Page 52 of Until You Break

Sin.

It wasn’t much, just one word, a slip in the heat of the moment, but it was enough. Enough to tell me that the cracks are forming, that somewhere in that carefully constructed version of her life, she’s starting to remember. Maybe not everything. Not yet. But it’s a start.

That has to mean something. It has to.

“You’re not as far gone as you think,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re still in there, Little Sinner. And I’ll drag you back out piece by piece if I have to.”

I let my eyes roam over her. She’s so goddamn beautiful it almost hurts, like looking at something you know you can’t have but can’t bring yourself to walk away from. But she’s not something I can’t have.

She’s here, with me, exactly where she’s supposed to be. And no matter how much she fights it, no matter how many times she tells herself she doesn’t want this, I know the truth.

Why did she forget? How could she forget what happened in those cells? What we shared? I’ve been over it a thousand times in my head, and it never makes sense. She wasn’t just survivingin there. She chose me, over and over again. She gave herself to me in a way I’ve never seen from anyone, not before, not since. And then she ran.

“Why did you run, Aria?” I murmur, my voice low, like she might answer me in her sleep. “What the fuck were you so afraid of?”

I hate the way my chest tightens, hate the way the memory of her slipping away from me all those years ago still feels like a knife in my side. I risked everything to keep her, and when I turned around, she was gone. Just gone.

I drag a hand through my hair, letting out a low growl as the frustration builds, simmering just under the surface. She didn’t just leave me behind—she leftusbehind. Everything we were, everything we could’ve been, thrown away like it didn’t fucking matter.

But it mattered. It mattered to me. It still does.

She shifts again, her brow furrowing, a soft whimper escaping her lips. My hands curl into fists at my sides, the need to wake her up, to pull her into my arms, almost unbearable.

But I don’t. I let her sleep, because she’ll need her strength tomorrow. She’ll need it to deal with me.

I stand, grabbing the chair from the corner of the room and dragging it closer to the bed. I sit, my elbows on my knees, my eyes never leaving her. It’s a habit I’ve picked up over the years, watching her like this when she’s quiet, when she doesn’t have walls up to hide behind.

It’s the only time she’s honest, the only time I can see the girl she used to be, the girl I’ve been chasing since the moment I first saw her. The girl who forced me to see who I belonged to.

“You’re remembering,” I say softly, leaning forward, my voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t even realize it, but it’s there, in the back of your mind, waiting to come to the surface.”

I reach out, my fingers brushing against her hair, and she lets out another soft sound, her face turning slightly toward me. It’s enough to make something sharp and aching settle in my chest, but I shove it down, locking it away where it can’t distract me.

“You don’t get to forget me, Aria,” I say, the words a promise. “You don’t get to pretend like I’m just some shadow in your past. I’m here, right in front of you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

I could stay here all night, just watching her, memorizing every line, every curve, every soft sound she makes.

“You’ll wake up tomorrow, and you’ll try to pretend like nothing’s changed,” I say, my voice low, steady. “But it has. You’re remembering, whether you like it or not. And it’s only a matter of time before you stop fighting it.”

Chapter thirty-six

His Sinner

I wake up tosunlight streaming through a window so large it looks like it belongs in a gallery. It takes me a second to orient myself, to remember where I am—Dominic’s bed.

The sheets smell like him, and my cheeks heat as flashes of last night come rushing back, vivid and impossible to ignore. He had me strung up and ate me out until I collapsed. I didn’t have a say in it, I just begged him for his mouth.

I sit up quickly, the covers pooling around my waist, and take in the room. It’s massive, the kind of space you’d see in a glossy magazine, all sleek lines and dark colors. The walls are a muted gray, the furniture polished and minimalist.

It’s not what I expected from him. For someone as rough and deadly as Dominic, his room is disturbingly neat. Everything has its place, from the books lined perfectly on the shelves to the sleek black dresser with nothing but a single watch resting on top.

My eyes drift to the far wall, and I freeze. There they are—the bars I was strung up on last night. My cheeks burn asthe memory rushes back, vivid and overwhelming. The way he pulled every response from me like he’d memorized exactly how to unravel me. I tear my eyes away, trying to push it down, but my heart’s already pounding.

Get it together, Aria. I scold myself, my gaze moving around the room again, desperate for a distraction. There’s no chaos here, no sign of the recklessness he wears so easily. Even his nightstand is spotless, just a glass of water and a book.

Lord of the Flies by William Golding. Interesting.

My eyes fall on a small rack on the opposite wall, and my lips curl into a sarcastic smile.

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