CHAPTER 137: Insurrection-6

CHAPTER 137: Insurrection-6

Enid's office had dimmed lighting; the cityscape of Munich filtered through the large window and mingled the shadows on the carpet. Fénix was slumped on the sofa, his shirt stained, his hands still trembling. His gaze was lost somewhere between his knees. Enid entered, closed the door softly, and sat in the armchair facing him. For the first time in days, she set aside the strict armor of the CEO and spoke with the calm of someone sharing a bed.

"Sit up," she said in a low voice, more like a peer than a boss. "I want you to look me in the eyes."

Fénix looked up, his eyes glassy. He didn't seem ready to face the request, but he did it. She placed her hands on her knees and leaned forward slightly, as if shortening an intimate distance.

"Tell me," Enid repeated. "Why have you been so violent? Smashing a trafficker's face, almost killing someone who could give us information… that's not tactics, Fénix. It's…" she paused, searching for the word, "it's letting yourself go. Why?"

The silence stretched the air. Fénix took a deep breath; his shoulders trembled. It wasn't a measured response, but a fracture.

"Since the hell in Berlin…" he began, his voice broken, "I feel… something inside me woke up. It's not just rage. It's like a beast I can no longer silence. Before, I could contain it, control it. Now… now it comes out through my hands, through my fists. And when I see someone like that leader… I can't stop myself."

The words came out rushed; in his eyes, you could see the memory of screams, dust, and bodies. Fénix looked away, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He tried to contain himself, but the accumulated tension exploded: he began to sob, first quietly, then louder. His hands trembled on his thighs, as if sanity was about to slip away.

Enid didn't stay distant. She stood up and, without ceremony, approached. She sat next to him on the sofa and hugged him decisively, like someone who knows a hug doesn't cure, but it holds.

"Shh…" she murmured in his ear. "Easy. I'm here."

Fénix let himself be held. The crying discharged layers of dust, guilt, and weariness. Between sobs, he murmured names that hurt: Anna, Alucard, Marcus. Enid stroked the back of his neck with tenderness and firmness at the same time; her hand brushed his scalp, a repeated gesture of someone trying to put him back together.

"Don't tell me this makes you less," she said, her voice low but firm. "You matter too much for me to judge you now. I'll judge you later, when we're further from this. Right now… right now I need you to be alive."

Fénix tightened the hug fiercely, his voice coming out broken.

"I don't want to be the thing that gave me power," he said. "I don't want that to be all that's left of me. But every time I hold back, I see what we lost. And the fury drags me."

Enid let him cry; when his breathing began to calm, she pulled her face back just enough to look him in the eyes again. Her hands held his face gently, as if offering an anchor.

"Listen to me," she said. "You're not going to carry this alone. Not now. I won't allow it. I'll take care of the witness. I'll isolate him, secure the information, and protect him. And I'll take care of Viktor and Darem. I'll open the paths that need to be opened."

Fénix looked at her, incredulous and still broken. A mix of surprise and relief crossed his face upon hearing those promises. She continued, her voice tempered by the determination that defined her in public and the tenderness she allowed to show in private.

"I'm not asking you to stop feeling. I don't want that. I want you to live so you can settle scores when necessary. I need you whole, not in pieces. I'll handle the heavy operational work now. You take care of yourself. Recover your strength. You're going to put yourself in the hands of those who bring you back to yourself, not the beast."

Fénix, worn out by emotion, let out another sob. Tears cleaned his face. His voice, when it came out, was barely a whisper.

"I don't know if I deserve you taking risks…" he said. "I don't know if I deserve you handling this for me."

Enid shook her head, and her smile, small and bitter, was sincere.

"You don't do it because you deserve it. I do it because I love you. And because if I don't, who will?" She paused. "But let's be clear: I'm not going to protect you from everything. I'm not here to be your automatic redemption. I'll support you, yes; but I'll also demand you work with discipline, accept help, submit to control. No more scenes that push us to the edge of the precipice."

Fénix nodded, his chin still trembling. He hugged her once more, asking for permission to believe.

Enid pressed her hand against Fénix's cheek and closed her eyes for a moment before speaking.

Fénix let himself fall, exhausted, his body still in the embrace. He had broken inside, yes, but he had also found a pause where he could breathe. Enid rested her forehead against his.

Hours earlier...

Night fell over Neuschwanstein, where an elegant charity gala organized by the German political elite was taking place. Golden lights illuminated the white stone walls, and the sound of champagne glasses and classical music filled the air. On the surface, everything seemed an impeccable event, but Marcus knew that behind those smiles and gowns hid something darker.

Marcus adjusted the cuff of his black tuxedo while observing the hall from one of the upper balconies. Beside him, Lucian sipped slowly from a glass, feigning relaxation, while Vanessa tried to blend in among the guests to avoid drawing attention.

"No sign of the traffickers," Lucian murmured quietly, turning the glass between his fingers. "They were supposed to be here, in this damn castle."

"Maybe they already left," Vanessa replied, scanning the room with a sharp gaze. "Or maybe they're here and we don't know in which damn corner they're hiding."