Chapter 48 REICH
REICH
My heart waged war against my head. A ceaseless, merciless battle that tore me apart from the inside out.
Every breath I took was another skirmish, every second another wound, my soul stripped away piece by piece in an endless, unwinnable struggle.
My mind clung to logic.
To reason. To duty. To the ENA. To the cold, ruthless practicality that had governed my life for as long as I could remember.
The work. The mission. The cause.
All of it had been my tether. My reason for existing. My justification for every fucked up thing I’d done along the way.
But my heart?
My heart only wanted to fight for her.
I couldn’t let Sage become an obstacle.
I told myself that over and over, as if repetition alone would make it true.
As if I could rewire myself to believe that the right choice was the one, I wasn’t used to making.
But it wasn’t working.
Not anymore.
Because before her, I had made mistakes—small, fatal errors that still haunted me in the quiet moments when I couldn’t run fast enough from the ghosts.
And now?
Now, every breath I took without her close felt like a mistake in itself.
Every decision that didn’t end with her safe, with her breathing, with her here, felt like another weight dragging me further under.
I couldn’t silence the part of me that saw her not as a distraction—but as a necessity.
Because that’s what she was.
Essential. The only thing that made sense anymore.
For so long, I had carried hollowness inside me, convinced that emptiness was my natural state.
That the void was an immutable part of who I was.
A truth I didn’t need to fight anymore because it was easier to believe I was built for nothingness.
I had accepted it.
Resigned myself to the cold comfort of silence. Of solitude. Of indifference.
And then she walked into my life. Like a reckoning.
My wildflower.
But there was nothing fragile about her.
She had been scorched. Burned down to the bone.
Thrown through the kind of fire that strips you bare.
But she hadn’t let it consume her.
She hadn’t let it harden her into something bitter and twisted like the rest of us.
She fought.
Not for vengeance. Not for destruction.
But for understanding. For connection.
Even as she hid the wounds that festered beneath the surface, even as she wore masks so no one would see the pain she still carried.
She was miraculous.
And she had a power over me that I couldn’t explain.
Not to myself. Not to anyone.
She slipped into the fractures of my soul, filling them with something I thought I’d lost long ago.
She made me feel whole in ways I didn’t think possible. She filled every empty, broken part of me until I wasn’t sure where I ended, and she began. And I knew, with brutal, gut-wrenching certainty, that when she left—when I made her leave—she would take every last piece of me with her.
Because she had to go.
And if she didn’t, I would have to be the one to walk away.
Even if it meant tearing myself apart in the process.
I didn’t want to let her go. I didn’t want to leave.
I wanted to be selfish. To keep her. To burn down the world if it meant holding onto her for just a little longer.
But I didn’t know how to keep her safe.
And one small mistake could be the difference between her life and her death.
We’d been lucky this last time.
Dumb, reckless luck.
And I wasn’t about to risk it happening again.
Not with her.
Not with the woman who had already paid in blood for my failures.
If it came down to it, I would go to the ENA.
I’d pay whatever price they demanded. I’d bleed. I’d burn. I’d break myself into nothing if it meant ensuring her future. Because she deserved that. She deserved a life untouched by the chaos I carried inside me. By the darkness I’d let them carve into me.
I wanted her to shine and I would do everything in my power to make sure she did.
Even if it meant stepping back into the shadows where I belonged. Even if it meant being the monster she’d have to forget. Because she had already suffered enough for multiple lifetimes.
And I would not let her endure any more in this one.
She deserved everything. And I knew I could never give it to her.
But it didn’t stop me from wondering—how the fuck was I supposed to walk away from her?
When I loved her and knew with every agonizing certainty that this would break her.
The same way it was already breaking me.
***
That evening, Keenan stopped by. He was the one person who might understand. The only one who could stand in this emotional upheaval with me and not flinch.
After everything he’d been through—everything he’d lost—there was a part of me that thought maybe he’d already figured out the answers I was still searching for.
It had been a while since we last talked. Really talked—without a crisis looming or a rescue plan on the table.
Longer than I’d thought, if I’m honest.
Time has this way of stretching thin between us, like an old scar you forget about until it starts aching again.
Last I heard, Keenan and Nael were working a trade to get Blythe back.
But the ENA didn’t deal in mercy.
They didn’t do trades.
If you wanted something from them, you didn’t offer leverage.
You offered certainty.
A currency so undeniable they couldn’t ignore it and even then, no one really ever made it out once they were under ENA control.
But Keenan refused to accept that.
Six months.
That’s how long it had been since they took her.
And I could see it wearing on him now.
The weight behind his eyes. The exhaustion stitched into the corners of his mouth when he thought no one was looking. But he was still here. Still fighting.
And I didn’t know if I should respect him or pity him for it.
Maybe both.
But I know that if Blythe had been Sage, I would’ve done the same thing.
“How are things?” I asked as we sat on the back deck, watching the dusk bleed into night.
Keenan leaned back in the lounge chair, fingers absently peeling at the label of his beer. The silence stretched between us, heavy. Thick with things neither of us wanted to say out loud.
Finally, he sighed, “I don’t know.” His voice was low. Tired. Stripped of the bravado I usually associated with him. Then, with a bitter, self-deprecating smirk, he added, “But I’d be hopeless if I was someone who gave up. So, thank God I don’t ever stop trying.”
I offered him a half-smile, letting the silence settle for another few breaths before speaking, “Keenan. Thank you—for everything with Sage.”
I met his gaze, meaning every word, before continuing, “If there’s anything I can do for Blythe… you say the word.”
He lifted a hand, shaking his head as he stared down at his boots, “Thank you, Reich. But no.” His voice was flat. Final. “You focus on your girl. If I need you, I’ll come to you. But you don’t want to get involved in what Nael and I are doing.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
His jaw worked, muscle ticking in his cheek, “You don’t want to get involved,” he repeated. “This is high risk. Nael and I… we’ve got nothing left to lose. You’ve got your brother. Your girl.”
I stared at him, the words twisting in my gut, “You still have Blythe. You still have all of us.”
He scoffed, shaking his head like I was missing the point, “I’m trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection, Keenan,” I snapped. “You know damn well I can handle myself.”
He met my eyes. “I never said you couldn’t.” His voice was calm. Measured. But there was something in it—something I didn’t trust.
We fell silent again.
Old history hanging between us like smoke.
Heavy. Choking.
We had always gotten into shit together.
Always.
Since we were kids. Since the nights we drank cheap whiskey and planned the kind of future that was never going to exist for guys like us. We had bled together. Fought side by side.
So why the fuck was this different?
Keenan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His voice dropped low. “Nael and I found a way out.”
My stomach sank. “A way out of what?”
He held my gaze. Unblinking. “We found a way out of the ENA.”
For a second, I said nothing. Then I laughed. A dry, humorless sound that felt foreign in my throat. “You haven’t been able to get Blythe out for six months. But now, somehow, you’ve found a way to do the impossible?”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. “It’s all or nothing,” Keenan said. “We can’t get her out unless we get everyone out.”
A cold knot twisted in my gut. “Okay,” I said carefully. “And how exactly do you plan on getting us all out?”
He exhaled slowly. His expression darkened. And when he spoke again, there was something in his voice I’d never heard before.
Something dangerous.
Something final.
“It involves treason.”