Page 70 of Until You Break

I squeeze my eyes shut, the memories now surging, spilling out with a clarity that scares me.

The nights in that cell, the things we said to each other, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing in his world.

I remember clinging to him, letting him claim every part of me in that cell. How guilty I felt because I didn’t want anyone to find us, that I would rather stay in that fucking cell with him until we both died.

No wonder he’s so relentless... I fucking made him this way.

But why did I push it all down? Why did I convince myself that there were bars, that he was separate, that he wasn’t… in me, as much as I was in him?

Maybe because I didn’t want to face what it meant. That I chose him, even when everything told me I shouldn’t, that some part of me wanted to be his long before he made me his.

That he didn’t just claim me. I let him, willingly, because I needed it, craved it just as much as he did.

And then the escape… what really happened that night? Did he want me to escape, to live a life just so he could pull me back into his orbit when he was ready? Did he know I’d be here, waiting, fighting, even now?

The memory of my escape is still blurry for some reason. I still don’t have all the answers, but one thing is clear. Dominic isn’t the only one caught in this obsession. I am, too.

I’ve been caught since the moment I laid eyes on him, since that first night in the diner. Since he smirked at me like he already knew what I was thinking, like he could read every dark, hidden thought I tried to keep buried.

I lay there, stunned, the realization sinking into me like a weight, making it hard to breathe. I’d always thought of him as the one who pulled me in, who wrapped me up in his darkness, his possessiveness.

But I was wrong. I was the one who lit the fire, and Dominic… he was just feeding it, matching my intensity, giving me back exactly what I’d been asking for.

It’s a terrifying thought, but at the same time, it makes sense in a way I can’t deny. I wanted him. I craved his attention, his presence, even when it scared me.

And he gave it to me, in his own twisted, ruthless way.

Chapter forty-six

His Sinner

I’m sitting across fromMason in his cozy, dimly lit dining room, watching him pour wine with that same easy, reliable smile that drew me to him in the first place. He’s saying something about work, his voice calm, steady, but I can barely hear him.

My thoughts are a mess, tangled with Dominic, with the pieces of myself that have started surfacing, memories clawing their way to the front of my mind, refusing to stay buried.

It’s time. I know it. I need to end this with Mason. But the words feel like lead in my mouth. He’s good—stable, everything I thought I wanted.

And that’s exactly the problem. He’s the life I’m supposed to have, the life I’ve convinced myself is the right one, the safe one. Lately,safehas started to feel more like suffocating, and my mind is miles away, lost in memories I’m not sure I can ignore anymore.

Mason gives me a warm smile as he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. “You okay? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

I force a smile, nodding, even though every part of me feels disconnected, out of place. “Yeah, I’m… I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

His eyes soften, and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Well, I actually have something for you. I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

He gets up and walks over to a drawer, rummaging around for a moment before he returns, holding a small, dark blue box. He looks a little nervous, like he’s not sure how I’ll react.

“Go on,” he insists, and I don’t have the heart to refuse.

I untie the ribbon, flipping open the box to reveal a delicate cross pendant, identical to the one my mother gave me years ago. The one Dominic pulled from my neck right before he told me to run.

The one Dominic wears now.

My breath catches, my heart pounding as memories flood in, sharp and raw, tearing through every wall I’ve built.

I’m back in the cells with Dominic, refusing to leave because there, in that confined, dark place, I had him all to myself. I remember his voice, dark and low, calling me his “Little Sinner” with a smirk that sent a shiver down my spine

“If I’m a Little Sinner, what does that make you?”

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