Chapter 51 SAGE
SAGE
Ishould have walked away.
I told myself that probably a thousand times those last few days. Maybe more. Every breath I took in his presence had felt like a warning.
He was waiting to bolt. I could feel it.
I should have gotten myself out before it got this far—before his name carved into my memory like it had always belonged there. Before his hands knew the shape of me, the pulse of me, better than I did.
But it was already too late.
Reich was a storm I had no desire to escape. A wildfire I was willing to burn in. His chaos had become my sanctuary. And his darkness, a place I wanted to crawl inside of and never leave.
No matter how many times I reminded myself that this was dangerous, that we were dangerous together, I kept coming back. Kept choosing him.
Because the truth was, I didn’t want to stop.
Even if it destroyed us. Even if it destroyed me.
I sucked in a shaky breath, my pulse hammering at my throat as I stepped closer. Every inch between us crackled, thick with tension, charged with everything we wouldn’t say.
Couldn’t say.
I felt the heat radiating from his skin, tasted the weight of the unspoken words hanging between us like smoke that refused to clear.
His jaw was tight, and his hands curled into fists at his sides like he was holding himself together by sheer will. But I could see the tremble in his fingers, the strain in his shoulders as he held me close.
He was breaking.
And so was I.
“You make me insane,” I breathed, as my palms fisted against the hard wall of his chest.
I was torn between escape and surrender.
And I feared either would be the end of me.
In a single, fluid motion, he caught my wrists—unyielding, but never unkind. Strength cloaked in softness, like steel beneath silk.
“And you,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine, “you make me sane.”
His voice was low and rough.
I exhaled a shaky breath, my forehead falling to rest against his. “I don’t know how to stop this… I just know I can’t leave.” I said, the words splintering in the space between us.
The confession was raw. Honest. Terrifying.
He let out a sharp breath, his hands sliding to my waist, his grip possessive as he pulled me flush against him. Like he already knew the answer. “Then don’t.”
I closed my eyes, pressing my hands flat against his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart under my palms. “This isn’t going to work,” I whispered, a tremor riding the edge of my voice.
Reich’s expression was unreadable, but his body betrayed him. His fists clenched. His chest rose and fell faster than he wanted to show.
“You think I don’t know that?” he muttered, his jaw working as he forced the words out. “You think I don’t fucking know?”
My throat tightened. “Then why are we still here?” The question was a plea. A demand.
An accusation.
His gaze locked on mine, burning.
Dark. Devastated.
“Because no matter how much it destroys us, I don’t know if I can actually let you go. I don’t know if I can let go of a life with you. A normal one. But I know one day I’ll have to.”
And then his mouth was on mine.
Fierce. Unrelenting. Desperate.
Fire and frustration, fury and grief. It wasn’t a kiss—it was a collision. It was every word we couldn’t speak. Every fear we couldn’t silence. It was everything we had fought against crashing down around us.
One second, we were arguing.
The next, we were falling. Together.
His hands were on my body like he was memorizing me—committing every line, every scar, every bruise and hollow place to memory. As if he could anchor himself in my skin. As if he could stay there forever.
And I let him.
My fingers dug into his arms, clinging to him like he was the last steady thing in a world that wouldn’t stop tilting.
“We can still make it our own in some way. We don’t need those things to have a life together…Please…I can’t lose you,” I choked against his lips. “Reich, I can’t—”
He stilled. Just for a second. Then his forehead pressed hard against mine, his breath ragged.
“You won’t lose me” he promised, his voice wrecked. “Because I’ll never leave you. I’d let everything crash and burn before that happened.”
The way he said it— like it was already a foregone conclusion.
Like he’d already marked the targets and counted the bodies.
Like he’d do it, without hesitation.
And God help me, I believed him.
And it shook something loose in me.
Something fragile. Something indestructible.
He pulled back just far enough to see me, his hands trembling as they tightened around my waist.
“Reich…” My voice was low, searching his eyes.
He didn’t answer. Just watched me, silent, like I was something he hadn’t yet decided whether to keep—or cast out again. A trespasser standing on the wrong side of his walls.
I thought of the field, of the words he’d once given me, sharp as prophecy. I drew in a breath.
“You told me someday I’d beg to belong to you.” My gaze caught his, even as he tried to avoid it. “Well… this is me begging.”
A beat passed. Then his shoulders lifted in the smallest shrug.
“If you stayed,” he said at last, his voice iron-clad, stripped of mercy, “there would have to be rules. Precautions. Lines I can’t cross. Things I have to do to keep everyone safe.”
The steel in him wavered then, softened into something raw, breaking against the edges of his restraint.“But even then…” His voice faltered. “Even then, I don’t know if it would be enough.”
I could hear it in his tone—the unbearable strain of needing me and fearing for me in equal measure.
It made my chest ache. Made my heart shatter and rebuild itself at the same time.
His eyes searched mine, wild and desperate, waging a war I couldn’t see.
He looked like he wanted to fight me on this.
But instead—his gaze dropped to my mouth and in one breathless second—he kissed me.
His lips crushed mine, his hands threading through my hair, holding me in place as if letting go was impossible. As if I was the only thing anchoring him to this world.
And I kissed him back with everything I had.
With everything I was.
With every broken piece of myself that only he had ever been able to fit against and make whole.
We moved together like we’d done this in a thousand lives before and maybe we had. Maybe this was the kind of story that had always been written into the stars.
Since our paths had collided, our connection had always been undeniable, a perfect harmony in its chaos.
If we were musicians, we’d compose a haunting duet.
If we were writers, a timeless manuscript.
If we were painters, a soul-stirring masterpiece.
But in this world, I didn’t know what we were.
All I knew was that when we were together, we had the ability to create something raw and unforgettable.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together, our hearts beating in sync.
His hands cradled my face, his thumb tracing slow circles over my cheekbone, grounding me.
“I mean it, Sage,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I need you safe. I can’t do this if I know you’re in danger.”
I swallowed hard. “I know,” I whispered.
And I did.
“You know?” He smiled briefly, “I’ve always wanted a normal life… a home… a family… a dog… but the truth is…” He stopped, as he battled against his words. “I can’t ever promise that. I can’t promise that we won’t always be fighting for our lives.” His voice cracked.
I held him tightly, trying to ground him with my presence and keep his mind from spinning into flight mode.
“I don’t care about any of those things,” I told him, steady and true. “Because I only care that you are with me—that in some way, you're always there.”
His eyes darkened, a storm gathering in their depths.
“Okay,” he said.
He laced his fingers through mine, gripping them tight, his palm warm and solid against mine.
It felt like a vow.
And in that moment, I knew—no matter what came next. No matter the war we were going to have to fight. We were in it together.
And this time, there was no hesitation. No fear. Only certainty—or so I thought.