Until You Break (The Devout and the Damned #1)

1. His Sinner

Chapter one

His Sinner

I shouldn’t have taken this route.

I know it’s stupid, but I was dead on my feet and after another long night at the diner, I just wanted to get home. My shift dragged on, as usual, and all I want now is to collapse on my bed and pretend I’m not drowning in essays and readings.

Law school waits for no one—not even a twenty-year-old girl just trying to keep her head above water.

I adjust the strap of my backpack, slinging it tighter over my shoulder. The street is silent except for the crunch of my boots on the pavement. There’s no one around, and I feel a strange calm in the quiet, the kind you only find when you’re truly alone. I let out a sigh, my breath clouding in the air, and push forward, counting the steps that will take me to the small apartment I call home.

Then I hear a scuff of a boot behind me. It’s faint, almost like my mind’s playing tricks, but I stop in my tracks, glancing over my shoulder. There’s nothing. The empty road stretches behind me, and I shake my head, convincing myself I’m just tired and jumpy.

I force myself to keep walking, my pace a little quicker, telling myself it’s nothing. But then it comes again—this time, a little louder, a steady rhythm behind me. The sound hits my gut, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My heart pounds, a little faster than it should, and I reach into my coat pockets, one hand closing around the small canister of mace and the other around a taser I keep in case of situations like this.

It’s probably nothing. Someone else walking home, just like me. But I know better than to ignore that gnawing feeling at the base of my spine, the one that whispers, You’re not alone. Run.

I don’t run, though. Not yet. I just walk faster, gripping the mace so tight I can feel the cold metal bite into my skin. The footsteps quicken too, matching my pace, like some twisted echo.

It’s no coincidence. I know it’s not. Every cell in my body screams at me to run, but I force myself to keep calm, to keep walking like I haven’t noticed. Maybe he’ll give up if I don’t react, if I just keep going.

But the sound is too close now, each step hitting like a drumbeat in my chest. The footsteps grow faster, closing the distance with every second, and I know it’s anything but nothing.

I spin around, pulling out the mace, my voice steady even though my hands are shaking. “Back off!”

The figure stops a few feet away, just beyond the glow of the streetlamp, hidden in shadows. For a moment, I can’t make out anything except his outline—a tall, broad figure, shoulders squared, standing perfectly still. My heart skips a beat, my body tensing as I grip the mace tighter, ready to spray.

Then he steps forward, just enough that the light catches on his face, or what should be his face. He’s wearing a mask—neon blue, stitched like something out of a nightmare. It’s one of those Halloween masks, the kind that glows in the dark, with twisted stitches curving around the eyes and mouth, forming a smile that’s all wrong. The mask grins at me, and a chill races down my spine when he stops close and tilts his head to the side.

“Stay back,” I warn again, forcing strength into my voice. I take a step back, holding the mace up higher, and I can feel my heartbeat hammering in my throat. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Trouble found you, princess.”

The voice distorted, like it’s being run through some kind of voice modulator and the robotic tone chills me to the bone. I don’t wait for him to get any closer. I spray the mace, aiming straight for the eye holes of that twisted mask. He jerks back, but I catch him just enough that he curses, his voice slipping through the modulator, low and furious. I take the opportunity and turn, ready to run, but he’s on me in a heartbeat.

His gloved hand grabs my arm, yanking me back with a strength that makes me stumble. My fingers fumble for the taser, but he twists my arm, making me cry out as the taser slips from my grip and clatters to the ground.

“Let go of me!” I scream, twisting and kicking, but he just tightens his hold, pulling me off balance.

I try to kick him, my knee connecting with something solid, but it only seems to anger him. He grabs me with both hands now, one clamping down on my arm, the other gripping my shoulder with bruising force.

“You like to fight, huh?” His voice is dripping with dark amusement. “Makes it more fun.”

I scream, a desperate, raw sound that echoes down the empty street, hoping someone, anyone, will hear me. But the street remains silent, the city swallowed by the night, and his grip tightens as he drags me off the sidewalk, into a dark alley where the light doesn’t reach.

I thrash, digging my nails into his arms, kicking, doing anything I can to break free, but he’s relentless. My bag slips from my shoulder, crashing to the ground, and he doesn’t even flinch. The neon blue grin of his mask glows faintly in the darkness, a twisted mockery of a face staring down at me.

Suddenly I feel a hard blow to the back of my head, and my vision blurs, stars dancing behind my eyes. Pain blossoms, hot and blinding, and my body goes limp, every ounce of strength draining out of me in an instant.

I want to fight, to keep struggling, but my limbs feel heavy, my head spinning as I sink into the dark. The world tilts, fading in and out, and all I can hear is his voice, soft and distorted, a sick echo that follows me into the blackness.

“Sweet dreams, Aria.”

Then… nothing.