Chapter 38 REICH
REICH
After Castor told me everything about what had happened with Sam, I knew how to proceed.
There was no other way.
Letting Sam see Sage wasn’t just a concession—it was a necessity.
For Sage, it was about survival.
For me, it was about control.
Sage needed an anchor after the emotional wreckage this week had left her in. A familiar face. Something pure in a world that had shown her nothing but cruelty. And I…I needed to keep Sam close now that she knew.
Because Sam wasn’t just a friend.
She was a threat.
Castor didn’t understand that part.
Or maybe he did, and he just couldn’t bear to think it.
But I could.
And I did.
Because someone had to.
I sat back in my chair, letting Castor spiral in his endless orbit of worry while Sam and Sage talked behind the closed door of the sunroom.
His pacing was restless, his steps sharp and unyielding on the hardwood.
I could feel the tension radiating off him, thick and wild, like a storm caught inside a man’s body with nowhere to go.
“Reich, what the fuck are we supposed to do?” His voice was tight, frayed at the edges.
I let out a slow breath, pressing my fingers into my temples. “We figure it out later,” I said, calm despite the violence twisting inside me. “When we have more information.”
It wasn’t enough.
Not for Castor.
He ran his hand through his hair for what had to be the twentieth time, his jaw clenched so tight I half-expected his teeth to crack.
It wasn’t just Sam he was worried about.
It was them.
The ENA.
Their rules were simple.
Unforgiving. Absolute.
Rule number one: No outsiders stay on the premises.
I had already broken that rule. I’d done it carefully—or at least, I thought I had. But now? Now there was another variable I hadn’t planned for.
Sam.
Rule number two: No outsider could know what we did.
And Sam knew.
It didn’t matter how loyal Castor believed she was.
Even if she swore herself to silence. Even if she carved it into her skin and bled for it.
The ENA wouldn’t care.
They would call her a loose thread.
And loose threads had to be cut.
I wasn’t sure I trusted her the way Cas did.
I wasn’t sure I trusted anyone.
But for now, I had no choice.
I had to let it play out and pray I could keep them all alive long enough to make it mean something.
What worried me more was Sage.
Because it was only a matter of time before Sam told her everything.
If she hadn’t already.
And I needed to be the one to tell her.
Not Sam.
Not Castor.
Me.
But my gut twisted with something sharp and ugly.
Not tonight.
Not yet.
There was still too much to unravel.
Later, Castor and I moved toward the sunroom. The door was cracked open, warm light spilling into the hall. Laughter drifted out—soft, familiar, painfully normal.
Sam and Sage.
Their voices tangled together, light and easy, like the sound of something innocent.
Something that hadn’t existed in this house for years.
I leaned in the doorway and watched.
And all I could think about was how Sage looked.
The way she smiled with Sam, laughing without restraint. The way she tilted her head, her hair falling over her shoulder like she didn’t know the effect it had on me.
The way the light caught in her eyes, softening them, filling them with something close to hope.
For a second, I forgot to breathe.
She glowed.
Not like a woman who had been through hell.
Not like a prisoner in a house ruled by men like Castor and me.
But like someone free.
Someone on the edge of something new.
And it was intoxicating.
“You know what we need to do?” Sam said suddenly, her voice bright, as if the solution was obvious all along. She gestured between the four of us with a grin that felt more dangerous than it should have. “We need to go out.”
Castor chuckled. But his eyes flicked toward me with caution.
He was still waiting for my approval.
They all were.
And then Sage turned her gaze on me.
She wasn’t asking for permission.
But she was waiting.
And in that moment, I felt it.
The undeniable pull.
Like I was the center of her world.
And God help me, I wanted to stay there.
I wanted to give her everything she asked for.
I wanted to tear the world open and hand it to her, bloody and raw, just to see her smile like that again.
For one insane second, I believed I could.
That I could have this.
Her.
Castor leaned in beside me, his smirk casual. But I could hear the edge beneath it. “What do you say, brother?” he asked, voice lazy and slow. “Shall we get these beautiful ladies out of this house and make sure they are properly fed and entertained?”
There was amusement in his tone. But he wasn’t joking.
He was testing me.
Waiting to see if I would do something reckless.
Or if I would remember who the fuck I was.
The others watched me, quiet, expectant.
Like I was the one holding the keys to this entire night.
Maybe I was.
I should have said no.
I should have thought it through.
Taking them out wasn’t just risky.
It was dangerous.
Too many variables. Too many things that could go wrong.
Too many people who might recognize Sage.
Too many eyes watching us that we didn’t see.
But then I looked at her.
And none of that mattered.
She was looking at me like I was more than what I was.
Like I could give her this one small thing.
And fuck me—I wanted to.
Her quiet anticipation was like a live wire, vibrating in the space between us.
And when she smiled— I was done for.
Her smile was a crack in the armor I’d spent my entire life forging.
A chisel against stone, soft and patient, breaking me down piece by piece.
And all I could do was let it happen.
“Fine,” I muttered, the word tasting like surrender.
The light in her face when I said it—it gutted me.
Because I wanted to be the man who could give her that joy without conditions all the time.
And I wasn’t sure I could.
But tonight, I would try.
She rose from the couch, moving toward me like she was tethered to me. And when her fingers curled around my arm, grounding me with that quiet, unspoken certainty she always carried— I couldn’t breathe.
Her touch wasn’t possessive.
It wasn’t about control.
It was about something I couldn’t quite name.
Her eyes met mine.
And for a moment—Nothing else existed.
A night out with Sage.
It sounded like heaven.
It felt like freedom.
And for the first time in a long, long while—I wanted to believe that it wouldn’t be too big of a risk.
Even if I knew better.
Even if I knew what was waiting for us when we got back.
For one night, I’d let myself forget.
For one night, I’d let myself have this.
Her.
And maybe…maybe it wouldn’t destroy us.