Page 167 of Bitter When He Begs

“You told him off like you were ordering coffee,” I say, stunned.

“He’s just another suit with a voice,” Sage mutters. “I’ve survived worse.”

My chest feels tight, but not from pain now. From something else. Something bigger. “No one’s ever stood up to him for me like that.”

“Well, I’m not everyone,” Sage says simply, stepping closer and sliding his hands under my hoodie. “And he sure as shit doesn’t get to treat you like that while I’m breathing.”

I pull him into me, not giving a shit who might be watching. “You’re actually fucking terrifying,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his.

He grins at that—cocky and smug and just a little wild. “Good. Maybe now he’ll think twice before speaking to you like you’re less than.”

I laugh, breathless, still riding the adrenaline of it all. “You know, I’m glad I’ve never been on the receiving end of a Sage nuke.”

Sage lifts one eyebrow and smirks, his hands still under my hoodie, his fingers skating lightly over the bruised skin of my back like he’s soothing fire with something gentle. “Even when you deserved it?”

“Especially when I deserved it,” I say, letting out a laugh that borders on a groan because everything in my body hurts—but this? This feels like something clean burning in my chest. “You would’ve wrecked me. I’ve seen people try to win arguments with you. It’s like watching them drown in logic and sarcasm.”

He leans in, brushing his nose against mine like we’ve got all the time in the world, like the stadium lights, flashing cameras, and residual rage of my father don’t matter. “I’d never nuke you, Luca.”

“You sure?” I murmur, dragging my fingers up his sides, holding him close despite how much my ribs hate me for it.

“Well,” he concedes, pretending to think about it. “Unless you do something really fucking stupid.”

“Define ‘really fucking stupid.’”

“Like if you let someone else talk to you like he did tonight and didn’t say shit.” His voice is calm, steady, not angry—but serious. “That’d earn you a nuke. Not because I’d be mad at you. But because I’d be mad for you.”

I nod slowly, biting the inside of my cheek. “You’re scary when you’re like this.”

He grins again, and it’s so him, that flash of devil-may-care charm over something feral and honest. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No,” I say quietly. “Not bad. Just… new.”

Sage brushes a hand through my hair, gaze softening. “Get used to it, Devereaux. You’ve got me now. All of me. Even the parts that burn.”

My heart kicks against my ribs, and yeah—it hurts. But it also makes me feel something close to whole. Like whatever cracks my dad tried to leave in me, Sage is already filling them up with something steadier.

I press a kiss to his forehead, breathing him in. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He snorts. “Obviously.”

God help me, I love this man.

We don’t even make it to the stairs before I’ve got my hand on his waist, dragging him into me like I can’t bear the inches between us.

I’m still reeling.

Not from the game. Not from my ribs or the win, or the shitty adrenaline dump that always comes after a night like this.

I’m reeling from him.

From Sage standing toe to toe with my father and speaking every truth that I never had the courage to say. From the way he shielded me without hesitation. From the way he fucking namedropped Blackwell like it was a knife he’d been waiting to use and didn’t care who it cut through.

It wasn’t just standing up for me. It wasn’t just throwing himself between me and the man who’s been carving me down since I was old enough to breathe wrong.

He claimed me.

Out loud. In public. With fire in his fucking eyes and my name in his mouth like he’d fight God for it.