Page 73 of Until You Break

She throws the knife to the floor and reaches up, slipping her arms around my neck. “I can’t be a Sinner without my Sin.”

Fuck me.

It hits me then, like a punch to the fucking throat, that she remembers. Every single twisted, dark memory, all the things she’s shoved down and denied.

The cell, the darkness, the blood on her hands as she killed our men… but more than that, she must remember the beginning. That she started this, that she was the one who turned that innocent crush into something more, something twisted.

She knows now that it wasn’t just chance that put her in my path. I put her there. I arranged everything—planned every single detail—just to be close to her, to make sure she couldn’t escape me, even if it meant building our own prison.

“You remember,” I whisper.

Her smile widens, and there’s a gleam in her eyes that makes my blood rush, makes every dark, twisted part of me flare to life.

“Every bit of it. But the doctors… they made me think it was wrong, that I was wrong, but it wasn’t,” she shakes her head. “It was exactly what I wanted. I just…I twisted the memories to make them seem like I was a victim. I forced myself to forget about you.”

I let out a harsh laugh, the relief and the thrill and the sheer fucking joy flooding through me, stronger than anything I’ve felt in years. “So you know… you know why I did it. You know how deep this goes.”

Her wicked smile sends a thrill through me, her eyes locked on mine.

“Yes. I know that you were the one who set up the kidnapping. I remember figuring it out,” her voice drops, a dangerous edge to it. “And I remember thinking you were mine long before you ever pulled me into that cell.”

“Then why did you run, Little Sinner?” I ask, leaning in close and gripping her chin. “Why did you leave when you knew what we had, what we were?”

She stares at me, unflinching. “Because I wasn’t ready to admit that I wanted you as much as you wanted me. That your obsession was just a mirror of my own. I ran because I knew that once I admitted it… there was no going back. That you’re my reason and my fucking ruin.”

Hearing her say it, hearing her admit it—there’s no feeling like it. It’s like every piece of me that’s been waiting has finally snapped free since the first time I laid eyes on her in that fucking diner.

She didn’t just understand my darkness; she matched it, fueled it, gave it a reason to exist. I tighten my grip on her jaw, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who the fuck I am. Her voice drops to a whisper, her lips brushing against my jaw.

“Do you know what she said to me?”

I don’t answer, my jaw tightening as she pulls back just enough to meet my eyes again.

“She begged,” Aria says, her tone devoid of any emotion, any hint of remorse. “She begged me not to do it. Said she didn’t know you were taken. Said it didn’t mean anything.”

“And?” I ask, my voice rough, my chest tightening with pride and fucking need.

Her grin widens, and she leans in, her teeth grazing my bottom lip. “And I told her she was right. She didn’t mean anything. But I wanted her to understand that I do.”

“What now, Little Sinner?” I ask, lapping at her lips with my tongue. “What’s your next move? You’ve remembered what we are. So what are you going to do about it?”

She tilts her head, feigning thoughtfulness, but the fire in her eyes betrays her.

“That depends,” she says slowly. “Are you going to punish me for running? Or reward me for coming back?”

I laugh, the sound vibrating in the space between us. “Who says I can’t do both?”

Her breath hitches, just barely, but I catch it. Her composure slips for a fraction of a second, and it’s enough to send a thrill through me. Because for all her defiance, for all her darkness, she’s still mine to unravel.

Mine to break apart and put back together.

I don’t give her a chance to say anything else. My lips collide with hers, hard and demanding, a battle for dominance that neither of us is willing to lose.

She tastes like sin and salvation all at once. Her nails dig into the back of my neck as she pulls me closer, as if she’s desperate to prove something, to claim me the way I’ve always claimed her.

When we finally pull apart, both of us are breathing hard, our gazes locked. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed, and the streaks of red on her skin look even more vivid in the harsh light of the garage.

She’s a fucking masterpiece of chaos and carnage, and I’ve never wanted anything more.

---