Page 19 of Until You Break

Matteo snorts, folding his arms over his chest, his eyes cold and unyielding. “Save the apologies for someone who gives a shit. Just don’t come back.”

The finality in his voice makes my stomach twist, and I feel the last sliver of hope slip away. I nod, turning on my heel, heading back toward my bike with my heart pounding, every step heavy with the weight of what I’ve lost all over again.

Just as I reach my bike, I hear Luca’s voice behind me. “Aria.”

I turn, meeting his gaze, the sadness in his eyes making my chest ache. “I know he meant a lot to you,” he says quietly, his tone softer now, almost apologetic. “But he’s not the same man. Whatever you remember… hold onto it. Because that’s all you’ll get.”

I nod, unable to find the words to respond. There’s nothing left to say, nothing that will change what they’ve told me, what I’ve known deep down all along.

Dominic’s gone, and even if he’s alive somewhere, he’s a stranger to me now.

Without another word, I climb onto my bike, the engine roaring to life beneath me. I don’t look back as I pull out of the lot, feeling Matteo’s hostile gaze boring into my back, Luca’s quiet, resigned sadness lingering in my mind. I drive, my thoughts tangled, the ache in my chest settling into something cold and hollow.

I came looking for answers, hoping for closure, but I’m leaving with nothing but more questions and a bitter reminder of everything I lost the day Dominic disappeared.

Chapter twelve

The Phantom

A figure leans againstthe rusted frame of an old truck parked just beyond the edge of the lot, hidden in the shadows, watching as Aria mounts her bike.

She’s moving quickly, her face drawn tight, her gaze set on the road ahead, unaware of the eyes fixed on her with an intensity that borders on obsession.

The engine growls to life beneath her, a low, steady rumble, and she pulls out of the lot, not once looking back.

The figure’s lips curl into a faint smile, satisfied, but with a hunger that isn’t quite sated. She’s still as beautiful as he remembers—more so, if that’s even possible.

The years haven’t softened her; they’ve sharpened her edges, given her a quiet strength that only makes her more… desirable.

He takes in the sight of her as she speeds away, feeling the same thrill that surged through him the night she first set eyes on him all those years ago.

His.

That’s what she is, even if she doesn’t remember fully. Even if she’s spent the last five years clinging to some pathetic version of normalcy, fooling herself into thinking she escaped. She may have run, but she’s never truly been free. He’s seen to that.

The flower was a nice touch—something simple, yet unmistakable. A sunflower. He knows how it must have hit her, a reminder of memories she can’t forget, of a connection she’s never been able to sever.

It was a promise; a sign that he’s closer than she thinks, that he’s always been there, watching. Waiting. Her life might have gone on, but every choice she’s made, every place she’s sought comfort, every moment of peace she’s tried to claim… he’s been behind it, shaping it, keeping her from slipping too far from his reach.

She doesn’t know the lengths he went to, the pieces he moved into place five years ago to make her his. Every step, every painful memory, every scar—And she played her part beautifully, just like he knew she would.

He straightens, taking one last look in the direction she disappeared, his gaze burning with anticipation. She’s not ready to see him yet, not quite. But she will be.

And when that time comes, when the last illusions of her freedom have fallen away, she’ll have no choice but to accept what he’s known all along.

She belongs to him.

Chapter thirteen

His Sinner

By the time Imake it back to my office, the anger is pulsing through me so hard I can feel it in my teeth.

Who the hell do Luca and Matteo think they are? The nerve they had, brushing me off, telling me to leave Dominic in the past, like I haven’t spent every day trying to make sense of what happened to him—and to me.

I slam the door shut behind me, locking myself in the small, cluttered space, letting the silence fill the room as I try to calm the fire running through me.

“Dominic survived,” I whisper to myself, the words both grounding and painful. Of course he changed. Anyone who went through what he did would be different.

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