Chapter 13 SAGE #2
A deep, hollow sadness settling in my chest as I reached out with shaking fingers and touched a single petal.
Soft. Velvety. Alive.
But not for long.
No matter how delicate. No matter how perfect.
They would wilt and fade, withering into nothing.
Just like everything else.
Just like me.
And that was when it clicked.
The flowers.
I knew where they were from. I had seen them before. Felt them under my fingers and breathed them in.
Reich’s field.
My breath caught in my throat, sharp and sudden, as if someone had jammed a fist into my ribcage.
Panic clawed its way up, tight and choking, coiling like barbed wire around my lungs.
I scanned the apartment again, this time seeing the arrangement for what it was.
A message.
I ran my hands through my hair, the uncertainty setting deeper.
How had he gotten in?
I had no spare keys.
No broken windows.
No open doors.
There was no sign of a break-in.
Nothing out of place—except everything somehow was.
And why?
Why would he do this?
He didn’t care.
That’s what he told me.
What he made sure I believed.
But these flowers…they seemed to tell a different story.
Or maybe they didn’t.
Maybe they were just another kind of warning.
A thousand questions crashed through me, splintering into pieces too sharp to hold.
I couldn’t stay here.
I couldn’t breathe.
I needed answers.
Or maybe I just needed to know if I was losing my mind.
So, I got dressed and I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.
I just ran back to the field.
The second my feet hit the dirt path, I felt it.
That twisting sense of inevitability.
Like I’d stepped into a current I couldn’t fight, and it was about to pull me somewhere dark.
By the time I reached the field, my chest was heaving.
Sweat beaded at my hairline and my pulse thudded hard against the base of my throat.
And then—I stopped.
The field.
The one that had once been alive.
Lush.
Untamed.
It was gone.
What was left was ruin.
The flowers had been ripped from the earth.
Uprooted and destroyed.
The soil churned into something raw and exposed.
A wound carved deep into the land itself.
Broken stems and crushed petals lay scattered like corpses across the dirt.
Forgotten and discarded.
Their bright colors faded to bruises in the dying light.
I swallowed hard, my breath came in shallow gasps, and I couldn’t make them slow. Couldn’t make myself move.
This wasn’t just a field anymore.
It was a marker.
A grave with a message carved into the earth itself.
He was stripping it away.
Like he was slowly stripping me away.
Layer by layer.
Until there was nothing left.
The sun bled out as I stood there, streaking the sky in deep reds and purples.
Everything was silent.
Too silent.
The kind of stillness that made your skin crawl.
And then there it was— “Wildflower.” His voice cut through the quiet like a knife, sharp and intimate, sliding under my skin.
I froze, as a shiver crawled up my spine.
I turned slowly to see him there.
Reich.
Standing in the ruins.
His dark gaze held mine, unforgiving, like he could see every thought I didn’t want him to.
“Were the flowers I gave you not enough?” His voice was soft.
A taunting whisper.
Like we shared something private and dangerous.
I exhaled, but it shuddered on the way out. “Why did you do it? Ruin your field?”
His smirk deepened, slow and deliberate, and something cold unfurled in my stomach. “My field is fine. The flowers were just a departing gift—for staying off my property.”
A beat of silence.
Then his head tilted, like a predator curious about its prey, “But did you stay away?”
His voice was a hook, sharp and gleaming.
My stomach dropped.
I didn’t and he knew it.
We both did.
He stepped forward, slow, measured.
His presence loomed over me, heavier with every inch he closed.
I told myself that I wanted to move but I didn’t.
I let him lean in, close enough for his breath to ghost over my skin.
It was warm and comforting but something about his voice made me shiver. “Exactly.”
The word was a verdict.
And I had already been sentenced.
His thumb brushed across my lower lip, slow and possessive.
A silent challenge.
His breath fanned across my skin, stirring something reckless inside me.
Something I hated and yet, still wanted.
“You’re dangerous,” I whispered. It slipped out before I could stop it.
His smirk was slow, knowing. “And yet, you’re still here.”
Then his hand closed around my throat.
Firm.
Measured.
Not enough to hurt.
But enough to remind me who was in control.
His lips grazed my ear, his voice rough and low, “You don’t like to listen, do you?”
My body betrayed me as I arched toward him—just slightly.
But it was enough to make me hate myself for it and want more.
His fingers trailed down my spine, leaving fire in their wake. “You act like you don’t want this,” he murmured, dark amusement curling in his tone. “But you keep coming back.”
A tremor rolled through me as I spoke, voice barely steady.
“Maybe I’m just bad at staying away.”
His smile widened. “Or maybe you don’t want to,” he said, teasing, as his hand trailed down toward my fingertips.
The soft brush of his skin sent shivers spiraling through me, heat pooling low between my thighs—thick and aching with something I didn’t want to name.
I tried to pull away. He only pulled me closer, his grip tightening with intent.
“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, smirking, amusement curling at the corners of his mouth.
“You’re an ass, Reich.” The words were flimsy armor—thin but necessary.
I needed something to hold onto. Something to keep me from closing the space between us.
He saw it. He felt it. And he fed on it.
Then his voice dropped, low and sharp. “Do us both a favor and run. We both know you’re relatively good at that.”
He released me without warning.
I froze as his words sliced clean through me, leaving something hollow in their wake. His gaze flicked down to the ruined patch of earth between us, like it held the damage neither of us dared name.
The torn flowers.
The broken nothingness that remained from the night prior.
“There’s nothing here for you anymore.” He finished.
The truth behind it hit harder than any physical blow.
I swallowed, my throat tight, raw.
I glanced at the barren ground and then back at him.
His expression was hollow.
Empty.
Like the field.
And like me.
But he was right.
There was nothing left here.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run or if I wanted to stay long enough to see what else he could destroy.
Even if it was me.
But something whispered inside that he wouldn’t. No matter how much I may have wanted him to.
So, I turned and slowly made my way back, leaving him standing in the field behind me.