Page 65 of Until You Break

I throw him to the ground, and he stumbles, barely catching himself before I’m on him again. My fist connects with his nose this time, the crack of bone echoing in the narrow alley.

“And this,” I growl, my chest heaving as I land another punch, “this is for me. For every fucking thing she’s put in my head.”

His face is a mess now, blood dripping from his nose, but I don’t care. I grab his shirt, dragging him closer, my voice a venomous hiss.

“She started this,” I spit, my eyes blazing with fury. “She came into my fucking life, into my head, and now I’m the one who’s unhinged? I’m the stalker? But who the fuck chased who, huh? Who ran, and who stayed?”

He tries to speak, his words garbled, but I slam him back against the wall while purging myself of these fucked up feelings. The guy is barely conscious now, his head lolling to the side, but I’m too far gone to care. My fists ache, my knuckles split and bleeding, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

“She says stop,” I hiss, my voice breaking. “Like I’m the one who’s out of control. Like I didn’t try to give her everything. Like I didn’t fucking wait for her to figure it out.”

My breath comes in ragged gasps as I let him go, his body crumpling to the ground like a discarded rag. I step back, my chest heaving, and for a moment, all I can hear is the sound of my own breathing.

I glance down at him one last time, his pathetic form slumped against the wall, and shake my head. “Next time, think twice before you lay a hand on someone who doesn’t fucking belong to you.”

I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair, feeling the adrenaline start to fade, leaving only the twisted satisfaction of what I’ve done. She looked hurt tonight, vulnerable, and yeah, maybe it tore at me in a way I didn’t expect, but it’s not enough.

She made her choice. And if she wants to live this fantasy of a clean, safe life, then fine. But I’ll be damned if I let her forget what it feels like to have me in her life, to be wrapped up in everything dark and raw that she brings out in me.

I turn away, not bothering to look back at the mess I’ve left behind. My jaw is clenched so tight it feels like it might snap, and my mind is racing, Aria’s voice still echoing in my head.

Dominic, stop.

I grit my teeth, shoving my hands into my pockets as I stride down the street, the cool night air biting at my skin. She wanted me to stop. She wanted me to walk away, to let her go. But how the fuck am I supposed to do that when everything in me screams that she’s mine?

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, the word sharp and bitter as it leaves my lips.

I don’t stop walking until I reach my bike, the city blurring around me as my anger simmers just below the surface. I’ve always known I was fucked up, but she makes it worse. She makes me lose control in ways I didn’t even think were possible. And the worst part? I don’t want it to stop.

I don’t want her to stop.

Chapter forty-three

Her Ruin

I’m elbow-deep under thehood of an old Mustang, trying to keep my mind off her, off the way she’s managed to unravel every piece of my life without even trying.

I let the work distract me, the smell of oil, the hum of the engine under my hands. It’s the only thing that keeps me steady these days.

The sound of the door slamming open breaks my focus. I look up, and there she is, storming into the garage with fire in her eyes, her shoulders squared like she’s ready for a fight. It takes every ounce of control I have not to smile, not to show her just how much I’ve missed this, her in my space, her eyes blazing like I’m the only thing she wants to burn.

Fuck, I love it when my girl looks like she wants to stab me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, her voice sharp, cutting through the sounds of the garage like a knife.

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific, baby,” I say as I grab a rag and watch her face turn red.

“That guy from the other night? He’s dead! They found him beaten up in an alley.”

I raise an eyebrow, not even bothering to feign surprise. “And what’s that got to do with me?”

She stares at me, disbelief flickering across her face. “Are you serious? You think I’m stupid, Dominic? You think I don’t know you well enough to see right through you? You killed him—just because he touched me.”

I shrug, wiping my hands on the rag, forcing myself to stay calm and keep my expression unreadable. “You sound pretty confident for someone who doesn’t have any proof.”

“Proof!” she scoff, her jaw clenching, and she steps closer, her eyes dark with anger, and fuck me, I need her on her knees. “I saw the way you looked at him. You think killing someone over something like that is normal?”

“Maybe it is, to me,” I say, my voice controlled. “Guy puts his hands where they don’t belong, he pays the price. Doesn’t seem complicated.”

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