Page 25 of Until You Break

Chapter eighteen

His Sinner

I’m stirring the pastasauce, one hand on the wooden spoon, the other resting on the counter as my phone sits on speaker nearby. Mason’s voice fills the kitchen, warm and familiar, blending with the soft hiss of the stovetop.

“So, what do you think?” he’s asking, that hopeful tone in his voice. “A whole week on the coast. Just you, me, and a beach we don’t have to share with anyone else.”

I laugh, the sound coming easier than I expect. “That sounds incredible, Mason. Just sun, quiet, and no work. You sure you’ll be able to handle it?”

He chuckles. “I’m willing to make the sacrifice if it means I get you to myself for a week. You have no idea how much I need this.”

“I think I have some idea,” I say, smiling, stirring the sauce as I feel a small flicker of excitement.

A vacation—one where I could leave all the stress and complications behind for a while. Just us, somewhere far fromeverything. No alarms, no locks to triple-check, no shadows lingering in the back of my mind.

“Good,” he says, the warmth in his voice making me feel a little lighter. “So we’ll book it as soon as I get back?”

“It’s a plan,” I say, taking a small taste of the sauce and nodding to myself. It’s perfect, just the way I like it. “Guess I better start packing my bags.”

“Don’t pack too much,” he teases. “I plan on keeping you busy.”

I laugh again, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see it. “Alright, Mr. Smooth Talker. Now go get some rest. You’ve got seminars tomorrow.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yep. Night, Mason.”

“Night, babe. Love you.”

“Love you too,” I say, though the words feel strangely empty as I end the call, setting my phone down.

I turn back to the stove, reaching for the spoon to stir the sauce one last time, but the faint prickle on the back of my neck makes me stop, my fingers freezing over the counter. It’s a feeling I know all too well—like I’m being watched, like there’s someone standing too close, breathing down my neck.

I turn slowly, every muscle going rigid as my gaze lands on the figure standing just feet away, watching me in silence.

Blue LED stitch mask on his face twisted into that eerie grin. Black jeans, a fitted black shirt stretched across his chest, tattoos running down his exposed arms, all sharp lines and dark ink.

He’s so close I can see the slight shift of his shoulders as he breathes, his heavy boots planted on my kitchen floor as if he belongs here.

My throat goes dry, and I take a shaky step back, my eyes darting around the kitchen. There’s no weapon within reach. The knives are on the far counter, and my hands are empty.I’m in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, bare legs and bare feet, vulnerable in a way that sends a prickling chill up my spine.

He doesn’t move. Just watches me, head tilted slightly to the side, that mask hiding his expression but amplifying the intensity of his presence. I can’t tear my gaze away, my heart racing so loud I can hear it echoing in my ears.

Then he takes a step forward, and my breath catches, instinct screaming at me to move, but I can’t. I’m frozen, his presence too heavy, too consuming.

Another step, and he’s so close I can see the faint glint of his eyes behind the mask, shadowed, hidden, but unmistakable.

I feel my throat tighten, my voice barely more than a whisper as I force myself to speak when he comes to a stop right in front of me.

“Dominic… is it… is it really you?”

He stays silent, unmoving, his head tilted as he studies me. The mask’s neon smile is mocking, hiding everything that could tell me what he’s thinking or what he wants.

I reach up, my hands shaking as I close the distance between us, fingers fumbling against the cool, slick surface of the mask. He doesn’t stop me, just stands there, his chest rising and falling steadily, letting me pull the mask away.

When it comes off, my heart stumbles.

I’m staring into eyes that haven’t changed, deep green and intense, pulling me in. But his face—it’s harder now, more rugged, a scar cutting through the corner of his upper lip, adding a sharpness to his features that wasn’t there before.

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