Page 11 of Until You Break

I laugh, but the sound feels foreign in this place, but somehow right with him here. “I’ll bet you’re the first biker to ever admit to liking sunflowers.”

“Probably,” he says, flashing me a small grin. “I’ve never been one for the stereotype, though. Makes life boring.”

I nod, and the conversation shifts into an easy rhythm, like we’re just two people getting to know each other, not prisoners trapped in cells. I tell him about the things I love—the scent of lavender, old poetry, my favorite lines from a poem I memorized as a kid. I share it with him, the words tumbling out softly, hesitant, but he listens, his gaze steady on me.

“‘Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light,’” I say, quoting the line that’s always been my favorite. “‘I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.’”

He watches me, his good eye softened, and he repeats the line under his breath, like he’s committing it to memory. “That’s… beautiful,” he murmurs. “And dark. Guess I should’ve known you’d be a closet poet.”

I roll my eyes, laughing. “It’s just something that’s always stayed with me. Guess it’s fitting for… well, now.”

He gives me a look, something deep and quiet, as though he sees right through me, sees every fear I’m hiding behind these small, shared secrets. “You’re not in the dark, Aria,” he says softly. “Not as long as I’m here.”

Before I can respond, the door clangs open. My heart plummets as I see two men standing there, their neon stitch masks glowing faintly, casting eerie shadows across their faces. I know why they’re here. I feel it in my bones, a cold certainty that makes my skin crawl.

“No…” I whisper, shaking my head as they step toward Dominic’s cell.

He glances at me, a soft resignation in his eyes. “Guess this is it,” he murmurs, and offers me a faint smile, like he’s trying to reassure me, even now.

“Dominic…” My voice cracks, the panic clawing up my throat, and I reach out, my fingers gripping the bars as though I can somehow hold him back, keep him here.

He leans forward, his good hand wrapping around mine, his gaze intense, steady. “Don’t be scared. You’ve got this. Just… hang on for me, alright?”

“I’ll hold on until I break,” I choke, my vision blurring with tears. “I… Please…”

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, a sadness flickering across his bruised face. “Don’t cry, Little Sinner, just think about those stars in the poem you love.”

Before I can say anything else, Red Mask yanks the cell door open, grabbing him roughly by the arm. Dominic barely flinches, though I see the pain flash across his face as they pull him up, shoving him toward the door.

I can feel the tears streaming down my face, my chest tightening as I watch them drag him out of the cell. “Please… please don’t go,” I sob, reaching out through the bars, desperate to hold onto him.

“I’ll come back for you,” he says, his voice steady despite everything. “Don’t break for anyone, okay?”

“No!” I sob, trying to reach out to him, but the light has left his eyes, his bruised face softened with a look that’s almost tender. Then he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind them.

“Dominic!” I scream, my voice raw, echoing in the empty cell. I pound on the bars, my fists aching as I call out his name, over and over, until my voice is hoarse and my hands are numb.

But there’s only silence.

The promise he made to get me out is all I have left, and I hold onto it with everything I have, praying that somehow he’ll keep his word.

I sit there for what feels like hours, the darkness closing in, my fingers still clutching the cold bars, as though they’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

Chapter seven

His Sinner

I sit in thedark, clutching Dominic’s hoodie around me like it’s the only thing anchoring me to this reality. The fabric still smells faintly of him—oil and metal, like his garage, like the life he told me about.

I don’t know him, not really, but somehow, the pain in my chest feels too real, like I’m losing something I can’t replace.

My fingers dig into the worn fabric, my shoulders shaking with sobs that feel endless. I don’t know how much time has passed since they took him. It could’ve been minutes, or hours. The cell is silent, and all I can think about is his face, bruised and broken but still managing to smile; still making those promises I know he had no way of keeping.

They took him.

My tears have long since dried on my cheeks, but the ache lingers, a hollow pain in my chest that refuses to fade. I barely know him, but losing Dominic feels like I’ve lost the only solid thing left in this hell.

I wonder if he’s even still alive.

---