Page 72 of Until You Break

And for the first time in years, I don’t feel afraid. I feel… free.

Chapter forty-seven

Her Ruin

I’m hunched over mybike, trying to lose myself in the steady rhythm of fixing, tightening, adjusting. Anything to keep my mind off the goddamn ticking clock that seems to echo in my head with every passing hour.

Two days. I gave her three, and she’s still not here.

I feel like a fool for even setting that ultimatum, a desperate man reaching for control he doesn’t have. And now? Now I’m left with nothing but the anger that won’t let up, no matter how much I try to drown it out with work.

I grit my teeth, tightening a bolt harder than necessary until it gives under the force. Damn it. My frustration has been getting the better of me, snapping at Luca and Matteo whenever they come too close.

I’ve caught them giving each other wary glances, keeping their distance like I’m some caged animal ready to rip into anything that moves.

And maybe they’re right. My patience is worn thin, and every minute she’s not here feels like another layer of control slippingaway, leaving me with nothing but this raw, gnawing need that refuses to die down.

With a growl, I throw the wrench down, watching as it clatters across the concrete floor, the sound echoing in the silence.

I hear footsteps coming from the entrance, and I tense, already feeling my temper flare at the thought of one of my brothers coming to check on me. But when I look up, it’s not Luca or Matteo.

It’s her, and she’s wearing a tight red dress that has my cock’s attention.

Barefoot, she walks slowly toward me with one hand behind her back, looking at me with that maddeningly calm expression, like she knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly what she’s set in motion.

But that’s not what catches me off guard.

It’s the red streaked across her skin; dark crimson stains that cover her hand, her arms, even a smear across her cheek. And she’s grinning, a wide, almost feral smile that sends a thrill down my spine.

Before I can even process the sight of her, she throws something at my feet. It hits the concrete with a dull thud, rolling once before settling.

A lipstick tube.

“She touched you,” she says, her voice calm, unbothered. As if she hasn’t just strolled in here looking like she walked out of a damn crime scene.

I stare at the lipstick, the words sinking in slowly, my mind piecing it together. It was the girl from the bar, the one I’d used to get under her skin, to test her, to see if she’d crack.

A slow smile spreads across my face as I take a step closer, my gaze locked on hers. Her grin doesn’t waver as I step closer, but her other hand—still behind her back—lifts. The glint of metal catches my eye just before I feel the cool press of a knife againstmy throat. She’s fast, faster than I expect, and for a second, I freeze.

“Why?” she whispers, her voice low and far more dangerous than any scream. Her eyes burn into mine, and for the first time in a long time, I feel the edges of my control fray.

“Why what?” I ask, my voice calm, though the tension coils in my gut like a live wire. My smirk remains, baiting her, pushing her, because I can’t help it.

“Why did you let her touch you?” she asks, her tone cold. The tip of the knife presses harder against my throat, enough to prick but not break skin. Her hand doesn’t tremble—not even a little. “Why did you let another woman think she could have you?”

My smile widens as I realize she came undone faster than I thought. She’s finally here, finally embracing the darkness that’s always been simmering beneath the surface.

“So, are you’re saying someone needed a reminder of who I belong to?”

Her head tilts as she studies me, her chest rising and falling with sharp, controlled breaths. From this close, I can see the tiny mists of blood on the side of her face. The smear of blood across her cheek makes her look like some avenging angel dipped in sin. It makes my cock harden to fucking steel.

“I don’t like sharing,” her gaze holds mine, unapologetic. “I think she got the message loud and clear.”

Her eyes burn into mine, full of betrayal, fury, and possession. She presses the knife a little harder, enough that I feel the sharp sting of it. I reach my hand reaching out to brush a streak of red on her cheek, smearing it across her skin. “Tell me what you did, baby.”

She closes her eyes briefly, leaning into my touch, her expression softening for just a second before that glare returns. “I went to her house, and she met the wrong end of this knife,” she says calmly.

I feel a dark thrill roll through me, satisfaction mixing with disbelief as I realize what’s happening, what this means. “You’re fucking insane, baby,” I say, a grin pulling at my own lips. “Took you long enough.”

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