Chapter 23 SAGE
SAGE
Ijolted awake again. My heart pounded, frantic and hollow, as though it were trying to escape the cage of my ribs. Cold sweat beaded at my temple, dampening the strands of hair clinging to my skin. My breaths came in shallow gasps, each one stinging my lungs like I’d just surfaced from deep waters.
The moonlight poured in through the window and I blinked hard, struggling to slow my breathing, grounding myself in the reality of where I was.
But this wasn’t safety.
This wasn’t peace.
I wasn’t home.
I stared at the ceiling, the ache in my chest building as the memories clawed their way back up, relentless and cruel. Klay’s voice echoed in the hollow space of my skull, a brutal soundtrack on repeat.
“Pathetic.”
“You did this to yourself.”
“You’re nothing but a whore.”
Each word reopened wounds I thought had already scarred over. But it seemed there was no end to how deep he could cut me, even when he wasn’t here to do it himself.
Each time I woke, I found a moment—a heartbeat—of relief. The disoriented belief that I was free of it all. That I had escaped the hell I’d lived through. But as the fog cleared, the reality settled like lead in my bones.
I was still trapped.
Maybe not by Klay this time.
But by Reich.
By something just as dark. Just as impossible to escape.
I pushed myself up slowly, wincing as the soreness in my shoulders and ribs flared hot and sharp. Swallowing thickly, I forced my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, grounding myself in the task of moving and breathing.
It was all I could do.
I drifted to the bookshelf, fingers trailing along the worn spines of novels I’d once loved. I wanted them to save me again. To pull me out of this place and into another world, one where I wasn’t owned by anyone.
But the words blurred on the pages. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t outrun the question that had burned in the back of my mind since the moment Reich took me.
What was this job he said we had?
The way he’d said it—it was cold. Detached. Like it was inevitable.
What was he going to do with me?
What was I supposed to do for him?
And why did a part of me still wonder if I was safer here than anywhere else?
That was the darkest part of all.
The door creaked open.
I froze, spine snapping straight as my breath hitched. My pulse pounded against the inside of my throat, wild and fast.
Heavy footsteps crossed the threshold. Measured. Unhurried.
Reich.
He filled the space like gravity itself, dragging my gaze to him whether I wanted it or not. The dim light caught the sharp edges of his face, painting shadows beneath his cheekbones. His hazel eyes glowed faintly, cutting through the gloom.
In one hand, he carried a basic white ceramic plate—filled with breakfast foods. In the other, a glass of orange juice. Beads of condensation clung to the glass, a slow drip of water tracing its path toward his fingers.
He crossed the room without a word, setting both down on the dresser. His movements were fluid. Controlled. As if this was just another ordinary morning.
"Breakfast," he said simply. His voice low and disarming.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t trust it.
I didn’t trust him.
I kept my eyes on the floor, on the empty space between us. But the tension coiled tighter anyway, until it was suffocating.
"I’m not hungry," I said, forcing my voice to stay flat, even as it rasped in my dry throat.
"You need to eat." His tone didn’t shift. It was a statement of fact. A quiet expectation. But under it, there was something else. Something that stirred the air between us and made my skin prickle.
I lifted my gaze, searching his face for a reason.
"Why am I here?" I asked.
The silence that followed wasn’t unexpected. It was the same answer I always got.
Nothing.
But I still felt the sting.
I stood anyway. My legs wobbled, but I didn’t care. I crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps until I stood in front of him, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
"How long will I be here?" I demanded. "Can you at least tell me that?"
Again, silence.
A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he said nothing.
I scoffed. Shook my head like it might shake him loose. I turned away, ready to retreat to the only corner of this room that felt like mine.
But he grabbed me.
His hand was a steel band around my arm, spinning me back toward him so fast my balance faltered. His other hand caught my waist, steadying me. Holding me.
His breath ghosted against my cheek as he leaned in. His voice a low murmur. “Stop asking questions you know I won’t answer.”
I glared up at him, anger burning fresh. “Why not?”
His lips curved—not quite a smile. “Because you won’t like the answers.”
He let me go, his hand dragging down my arm in a slow, lingering slide before he stepped back. His gaze flicked toward the plate. “Since you’re so curious, Sage, let’s make a deal.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
Still, I asked. “What kind of deal?”
“You answer my questions. Honestly.”
“And if I don’t?”
The smirk that curled at the edge of his mouth was wicked. Dark. “I’ll know.”
My stomach twisted. “And what do I get?”
“You get to ask your own.”
“You won’t answer them,” I accused.
“I will,” he said, eyeing the plate of food again. “But only if you eat.”
I stared at him, suspicion rising like bile. “Why do you care if I eat?”
His eyes darkened. “Sage,” he warned. Quiet. Lethal. “I don’t want to deal with digging a grave for someone I didn’t kill.”
My blood ran cold.
“I promised not to hurt you,” he continued, his tone measured, almost gentle. “But that promise comes with conditions. So, start eating before I make you regret not doing it yourself.”
There was something final about the way he said it. Something that told me he wasn’t bluffing.
I hesitated a second too long.
He took a step forward.
I grabbed the toast. Shoved a bite into my mouth.
His expression softened—just barely. His lips curved. Slow. Satisfied.
“Good girl.”
The words made me shiver. I hated that they made my stomach twist in that familiar, treacherous way.
I chewed mechanically, forcing the food down. Reich watched me the entire time, like a wolf watching his prey, amused by its compliance.
After a few moments, he spoke again. “How did you end up in Providence?”
I swallowed. “I drove.”
He arched a brow. “Why?”
“I left home.”
“Why?”
I sighed, closing my eyes. “I lost everything.”
He was silent a beat. “Everything?”
“My father. My house. My... life.”
“And?” he pressed; voice softer now.
I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want him to know.
But I was already unraveling.
“My ex.”
His expression darkened.
“Tell me about him.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Don’t lie to me.” His voice snapped around me, dragging the truth out like a splinter beneath my skin. I shook my head, blinking fast, but the tears came anyway.
Memories swelled, crushing me. Klay’s voice in my ear. The pain. The shame.
I broke.
The sob tore free of my throat before I could stop it.
And then Reich was there.
His arms wrapped around me, lifting me like I weighed nothing. He carried me back to the bed and sat me down with a gentleness I didn’t expect. His hand brushed over my hair, down my spine, soothing in a way that made it hurt worse.
“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured.
I hated him for saying it.
Hated myself for listening.
For leaning into him.
For letting him hold me like he might put the pieces back together if he just held tight enough.
“You need to stop letting this own you,” he said.
I wanted to scream at him. You don’t know. You don’t understand.
But instead, I sat there. Silent.
Finally, he sighed. “You can answer my questions later.” He stood, walking to the door.
My voice cracked as it left me. “Can I ask one?”
He turned. His face unreadable. “A deal’s a deal.”
I hesitated. “Until I answer yours... I won’t get mine.”
“Correct.”
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut. I stared at the empty space where he’d stood.
And realized—I wasn’t sure if I hated him.
Or if I hated the way he was the first person to ever see me like this.