Chapter 18 Sage's Secret (Sage POV)
The old boathouse smelled like damp wood and lake water. Moonlight slipped through the cracked slats in the roof, painting silver stripes across the warped floorboards. I stood near the water’s edge, arms wrapped tight around myself, hoodie pulled up even though the night wasn’t cold. My heart kept doing this stupid fluttery thing, like it couldn’t decide whether to race or stop altogether.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel path outside.
I turned.
He stepped through the doorway, tall, dark hair pushed back, wearing the same gray graduate-student hoodie he always wore when we met. Julian. That was the only name he’d ever given me. No last name. No pack affiliation. Just “Julian, visiting researcher from the eastern territories, studying pack social dynamics.” He’d shown me a fake ID once, Grainy photo, university seal I didn’t recognize. I’d wanted to believe it so badly I hadn’t looked too hard.
“Sage,” he said. His voice was calm, almost gentle. “You’re shaking.”
I forced my hands to unclench. “I’m fine.”
He stepped closer, slow, like he was approaching something skittish. “You don’t look fine.”
I swallowed. “They filed formal charges this morning. Trial’s in three days. Eclipse Chamber. Everyone’s saying she’s as good as dead.”
Julian nodded once, like he’d expected this. “I heard.”
I paced three steps toward the water, then back. “She’s my best friend. And I, ” My voice cracked. “I gave her the drink. At the party. The one you said would just… help her relax. Loosen up. Stop being so tense all the time.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look guilty. Just watched me with those steady brown eyes.
“You did what was necessary,” he said quietly.
“Necessary?” I laughed, sharp, ugly. “She blacked out. Woke up with silver marks. Woke up accused of murder. That’s not relaxing. That’s, ”
“That’s the beginning of the truth,” he interrupted. Softly. Firmly. “The trial is a sham, Sage. Pack leadership doesn’t want her alive because she knows too much. Or she will. Soon. She doesn’t remember yet, but the memories are surfacing. When they do, they’ll eliminate her. Quietly. Before anyone else finds out what she really is.”
I stopped pacing. “What she really is?”
Julian reached into his hoodie pocket. Pulled out a small plastic bottle, blue capsules, same as the ones I’d slipped into her cranberry punch weeks ago. He held it out.
“More supplements,” he said. “Stronger formulation. These will help her complete the Turning safely. No more blackouts. No more instability. She’ll gain control instead of losing it.”
I stared at the bottle. My hand hovered, trembling.
“You said the last ones were just to help her relax,” I whispered.
“They were.” He stepped closer. “The first dose lowered her defenses so the Turning could begin. These finish the process cleanly. She’s already past the seventy-two-hour danger window, nothing catastrophic happened. She’s strong. She’s surviving. These will make sure she thrives.”
I took the bottle. The plastic was cool against my palm.
“Why do you care?” I asked. “You’re not pack. You’re not even from here. Why help her?”
Julian’s expression softened. “Because I’ve seen what happens when packs bury the truth. I’ve seen kids like Rowan, suppressed, lied to, used as pawns. I won’t let it happen again. Not if I can stop it.”
I looked down at the capsules. They rattled softly when I shook the bottle.
“I’ve already caused so much damage,” I said. My voice cracked again. “The drink. The party. She trusted me. And I...”
“You were trying to help her,” he said. “You still are.”
I met his eyes. “If I give her these… will she be okay?”
“She’ll be free,” he said. “No more drugs holding her back. No more pretending to be human. She’ll remember everything. And when she does, she’ll need someone she trusts standing beside her. That’s you, Sage. You’re the only one she’s ever let close.”
My throat burned. I nodded once, jerky, automatic.
“I’ll get them to her,” I said. “Tomorrow. Visiting hours. I’ll tell the guards it’s from the health center. They’ll let me through.”
Julian smiled, small, relieved. “Good. That’s all I’m asking.”
I slipped the bottle into my hoodie pocket. It felt heavier than it should have.
“One more thing,” he said.
I looked up.
“When you see her,” he continued, “don’t mention me. Don’t mention the supplements came from anyone but the infirmary. The less she knows about outside help right now, the safer she is.”
I nodded again. “Okay.”
He stepped back toward the doorway. “Be careful, Sage. The packs are watching everyone close to her. If they suspect you’re helping...”
“I know,” I cut in. “I’ll be careful.”
He paused in the moonlight. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Then he was gone, footsteps fading down the gravel path, swallowed by the night.
I stood there alone for a long minute. The lake lapped softly against the pilings. Somewhere far off, an owl called, low, mournful.
I pulled the bottle out again. Stared at the blue capsules.
My hands shook so badly I almost dropped them.
I’d already hurt her once.
I’d lied to her face. Watched her spiral. Watched her get arrested. Watched her bend steel bars in her sleep and still swear she was innocent.
And now I was supposed to give her more pills. From a man I barely knew. A man who said he was helping.
I closed my fingers around the bottle.
I needed to believe him.
Because if I didn’t, if I stopped now, then everything I’d already done really was unforgivable.