrating under my skin until it felt like a second heartbeat—louder, more insistent than my own.
For a brief, reckless moment, I let myself feel it.
The pulse of life outside duty.
Outside blood and obligation.
Up ahead, I spotted Castor. He was leaning against the edge of one of the vendor tents, half-hidden in shadows, a drink in one hand and his attention fixed on someone I couldn’t quite see.
I didn’t blame him.
This was our one designated night to forget—to escape the weight of everything we carried. A night off from the kill lists and surveillance footage. A night where we could pretend we were nothing more than men with nothing to run from.
I’d never admit it out loud, but I was glad he’d convinced me to come.
Maybe I needed this more than I thought.
As I neared the front row, I stopped, dead in my tracks.
A girl stood directly in my path.
Small and Petite.
Her shoulders were tense, hunched ever so slightly forward like she was bracing herself against something invisible. Her fingers absently twirled a lock of her hair—nervous, distracted.
And then, without warning, she yawned.
The most exaggerated, over-the-top yawn I’d ever seen.
Like she was doing it on purpose, and I smirked before I could stop myself.
But it wasn’t the yawn that caught me.
It was her hair.
A mesmerizing blend of deep coffee brown and warm caramel streaks, as rich and wild as something you’d see on a canvas.
The ends were dyed a bold green, the color vivid even in the low light, and woven through those thick, wavy strands were wildflowers—tiny blooms in soft whites and muted pale colors.
And then I saw it.
A glint of light catching on the bracelet at her wrist.
A simple thing, but it struck me like a hammer to the ribs.
Recognition was instant.
My trespasser.
It was her.
The woman I’d been watching from the deck.
The woman who walked through my territory as if it belonged to her.
The woman I’d told myself was harmless—until now.
Before I could process these thoughts, a man approached her.
Blonde. Beach-boy swagger.
I knew the type.
Knew the false ease, the practiced charm, the easy grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. I knew exactly who he was, and I knew exactly what was in the drink he offered her.
And when she accepted it without hesitation.
Without any question.
That made my stomach clench hard.
A sharp, brutal twist of heat and something darker had churned in my gut because she had no idea what she’d just done.
No idea the kind of monsters she was inviting into her life and the danger she’d just let that close.
I moved before I had time to think.
Instinct.
No strategy or calculation.
I closed the distance between us in seconds, sliding through the crush of bodies until I was close enough to catch the scent of her—earth and musk, like wildflowers after a rainstorm.
I was close enough that if I reached out, I could touch her.
Close enough to feel the low, steady hum of tension in her spine.
“You shouldn’t take what isn’t yours.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
Cold. Controlled.
But it got her attention.
She turned, startled, her green eyes flashing as they locked on mine.
Green.
Brilliant and sharp, like new growth cutting through cracked brick.
For a split second, I forgot why I was there.
Forgot what I was doing, until I remembered the cup and took it from her, spilling its content onto the ground. It was then she scowled.
The confusion in her expression twisted fast into defiance, her chin tilting up in a challenge.
“What the hell?” she snapped.
I didn’t answer. Didn’t give her time to react.
She gasped, jerking back in anger.
Eyes narrowing as her hand flexed by her side.
“A warning,” I said.
My tone was cold. Colder than I meant it to be but it was the only way I knew how to keep control.
She straightened in front of me, trying to shake it off, trying to mask the ripple of fear attempting to poke through. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I met her gaze without flinching. “It was spiked.”
For a heartbeat, there was nothing.
Then the color drained from her face. Her fingers trembled at her sides. Not from fear of me it seemed—but of the truth settling into her bones.
The crowd around us erupted into cheers as the next set hit the stage, but she didn’t move.
She stood frozen, caught between fight and flight.
I shifted closer.
Not to crowd her.
To shield her.
I was close enough to feel the shudder in her breath.
I reached out—slow, deliberate—and slipped an arm around her shoulders. Her body tensed for half a second before she relented, letting me turn her toward the stage.
She fit against me too easily.
Too perfectly, and it unsettled me more then I initially thought it would.
“You came here to enjoy the music,” I murmured, my breath brushing her ear, “Let’s make sure you can.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move.
And then… she leaned into me.
A quiet surrender.
Her body softening against mine like it had always been meant to be there.
Her hair brushed against my chin, the wildflowers woven through it brushing my skin like a memory I hadn’t lived yet.
Like something alive, wild and untouchable.
And somehow, I felt… calm.
We stood there as the music poured over us, as the crowd surged and swayed like an ocean caught in a storm, but she was still.
She moved only when I did.
Her body syncing with mine as though we shared some rhythm only the two of us could hear.
For a while, I let myself believe the moment could last.
That we were just two people lost in music.
That nothing else mattered, but then the set ended, and that spell seemed to shatter.
She turned towards me; her green eyes clouded with something I couldn’t quite name.
Fear.
Confusion.
Maybe both.
Then, without warning, she bolted.
Slipped from my grasp like water through clenched fists.
Vanished into the crush of bodies before I could catch my breath.
I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think.
I moved after her, relentless.
The crowd was thick, but I knew how to move through it. I was a predator in their midst, and she was the only thing I saw.
What was she running from?
Me?
Herself?
Then I found her.
Collapsed on the ground, trembling, hands fisted in her hair like she was holding her head together, and Sam, my brother’s girlfriend, was already there.
Kneeling beside her, whispering softly, “Are you okay, Sage?” Her voice was gentle, coaxing.
Sage.
Her name was Sage.
Sage shook her head.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I need to go home.”
Sam glanced at me, then at Castor who appeared behind her like he’d always been there.
Such a dutiful little boyfriend.
“I’ll drive you,” Castor said. Ever the optimist. Like he didn’t know the weight of what had just happened.
I didn’t argue.
When Sage tried to stand, her legs buckled.
And instinct took over within me again.
I caught her before she hit the ground.
Lifted her into my arms like she weighed nothing.
She melted against me as we all made our way back to my car.
By the time we reached her apartment, she was barely conscious.
I carried her inside.
Laid her down on her bed like something precious I wasn’t sure I was meant to touch.
For a moment, her green eyes fluttered open.
She stared up at me, pupils wide, lips parting in a whisper, before she spoke, “You shouldn’t take what isn’t yours.”
A faint smile overtook my lips before sleep claimed her.
I stayed longer than I should have.
Watching her breathe.
Watching the tension fade from her face.
She looked peaceful, but I knew better.
Peace was an illusion.
She was just between storms.
When I finally felt like I had overstayed my welcome, I left.
As soon as I made my way from her door, Castor was waiting outside.
Leaning against the railing, grinning like he’d figured something out before I had.
But I didn’t bother with engaging in whatever was reeling around in his brain. I did what I do best instead—deflected.
“I can’t believe I missed Nerv again,” I muttered.
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Worth it, though, wasn’t it?”
I didn’t answer.
Just kept walking.
But Sage’s green eyes followed me long after I left, and something told me they always would.