Page 36 of Until You Break

She looks up at me, her eyes wide, searching, trying to find something in my gaze, trying to piece together a story that she’s kept buried.

“You’re lying,” she whispers, her voice barely steady. “I know what happened. We were… we were just surviving. We… you…”

I tighten my grip, feeling her tremble beneath me. “Tell me, Little Sinner, do you really remember, or are you just picking at pieces you twisted to fit what you needed?” I let the words linger, watching as her eyes widen, as the memories start to shift and twist behind her gaze. “Because I remembereverything.”

Her voice breaks, her tone pleading. “Then tell me what you remember, Dominic. Tell me, because I don’t understand why you’re doing this!”

I smirk. “Maybe I’m just tired of pretending. Maybe it’s time you remember the truth of us.”

Her breathing catches, her eyes flickering with confusion. “What truth?”

I tilt my head, letting her see the cold satisfaction in my eyes. “Think back, Aria. I wasn’t just a so-called protector. I was so much more than a fucking friend to you.”

I can see it, the cracks forming, the way her eyes dart, like she’s trying to piece it together, like she’s fighting the memories twisting in her mind. And then something shifts, a flash of something buried, something she’s kept locked away.

Her face pales and her body goes still beneath me as her eyes widen.

“No,” she whispers, her voice barely there. “That’s not… that’s not how it was. You were my friend!”

“You think that was friendship? You think that was just some trauma bond you could walk away from? Because I remember you clinging to me, begging me, trembling for me. Do you remember that, Aria? Do you remember just how deep I got into your mind?”

She closes her eyes, her chest heaving, as if trying to block it out, but I don’t let up. I lean closer, my voice a low, taunting whisper.

“You don’t want to remember, because it’ll shatter that neat little story you’ve told yourself. But I was there. I know exactly who you are, who you really are.”

Her eyes snap open, filled with fear and anger, and she looks at me, her voice shaking. “Why are you doing this? Why are you… you already destroyed me once. Isn’t that enough?”

I let out a harsh laugh, feeling the thrill of control, the satisfaction of watching her break.

“Destroyed you? I haven’t even begun, Aria. You think this is hell? You haven’t seen anything yet.” She looks away, as if that’ll somehow protect her, but I grab her chin, forcing her gaze back to mine.

“This is me reminding you that you’re still mine. That you’ve always been mine. And no fiance, no neat little life, is ever going to change that.”

Her mouth opens, like she’s about to argue, to say something defiant, but she just clenches her jaw, her eyes blazing with fury. She’s fighting it, fighting me, but deep down, I know the truth—she’s terrified because she knows I’m right.

She’s held onto this version of herself, pretending she’s over it, but it’s a lie. And I’m about to tear that lie apart.

“You’re sick, Dominic,” she whispers, her voice full of disgust, of anger, but there’s something else, too—something raw and unwilling to let go.

“Maybe I am,” I murmur, shrugging, my grip on her chin tightening just enough to keep her attention, to let her know I’m serious. “But you’re not exactly innocent here, are you? You could have moved on, could have forgotten me. But you didn’t. You’re still here, still letting me slip into your head. Don’t act like you don’t want this, that some twisted part of you isn’t waiting for me to walk through that door.”

She flinches, and it’s like I’ve struck a nerve, like she’s realizing just how deep I’ve sunk into her life, how much she can’t shake me, even if she wants to.

“Just let me go,” she whispers, her voice barely a breath, her eyes pleading. “Please, Dominic. You don’t have to do this.”

I let out a soft laugh, the thrill of control sending a rush through my veins. “Let you go? Now why would I do that, when I’ve got you exactly where I want you?”

Chapter twenty-six

His Sinner

His words sink in,and something cracks open inside me, a dark, hidden part of myself that I’ve kept locked up, buried so deep I almost forgot it was there. But now the memories resurface, forcing me to confront what I’ve tried so hard to erase.

That cell. The smell of damp concrete, the sound of chains, the darkness that felt endless. But it wasn’t just fear I felt back then.

I remember his eyes on me, the intensity, the quiet promise in his gaze as he moved closer, bridging the distance between us like the world outside didn’t matter anymore. The way he held me, made me shake, comforted me and made me scream his name.

I’d let myself slip into it—drawn to the darkness he wore like a second skin.

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