Chapter 49 SAGE
SAGE
Ispoke with Sam earlier that day, finally feeling steady enough to reach out. My hands hadn’t shaken when I texted her. My lungs hadn’t seized when I waited for her reply.
For the first time in days, I wasn’t drowning in my own head. I wasn’t clawing through the dark just to get from one breath to the next.
I was healing. Not perfectly.
But piece by piece. Day by day. Enough to feel something close to hope again.
But I should have known better.
I should have sensed it the moment the energy in the house shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible, like the quiet before a storm tears the sky open. I should have felt it like the ripple in the air before a bomb goes off, but I was too busy convincing myself I was safe.
That we were safe.
But I still should have known.
Hope was fragile.
And fragile things broke when you let yourself believe in them.
The instant Reich appeared in the doorway, I knew something was wrong.
He didn’t have to speak. He didn’t have to move. His body said it all. Arms crossed like a barricade. Shoulders rigid like he was holding the weight of something impossible. Tension radiating off him in waves, thick and suffocating. A warning shot before the real damage landed.
And then he spoke. Took a breath—slow and heavy, the kind you take when you’re about to burn something to the ground, knowing there’s no coming back from it.
"I think it’s time for you to go home."
One sentence.
Simple.
But they landed like a bullet straight through the hollow in my chest.
His voice was flat. No warmth. No hesitation. Just a death sentence dressed up in casual cruelty.
The words hung there, twisting in the space between us, until they barely sounded real.
But my body registered them before my mind could catch up.
My stomach twisted violently, nausea coiling in my gut like sickness blooming from the inside out.
Home?
He was my home.
How the hell was I supposed to go anywhere when he was here?
I wanted to move. To step toward him. To demand an explanation. But I was frozen.
Trapped beneath the crushing weight of his betrayal.
"No." The word tore free before I realized I was speaking.
A breathless denial.
Desperate and disbelieving.
I shook my head, slow at first, then faster, as if motion alone could erase the moment. "You can’t just push me away. Reich."
Reich dragged a hand through his hair, pacing like a man at war with himself.
Like someone who’d already lost. "My carelessness led to this—twice now," he ground out. His voice was rough. Strained. "If it happens again…" He trailed off, his breath hitching before he forced the rest of it out. "I won’t let it happen again. That’s why you need to leave."
"So that’s it?" The words cracked in my throat, hollow and small. "You’re just throwing me away?"
He said nothing and that silence was worse than any answer he could’ve given me.
Fury surged, wild and hot but that heartbreak bled through it, turning everything jagged and raw.
I surged forward, shoving him.
Slamming my fists against his chest like I could break through the wall he was building between us.
"Say something!" I demanded, voice splintering. "Feel something! Anything!"
He absorbed every hit. Every broken plea.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t break.
Only I did.
"Tell me it wasn’t real," I begged. The words scraped against my throat, painful, "Tell me. So, I can walk away."
His hands clenched at his sides. His breath came too fast, too shallow. He was unraveling.
And still, I was sure he wouldn’t say it. Wouldn’t give me the lie I needed to let go.
"Sage—"
"Tell me!" I choked. "Say it didn’t matter! That I didn’t matter!"
And then— A whisper. Wrecked and raw came from his lips, "I can’t."
The words shattered me. My knees buckled. Tears burned hot trails down my face, blurring everything until he was just a smear of color in front of me.
"You know what?" My voice broke open like a wound. "Fuck you, Reich." It came out like a sob. A battle cry. "Fuck you for putting me back together just to break me all over again."
His walls trembled and I saw it: The fracture in his mask he wore so pristinely.
But it wasn’t enough.
They didn’t fall and neither did he.
"I’m practically Hell’s gatekeeper," he said hoarsely. "One day, I won’t come back. I’ll be dragged under. Six feet down. And you’ll be left wondering if you were the reason." His voice cracked, deep and hollow. "Or worse, you’ll end up right there with me."
He lifted his eyes to mine, and for the first time, I saw it—the rawness. The fear. The man behind the monster.
"Is that the life you want?" he asked. "A life of worry and fear?"
"Yes." I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t flinch.
His head snapped up at the word, something breaking behind his gaze.
"Yes," I said again, louder this time. "If it means a life with you, then yes. I accept."
"Sage…" His voice was thick. Choked.
I reached for him. Grasped his hand like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.
“I don’t want a life without you," I whispered. "Even a long, safe life wouldn’t be worth it. I’d rather have a short, beautiful one—even if it’s filled with pain and fear."
I took a shaky breath, steadying myself as I held his gaze. "The only reason people fear losing something is because it means they had something worth keeping. If I don’t have something worth losing… what’s the point of any of it?"
Silence fell again. Thick. Crushing.
But this time, it wasn’t empty.
It was heavy with truth. My truth.
"Life is suffering," I whispered. "It’s inevitable. But I’d rather suffer for something that matters than exist everyday in something filled with emptiness." I smiled through the tears, through the ache. "If I’m your wildflower… then that makes you the light. How can I survive without it?"
Reich inhaled sharply. His fingers twitched, reaching for me. Before they hesitated. Before he clenched his fist again, fighting the very thing he wanted.
And that’s when I knew. Nothing was going to change.
Even as he pulled me into his arms, the embrace felt hollow.
Not a promise. An apology.
I shoved away from him, the weight of it all collapsing over me. My knees hit the floor.
The sound of bone on hardwood cracked through the room, but I barely felt it. Sobs racked my body, raw and ugly.
I had given him everything.
Every fractured, vulnerable piece of myself.
And he had put me back together.
Only to destroy me all over again.
Why did he have to be everything?
Why did he have to make me whole just to tear me apart?
When our eyes met, I swore I saw forever in them.
But forever wasn’t real. Was it?
Maybe this was reckless. Maybe it was madness. But I had to do something.
So, I stood. Wiped my face with trembling hands and walked away—out of the room, down the hall.
He didn’t follow.
Of course he didn’t. He wanted me gone. Needed me gone.
But I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.
My fingers curled around an object I had found in the basement a week ago.
Its weight was solid. Cold.
I had no idea what I was going to do.
No plan. No strategy. Only this burning ache that refused to die.
But one thing was certain—this wasn’t over.
Not even close.