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.”