Chapter Forty-Seven
Asher
After Darius asks his question, Kayden tilts his head toward me.
"I think it's Saint Asher's turn," he says. "Show us what you've got, brother."
I narrow my eyes. He's been avoiding seeing Sage. But I don't comment.
"I'll go next," I agree. "Try to reach her. But my approach takes time and some willingness on her side. It works best when she's exhausted. When the thirst sets in."
A thirsty vampire is desperate. Desperation becomes a crack in the armor. And through that crack, empathy can seep back in.
"I remember I was starving by the time you reached me," Donna says quietly. Her eyes darken at the memory.
Kayden leans back, glancing out the window. "Yeah, well, she drained half the damn garden while you were talking philosophy," he mutters to Darius. "Doesn't seem like she's going to be thirsty anytime soon."
"We wait," I say. "Patience is the only way this works."
"We don't have time," Darius cuts in.
My gaze sharpens. "Explain."
"They'll come for her," he says. "Other satyrs. Even with the secrecy, word will spread. They'll come to finish what they think is their duty."
Kayden gives a humorless laugh. "Then we kill them. You've got the power for that, don't you?"
Darius's tone goes flat. "Yes. But I'd prefer not to go down that path."
"Then let's make sure you don't have to." I glance between them. Keeping the truce between these two is a full-time job. "We fortify. Keep the perimeter tight."
"I'll handle that," Astrid says, rising from the armchair where she'd been pretending to read one of Winston's books. "Need to stretch my legs anyway."
I nod, then look at Jace. He exhales, long and heavy.
"I've got to get back to the bar," he says. "But I'll have the pack keep watch. Eyes only. They won't engage. I'm not losing anyone else. Not even for Sage."
I catch the shift in Kayden's posture, the start of a retort, and step in before it lands.
"Thank you, Jace. Surveillance is more than enough. You've done plenty already."
He holds my gaze for a beat longer than necessary, like there's something unsaid there. Then he nods and leaves with Astrid.
Jace looks older. Loss does that—it burns years into you.
"I can watch the perimeter too," Tomas says from his corner.
I shake my head. "Not yet. I want you here. Both of you." I glance at Donna. "You've lived through what it's like to fight yourself. Sage will need that."
Tomas nods once and settles back into his chair, no argument.
"Of course," Donna says softly. "Whatever you need. It's… difficult, that kind of war. I don't know if it's better or worse that you're the one close to her. When I turned, I didn't know you. I couldn't hurt you the way she can."
Kayden exhales a dark laugh. "Oh, she can rip us to shreds. But hey, what wife can't?"
Donna shoots him a look. "Seriously?"
His smirk flickers, empty of humor. "What? Didn't realize we had a joke police. Go ahead, cuff me." He lifts his hands halfway, mock surrender.
Donna rolls her eyes.
"I'll go now," I say, cutting through the tension. The words drop. Silence follows.
"Good luck, brother," Kayden says quietly.
Donna squeezes my arm, a brief empathetic gesture. Darius meets my eyes and nods once.
Then I turn and head for the basement. The air grows colder with every step down.
"So, husband number one finally shows up?" Sage asks, voice lilting with mock sweetness. "Or are you number two? I met Kayden first, so I suppose he gets the top billing."
I sit cross-legged across from her. The floor is cold. The air smells like iron and stone.
"This isn't going to work, Sage," I say evenly. "I'm not jealous of my brother. We both married you."
"True." She tilts her head, hair falling over one eye.
"But you're the one who disappointed me.
Kayden… he's chaos. That's what he does.
But you, the soldier, the knight. You're supposed to save people.
" Her voice drops to a whisper, venom wrapped in grief.
"And you keep failing, don't you? Your soldiers. Tomas. Me."
I meet her gaze for a beat, then lower it. "You've already catalogued my failures. I know them. I own them. I'm still trying to make them right."
I close my eyes.
She laughs, sharp and cruel. "Make them right? By meditating in my dungeon? What's next, enlightenment through boredom? Are you going to whack me with a monk stick if I act out?"
Silence.
"Ah. The silent treatment. Fine. Let's see who lasts longer, husband."
Time blurs. Minutes or hours. I stop tracking. The only sound is her fingers tapping the floor. Slow at first, then faster. Erratic. A rhythm that grates.
I don't move.
"That's your big plan?" she spits finally. "You're going to bore the monster into submission?"
I keep my eyes closed.
The chains rattle. A sharp, metallic snap.
I open my eyes. She's lunging, close enough that I can feel her breath. The chains pull taut just short of me, metal screaming against stone.
Her face is inches from mine, twisted in fury. Beneath it, there is pain. And thirst.
"You bastard!" she hisses, straining again, muscles trembling. The cuffs don't give.
It tears through me to see her like this. To watch what's left of her fighting the thing she's become. I want to stop her, to keep her from breaking herself against the chains, but I can't say anything. She'd turn the compassion into a weapon.
So I stay still and calm, breathing evenly.
She's a creature of chaos now—feral, brilliant, and unpredictable. And me, still a soldier. Using silence, control, and presence as the only weapons I have left, even as something in me fractures a little more each time she screams.
She finally stops straining, whether from exhaustion or acceptance, I can't tell. The chains rattle once more, then go still. She sinks back against the wall.
For a long time, we just look at each other.
Then she speaks, voice low and frayed.
"You know, if I ever came back, if the empathy returned, what then?
How would I live with everything I've done?
The blood, the screams, the wreckage?" Her eyes flicker in the dim light, something fragile there.
"You want your little nymph wife back, the soft one who made flowers bloom when she came apart in your hands, but what happens when she remembers what I did?
When she feels it? You'd make me live that pain, Asher. How is that love?"
She leans forward, the shadows cutting her features.
"If you really loved me, you'd let me go.
You wouldn't force me to crawl back into a body that can't bear itself.
I was made to bring life, not take it. How could I ever live with that?
" Her voice sharpens, crueler now. "And how could I love you knowing you're the one who dragged me back into it? "
I don't answer. The silence stretches, heavy, suffocating. Every word she said carves through me, but I can't give her the satisfaction of seeing it.
When I finally speak, my voice is calm.
"Maybe you'll hate me for it. Maybe you'll never forgive me. That's fine. I'll carry that weight." I meet her eyes, steady. "Because somewhere inside, there is a part of you that's still fighting. I know you want to come back, you just don't remember what it feels like to want the light."
She exhales, a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Didn't think you had it in you to be that cruel, Colonel."
Her shoulders sag. She leans her head back against the stone. For a heartbeat, she looks almost herself again. "I'm not your redemption project. You can't fix me. You should either let me go or kill me. There's no other ending."
"You won't be alone after," I say quietly. "I'll be there. Kayden will be, too. Even Darius, if you'll have him. And the others, the family you built, they'll stand by your side."
Her gaze flicks up, searching. I press on. "Let go of the darkness, Sage. It's not protecting you. It's only burying what's left of you."
Her expression cracks. Lips trembling. Tears glinting at the corners of her eyes.
The urge to go to her almost wins. I stay still. I've seen this before. Vulnerability as a mask. The monster's mimicry of the woman I love.
"Let me go," she whispers.
"If letting you go means allowing you to fall deeper into this darkness," I say, voice low, "then no. I won't. Because I love you, Sage, more than I've ever loved anyone. And I'd rather have you alive and hating me than lost forever."
The words land heavy between us. It's the first time I've said them aloud, though they've been burning through me for a long time.
I rise, take one small step closer. My voice softens. "I won't give up on you. That's what love is—fighting even when it hurts, holding on when every instinct says let go. I love you too much to stop trying."
Her face shifts. The tears dry. The warmth dies. The mask drops completely, and what looks back at me isn't my wife.
"What a pathetic speech," she sneers. "I wonder, what made me want you in the first place.
Maybe you came with the package, that's all there was to it.
" She lunges again. The chains jerk tight.
"I never loved you, and I never will. So take your monk nonsense and choke on it, Colonel.
I'm not coming back. This is all you get. "
My jaw tightens. I tell myself to breathe, to keep calm. But even discipline has limits, and mine's cracking under the weight of what's left of her voice.
I nod once, curt, and turn away.
Her cold laughter follows. "Giving up so easily, Colonel? Knew you would."
The hallway feels too bright when I step out. Morning light filters through the windows. I've been down there all night.
Donna's asleep on the sofa, half-wrapped in a blanket. Tomas sits in the corner, still reading. Maeve's back, coffee in hand, eyes flicking nervously toward the garden where dead plants lie black and brittle.
Kayden looks up first. One glance, and he knows. He doesn't ask. His shoulders stay tight, his jaw set. Darius is nearby, tie gone, shirt rumpled, hair disordered. The closest I've ever seen him to broken.
"She's not ready," I say. My voice sounds like gravel. "But she's in there. The real Sage. She knows what she's done, even if she hides behind it. I can't tell if it's fear or calculation, but she understands what it would mean to feel again."
Donna stirs, blinking awake. "So… what now?"
I glance at my brother. He frowns, shakes his head once. "Not yet," he mutters.
"I can go," Donna says, standing and stretching. "But I don't want to do it alone."
"I'll go with you," Tomas says quietly.
I nod in agreement. I don't know if it'll help, but I can't let her drown in that darkness alone. Maybe if she sees faces she knows, hears voices that once meant safety, the real Sage will start finding her way back to us.