Chapter 29 SAGE
SAGE
“You wanted to see me?” Castor’s voice carried a note of curiosity as he peered through the doorway, stepping inside and closing it gently behind him.
The faint click of the lock sliding back into place felt louder than it should have.
It echoed in the space between us, reminding me that—no matter how polite he seemed—I was still a prisoner.
I studied him carefully, watching the way his hand lingered on the doorframe before he let it fall to his side. Searching his face for a crack in his armor. Something human. Something I could reach.
There was a softness in his eyes. I didn’t know if it was real or something he’d learned to weaponize, but I was desperate enough to hope it was real. Desperate enough to believe I might get through to him—far more easily than I ever could with Reich.
And if there was ever a chance, this was it.
I drew a breath and steadied my voice. “First, I want to know why I’m here.”
Castor didn’t answer right away. He took a slow, measured breath and exhaled through his nose, like he was bracing himself for something he didn’t want to say. Or maybe he was preparing to say nothing at all.
“Sage,” he said at last, “I can’t tell you that.”
I wasn’t surprised.
But I was tired of running in circles.
Tired of being treated like I couldn’t handle the truth.
Frustration prickled under my skin, but I kept it tightly leashed. Exploding wouldn’t get me anywhere. It hadn’t worked on Reich.
And Castor was different.
More thoughtful.
Or maybe just better at pretending.
I let my gaze drift to the floorboards between us for a moment, collecting myself before I looked back up at him.
“What can you tell me then, kidnapper?”
I kept my voice steady, though it was tinged with something closer to desperation than I wanted to admit.
Castor sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face, dragging it down like the weight of this entire conversation was grinding him down. He paced the room, boots heavy against the wood floor, each step deliberate but aimless—like he needed to move but didn’t know where to go.
I watched him. I noticed the way his shoulders slumped a little, the way he hesitated at every turn. I could see why Sam was drawn to him. He was magnetic in a wounded way—the kind of person who felt everything deeply but wore it like a joke so no one ever noticed.
Finally, he stopped in front of the small table by the window and leaned his hands on the surface. His gaze met mine, and for a split second, I saw it.
Hesitation.
And maybe something close to guilt.
“I can tell you” He said quietly, “that you need to answer my brother’s questions. Sooner rather than later.”
His tone was soft but urgent, the kind of warning you didn’t want to ignore.
I stilled. “Why?”
The word was sharp. A challenge.
Castor’s expression didn’t change. “Because once you do, we can explain everything. We can keep you safe.”
The word hit me wrong.
Safe.
I almost laughed.
Instead, I took a slow step forward, arms crossed tight over my ribs. “Safe?” I echoed, disbelief coloring my voice. “Safe from who?”
His fingers flexed against the table. I could tell he was holding back—something dangerous or something painful.
“I can’t tell you that,” he said.
It was always the same wall.
The same silence.
Frustration surged through me, coiling tight in my chest.
“Well… it didn’t work because I don’t feel safe here,” I snapped, the words tearing out of me sharper than I intended.
But I didn’t take them back.
Castor’s head lifted sharply. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment—just a moment—something raw flickered behind them. Not anger.
Something closer to regret.
“You are, Sage.”
And for the first time since we met, there was no hesitation in his voice, “You’re safer here than anywhere else.”
I wanted to believe him.
But belief was dangerous.
And trust was dangerous.
I learned that lesson before.
I turned away slightly, folding my arms tighter around myself—a small act of defiance, but it was all I had left.
“I don’t trust you,” I said quietly.
He nodded once, like he understood.
But he wasn’t done trying to convince me.
“If nothing else,” Castor said, his voice softer, “trust that I love Sam more than anything in this world. And she’d never forgive me if I let something happen to you.” He paused, then added, “Because you’re her best friend. And she cares about you.”
The words struck harder than I expected.
Best friend.
They weren’t new words. But hearing them… they hit differently now.
Sam.
The one person who always made the world lighter. Who never let me drown, even when I wanted to. She’d seen me when I couldn’t even see myself.
My throat tightened.
And I hated the sting in my eyes.
I stared down at my hands, forcing myself to stay still. “And you think she’ll forgive you for drugging me? For kidnapping me?”
Castor flinched. It was slight, but it was there.
For once, he didn’t have a comeback.
He just stood there, hands curling into fists at his sides, his expression unreadable.
“Reich is tough,” he said finally, his voice heavier now. “I know. He’s… complicated. But he’s trying to keep you out of harm’s way. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think that was true.”
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to rip the truth out of him.
But instead… I breathed.
And I made a choice.
“It was the day of my father’s funeral—” I said quietly.
The words were fragile. I almost couldn’t believe I’d spoken them aloud.
But Castor froze.
His entire body stilled.
And slowly, carefully, he moved toward the bed and lowered himself to sit on the edge. Not too close. Just close enough to hear and at the very least pretend he cared.
“—that night, my boyfriend threw a party,” I continued. “I told him I was leaving... We argued… I felt bad... So, I stayed...”
I closed my eyes.
The memory pressed against my ribs like a knife.
“One of his friends brought me a drink.”
I drew a slow breath.
“And then I woke up in hell.”
Castor didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.
But the way his jaw tightened… the way his hand clenched against his thigh… he knew.
He already knew how the story ended.
But I finished it anyway.
“I was on the ground. Naked. Surrounded by these men.” My voice wavered, but I forced it out. “They wouldn’t let me go.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I could barely breathe.
Castor’s knuckles were white now. His mouth was a hard line.
“How did you escape?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
“I waited,” I whispered. “I pretended to be unconscious. Let the drugs wear off. If they knew I was awake… they would’ve given me more.” I swallowed hard. “I waited until I had enough strength to run.”
My hands were shaking, I realized as I clenched them into fists in my lap.
Castor moved then. Closer. Not to crowd me—but enough that I could feel his presence anchoring me.
“Castor,” I asked, my voice smaller than I meant it to be. “How many women have been in this room before?”
He hesitated.
But then he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
“You’re the first.”
I blinked.
Shock flooded through me. “Really?”
He nodded once. “Really.”
Something in my stomach twisted.
Tightened.
“To this day,” Castor continued, “I’ve never seen my brother let another woman into his home, how he has decided to let you.”
He gave me a look I couldn’t read, as he continued, “He’s been with women. But he never brought them here—”
I stared at him.
Trying to make sense of it.
“—and as for the holding someone captive part—” He almost smiled. It was faint. “—that’s a first too.”
I huffed a bitter laugh.
But it didn’t make me feel better.
If anything, it made the weight in my chest heavier.
Because deep down, I was starting to believe that if Reich ever knew the truth…
If he ever learned how broken I really was…
He wouldn’t want me anymore.
That thought—more than being trapped in this room, more than everything I’d already survived—that thought for some reason filled me with more shame.
Castor watched me for a long moment.
Then he exhaled, dragging a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Sage. If there was another way, I would’ve convinced him to take it. But there isn’t. This information is more invaluable than you know.”
Invaluable?
I gave him a confused look. A look that said I wanted more answers than what he was offering. So I asked, “How is my trauma ‘invaluable’ to a couple of brothers that decided to kidnap me in a small town 200 miles away?”
He hesitated, then added softly, “That’s really not my place to say and some things have to stay with Reich. Just trust me… this is all to keep you safe.”
I swallowed hard. “You keep saying that and I’m trying to trust you, but it’s hard to trust, especially after everything that has happened.”
He nodded.
Then he took my hands in his—gentle, grounding. “If you can find even the smallest piece of yourself that still knows how to trust,” he murmured, “put it in Reich.”
His voice softened further, “I promise you… he won’t take it for granted.”
And something in his voice made me want to believe him.