Page 67 of Until You Break

I glance up, my expression deliberately bored. “Yep. That’s exactly what I think.”

Her eyes flash, and there’s a part of me that revels in it, that enjoys this game, watching her unravel, watching her get just as twisted up as I am. She’s used to control, used to getting the final word, and I’m denying her that, letting her feel what it’s like to be the one left wanting.

She scoffs, the sound dripping with disbelief, frustration, anger. “You’re unbelievable, Dominic. You act like you’re someforce of nature, like nothing touches you, like you can just do whatever the hell you want without consequences.”

I give her the barest hint of a smirk. “Maybe that’s because I can.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but I don’t wait around to hear it. I grab another tool, my focus fully back on the car, giving her nothing. And even though I’m not looking at her, I can feel her frustration building, the tension thickening as she realizes that I’m not going to give her what she wants.

“You can’t just dismiss me,” she snaps, taking a step closer, her voice edged with desperation. “Not after everything you’ve done.”

I look at her, my expression unaffected. “Why not? You want me to grovel, to apologize for something I’m not sorry for? Not gonna happen, baby. I did what I had to do, and I’d do it again.”

She stares at me, her breath shallow, and I can see the war inside her, the struggle between wanting to hit me and wanting to drop to her knees. I straighten, wiping my hands on the rag, dismissing her with one last glance. “If you’ve got nothing else to say, there’s the door.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence, and I wonder if she’ll actually go, if she’ll finally turn her back and walk out, prove that she doesn’t need this, that she doesn’t need me. But she doesn’t. She stands there, hovering, like she’s still waiting, still hoping for something else.

Unfortunately for her, I’ve made up my mind. If she wants something from me, she’s gonna have to say it.

Because I’m done playing the one who’s willing to give it all.

Chapter forty-four

His Sinner

I stand there, rootedto the spot, feeling more lost than I ever have. He’s not even looking at me. Dominic’s so absorbed in his work, acting like I’m nothing more than an inconvenience he’s brushing off.

The words he threw at me—the ones that should have made me furious—just feel hollow now, echoing back with the bitterness I can’t ignore. He said I was his, he made me believe it, made me feel it in every touch, every word.

But right now? He looks like he couldn’t care less. Maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe this has all been in my head, just some twisted game I’ve let myself get dragged into.

I clench my fists, fighting against the wave of frustration, of hurt, that’s building in my chest.

This is the guy who once looked at me like I was the only thing keeping him breathing, the guy who tore through anyone who even dared to get near me. Now, he’s acting like I’m just… optional.

I know it’s my fault, so why can’t I just be honest with myself?

I clear my throat, hoping it’ll pull his attention, but he doesn’t so much as flinch. He just keeps working, wiping grease off his hands like I’m not standing here, feeling like my heart’s in a vice.

“You’re just going to ignore me?”

He pauses, glancing over his shoulder, his expression infuriatingly blank. “I already told you what you needed to know, Aria. What more do you want from me?”

The casualness in his voice, the way he tosses me aside like I don’t mean anything—it makes my stomach twist.

“Fine,” I bite out, taking a shaky breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re right. I don’t know why I came here. I guess I thought… I thought you’d be different.”

He shrugs, turning back to his work. “Maybe you should stop expecting me to be someone I’m not.”

The words hit like a punch, and I can feel the last remnants of hope slipping away. This is who he is—cold, ruthless, unwilling to give even an inch. He’s told me as much before, but I was too stubborn, too damn hopeful, to listen.

I feel my throat tighten, a bitter taste settling in my mouth.

“Maybe this is what’s best for both of us,” he says, casually. “You’ve got your life, and I’ve got mine.”

I stand there, stunned. All this time, I thought… I don’t even know what I thought. That he’d somehow prove me wrong? Of course not. I’m the idiot who didn’t choose him. I’m the one who let him go.

“So that’s it?” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re just giving up?”

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