Page 4 of Until You Break

I manage a faint smile at the random nickname, rolling my eyes at his comment, but there’s a warmth in his teasing. “Hey, some of us actually want to make a difference. I know, shocking.”

“Yeah, yeah, difference-makers,” he says, a hint of sarcasm coloring his tone. Then he shrugs, looking away, his gaze distant for a moment. “I guess we all have our crutches. Just never felt like I had a reason to lean on something that didn’t feel real.”

I nod slowly, still clutching the cross, understanding that faith isn’t for everyone. “Sometimes it’s all you’ve got, though. A little hope, something to believe in when nothing else makes sense.”

His eyes soften, and he meets my gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Guess that’s fair. Just don’t expect any holy miracles here. If we’re getting out, it’ll be because we’re willing to fight our way out.”

“Agreed,” I murmur.

He leans back, studying me for a moment longer before he nods. “Then here’s to fighting,” he says with a wan smile. “Get some rest, Aria. They’ll be back soon enough. And you’re going to need your strength.”

I want to argue, to stay awake, but exhaustion pulls at me, and I can feel my body starting to give in. “Thanks,” I murmur, feeling the words slip out before I can stop them.

He just nods, his gaze softening. “We’re getting out of here one way or another. Don’t forget that.”

I close my eyes, holding onto his words, letting them anchor me as I drift off. The fear is still there, lurking in the darkness, but it feels like something I can face. Because I’m not alone.

“I’m sorry you ended up here, Aria.”

There’s a rawness in his voice, a sadness that echoes in the empty space between us. And even though I don’t understand why he’s apologizing, I find myself whispering back, “Me too.”

Chapter three

His Sinner

I don’t know howlong I’ve been sitting in silence, trying to process everything Dominic told me. My mind keeps racing back to the wordtrafficking, circling it over and over again, as if understanding it will somehow make it less horrifying.

It doesn’t, though. Every time I think I’ve caught my breath, panic rears back up, twisting in my gut like a knife.

Just as I’m starting to drift into that dark place again, the heavy clank of a lock echoes through the hallway outside.

My body goes rigid, and I glance at Dominic, who’s already sitting up, his shoulders tense as he watches the door. The metal door creaks open, and a man steps in, carrying two trays.

I see the mask first—a red neon stitch mask, the stitches curling around hollow eye holes and a slashed mouth.

He’s tall and muscular, his arms covered in dark tattoos that snake down to his wrists. He’s dressed in black—black tank top, black camo pants, and heavy boots that thud against the concrete floor. His long hair hangs loose, and there’s something about him that radiates cruelty.

He sets one tray down outside Dominic’s cell, then moves toward mine. The mask’s smile stares at me as he slips the tray through the slot at the bottom of the bars. I can’t help it—the fear transforms into anger, burning up from my gut.

“Why are we here?” I ask, staring him down as best as I can. “What do you want with us?”

The man doesn’t respond, just stares at me through the hollow eye sockets of the mask. I try again, louder this time, hoping that if I keep pushing, he’ll slip up, give me something to hold onto.

“Are you just going to leave us here?” My voice grows more insistent, anger replacing the fear coursing through me. “Why take us?”

He pauses, his head tilting slightly as he looks back at me. I get the feeling he’s smiling under that mask, enjoying the way I’m coming undone. The anger burns hotter, filling up every space that fear left empty.

“Answer me, dammit!”

Without warning, he unlocks the cell, stepping inside with a calm that chills me to the bone. I take an involuntary step back, my bravado slipping as he slowly approaches. Panic flares, but I hold my ground, my mouth going dry as he towers over me.

“Stay away from her!” Dominic’s voice erupts from his cell, his hands gripping the bars tightly as he tries to shove them open. “Stay back, you piece of shit!”

The masked man barely glances at him, his attention fixed solely on me. Before I can even process what’s happening, his hand snaps out, and I feel a sharp, stinging pain as he backhands me hard across the face.

I stumble back, the impact sending me to the floor, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. My head throbs, and I press my hand to my cheek, tears stinging my eyes as I fight to keep myself from crying.

Scurrying away from him until I’m sitting on the cold concrete floor, my arms wrapped tightly around myself. I want to scream, to fight, but the fear has returned full force, wrapping around me like chains.

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