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

13. His Sinner

Chapter thirteen

His Sinner

By the time I make 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.

But what exactly did they mean? What happened to him after he told me to run? Did he get taken back to the hell we’d escaped from? Sold? The thought twists in my stomach, a sickening feeling that gnaws at my anger, turning it into something raw.

I can’t let them scare me off—not after everything.

I drop my bag onto the desk, pacing back and forth, trying to figure out my next move, how I can dig deeper without bringing more of Luca and Matteo’s hostility down on me. The whole encounter has left me rattled, my nerves shot, but determination presses down hard on my shoulders. There’s no way I’m letting this go now. Not when I’m so close.

That’s when I notice it.

My laptop, which I’m sure I left closed when I headed out, is now open. I freeze, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling as I take a step closer, dread creeping in as I process what’s in front of me.

The picture of Dominic and his brothers is still up on the screen, the grainy image of Luca and Matteo standing in front of the garage, their arms crossed, a faint smirk on Matteo’s face. My gaze drops to my keyboard, and that’s when I see a single piece of paper lying across the keys.

I reach out, my fingers trembling as I lift it, my heart pounding as I read the words scrawled in a handwriting I don’t recognize.

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light.

I swallow hard, the quote striking me in a way that feels both familiar and strange, like a memory brought to life. It’s my favorite line, the poem I recited to Dominic when he wanted to get to know me better. It was the one thing that reminded me I still had a soul, that maybe there was something brighter waiting beyond the nightmare we were in.

My hands tremble as I turn it over, then my heart fucking drops.

Don’t cry, Little Sinner.

The breath leaves my lungs, and I grip the note tightly, the words blurring for a second as I struggle to comprehend. Little Sinner . The nickname he gave me because of my faith and the fact that I wanted to be a lawyer.

I glance at the screen, and there’s the image of Luca and Matteo, staring back at me from their grainy photo outside the garage. It’s as if he wanted me to see it, to know he’s watching, that he hasn’t let me go.

Every instinct tells me it’s a warning, a reminder of everything he knows, everything he still holds over me.

Without wasting a second, I pull up the security footage on my laptop, my fingers shaking as I click through the timestamps. Each video is painfully quiet, every empty frame filled only by the dim glow of my office as the hours tick by.

But something’s off—the footage skips, a gap in the time that wasn’t there when I reviewed it earlier this week. A loop. Someone’s tampered with it, but I’m not sure if they were careful enough to cover every second.

I slow down, replaying one frame, then the next, until something catches my eye—a flicker, just a shadow, but enough to make my breath hitch. I go back, slowing the footage down, rewinding again, until I see it.

There, in the corner of the screen, just a flash of movement before the timestamp jumps, barely visible but unmistakable.

A face stares back at me, framed by a dark hood, the glow of a blue LED-stitch mask lighting up the screen with an eerie grin. I freeze, my entire body going cold as I stare into the mask. The neon stitches forming a twisted, mocking smile, the eyes hollow and empty, fixed directly on the camera.

Watching me. It’s a face I know all too well.

The sight sends a shiver down my spine, my hand flying to cover my mouth as I feel the air thicken, my pulse racing. I recognize that mask. How could I forget it? It was the mask that haunted my nightmares, the mask of the man who took me, the mask that stood as a symbol of my darkest memories.

Somehow I know these aren’t my captors… But Dominic himself.

He wanted me to find this, to see him, to know that he’s closer than I ever imagined. That he’s right here, still holding me in his grip, the same way he did back in that cell.

I replay the footage again, leaning closer, every nerve on edge as I watch the loop, over and over, hoping to catch another glimpse of him, something that might tell me more. But it’s just the mask, staring, unblinking, as if he’s waiting for me to see him, to understand the message he left behind.

I clench my fists, my voice barely a whisper as I speak into the empty room. “Why come back now?”

But of course, there’s no answer, only the steady hum of the computer, the silent blue glow of that grin staring back at me.