Page 79 of Until You Break

Chapter fifty

Her Ruin

Later that night, asthe room fell into silence and the only sound was the faint rustling of the sheets, I lay awake beside her, her body curled into mine. Her warmth presses against me, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed.

Luca’s voice from before echoes in my head, his words from years ago like a fucking prophecy:“One day, you’ll love someone, Dominic. And when you do, it’ll fuck you up. You’ll fight it, but it’ll eat you alive.”

I didn’t believe him then. I thought love was a weakness that could be exploited. But now? Now I understand exactly what he meant.

Because it does fuck you up. It tears down every wall you’ve built, leaves you raw and exposed in ways you didn’t think possible. And no matter how much you try to fight it, it digs in, buries itself so deep that you couldn’t rip it out even if you wanted to.

I love her. I’ve loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her, even if it took me this long to admit it. And it’s not the kind oflove that heals. It’s not soft, or easy, or fucking pure. It’s dark and twisted and obsessive, and it consumes every part of me.

Aria stirs in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she burrows closer into my chest. I tighten my hold on her, my lips brushing against her temple as I whisper again, “I love you.”

This time, the words feel different. Not just an admission but a promise. A warning. A vow. Because now that I’ve said it, there’s no going back.

With another kiss to the side of her head, I make my way downstairs, the faint creak of the old wood under my boots filling the silence. It’s late, and the garage is quiet, but I know my brothers. They’re night owls, always finding a reason to linger around with a beer in hand.

Sure enough, I step into the living room, and there they are—Matteo sprawled across the couch, Luca leaning against the pool table, both of them grinning like they’ve got something on me.

“Good night?” Matteo asks, raising a brow as he takes a lazy sip of his beer. His smirk is wide, like he already knows the answer.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen counter and twisting the cap off. I can feel their eyes on me, their amusement practically vibrating through the air.

Luca chuckles, shaking his head. “She must’ve been something, huh? You’ve got that post-Aria glow.”

I shoot him a glare, but it only makes them laugh harder. “You two are idiots,” I growl, but the corner of my mouth twitches despite myself.

They live to give me shit, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Matteo leans forward, setting his beer down on the table. “So, what’s the deal? You finally lock her down, or are you still playing this fucked-up game of tag?”

I take a long sip of water, debating how much to tell them. But there’s no point in holding back. They’re my brothers—they’d figure it out anyway.

“She killed Mandy,” I say flatly, watching their reactions.

There’s a beat of silence before Matteo lets out a low whistle, his grin stretching even wider. “Damn. Didn’t think she had it in her.”

“Clearly, you underestimated her,” I say, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms. “She showed up here, covered in blood, grinning like she’d just won the fucking lottery and held a fucking knife to my throat for touching another woman.”

Matteo stares at me, wide-eyed, for all of two seconds before bursting into laughter. The kind of laughter that shakes his whole body, the kind that pisses me off instantly.

“Jesus Christ, Dom,” he says, leaning back against the couch, wiping at his eyes. “You’ve got yourself a fucking psychopath, and you’re standing there like it’s just another Tuesday.”

“She’s not a psychopath,” I growl, though my voice lacks conviction. I know how it sounds, but hearing Matteo say it like that grates on my nerves.

“Not a psychopath?” Matteo repeats, his grin returning full force. “Brother, she killed the woman you used to make her jealous, strolled in here dripping in blood, and stuck a knife to your throat for looking at said woman. If that’s not the definition of batshit crazy, I don’t know what is.”

“Shut up, Matteo,” I growl, but there’s no real heat behind it. He’s already laughing, and I know he’s about to make it worse.

“No, seriously,” he says, sitting up, his grin refusing to falter. “You’ve got to see the poetry here. You play your little jealousy games, and she turns around and shows you who’s really running shit. I bet you were rock-hard the entire time.”

I glare at him, my arms crossing tighter over my chest. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Matteo laughs louder, slapping the arm of the couch. “Don’t deny it! You love it, Dom. Don’t act like you weren’t standing there thinking, ‘Finally, a woman as crazy as me.’”

Luca smirks from his spot near the pool table, taking a slow sip of his beer.

---