Page 9 of Until You Break

“The buyer for the other one’s coming tomorrow,” Yellow Mask says, his voice low but not enough to keep me from hearing. “We’ll prep him in the morning.”

Other one.Dominic.

The realization slams into me, chilling me to the bone… They’re planning to sell him tomorrow. This is their last chance to break him, to make him compliant for whatever fate they have in store.

A sob catches in my throat, but I swallow it down, holding onto the image of his face, bruised and bloodied, but still defiant. I grip the cross around my neck and sniff… Dominic is leaving tomorrow.

I force myself to stand, to keep breathing even though the room feels like it’s closing in on me. They’re going to take him, and after what he just did for me… after he tried to protect me…

When they’re done, they hand me a pair of panties and a plain, oversized shirt and shove me back into the hallway, dragging me back toward the cells. My feet move automatically, numb, each step a hollow echo that seems to stretch on forever.

When they open the door to my cell, I spot him immediately—slumped against the bars on his side, his face swollen and bruised, dried blood caked on his lip. He’s leaning heavily, one arm wrapped around his ribs, his breathing ragged.

I scramble forward, dropping to my knees beside the bars, reaching my hand through to him, my fingers just brushing his shoulder. “Dominic,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Oh my God, why would you do that?!”

He lets out a rough cough, grimacing as he tries to lift his head. “Guess… they didn’t like my offer,” he says, his voice weak, laced with pain.

Tears blur my vision as I reach out, gently touching his shoulder. “You… you tried to take my place,” I murmur, a raw ache settling deep in my chest. “Why…?”

He opens his eyes, his gaze unfocused but soft, a faint, painful smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t want them… to hurt you,” he whispers, each word coming out strained, as if even speaking is painful.

A sob slips out before I can stop it, and I press my hand to my mouth, trying to hold myself together, but it’s no use. The tears come, hot and heavy, each one carrying the weight of everything I’ve been holding in.

“Don’t… don’t cry, Little Sinner,” he murmurs, reaching up with a shaky hand to touch my cheek. His fingers are cold, his skin pale, and I can see the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” I whisper, barely able to speak through the lump in my throat. “They did this to you… because of me.”

He gives a faint shrug, his eyes closing for a moment. “Worth it,” he mumbles, almost too softly for me to hear.

He coughs again, wincing, and I can see the toll the beating has taken on him. His face is a mess of bruises, his lip split, cheek swollen and split as well. The sight makes my heart ache, the anger simmering beneath the fear.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say, my voice barely audible. “You barely know me.”

“Hey.” His voice is soft, the pain still evident. “I’d do it again. If it means keeping you safe… I’d do it again.”

A fresh wave of tears rolls down my cheeks, and I bite my lip, struggling to keep my sobs quiet. “You’re an idiot,” I whisper, but there’s no anger in my voice, only a raw, aching gratitude. “A reckless, stupid idiot.”

He chuckles, though it quickly turns into a grimace as he clutches his side, groaning softly. “Yeah… well… wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”

I reach my hand through the bars, resting my palm on the side of his face and trying to offer some kind of comfort, even if it’s barely anything. He leans into my touch, closing his eyes, his breathing uneven, and for a moment, we just sit there, both of us bruised, broken, clinging to the only thing we have left—each other.

Shifting, I see him shrugging off his black hoodie, then he hands it to me through the bars, wincing. It’s then that I see the tattoos that snake up his arms and peek out from under his collar.

“You’ll freeze in just the shirt. Take… take this,” he says and my heart breaks again.

Why is he being so kind to me?

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice choked. “For this and… for trying to protect me.”

He nods, and lays back down, his eyes closing. “Don’t worry about me, Little Sinner. I’ve taken worse hits,” he mutters, his voice growing weaker with each word. “Just… stay strong. Don’t let them break you.”

The pain in his voice, the vulnerability etched into every bruised inch of his face, is almost too much to bear. I feel a fresh wave of tears building, but I swallow them down, forcing myself to hold it together, if only for his sake.

“I won’t,” I promise, my voice shaking but determined. “I won’t let them break me. And I won’t let them break you, either.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips, and he closes his eyes, letting out a slow, shuddering breath. “That’s… good,” he murmurs, his voice trailing off as he sinks into unconsciousness.

I lay down on the cold floor next to him, the bars separating us, and I still smell pine needles and motor oil on his hoodie but it’s nearly masked by the copper scent of blood.

---