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

23. His Sinner

Chapter twenty-three

His Sinner

It’s been a week since that night at the beach house, and Dominic’s gone silent. He hasn’t left any traces, hasn’t snuck in, hasn’t even taunted me with a single look. It’s like he’s vanished into thin air, and the absence feels like a weight pressing down on my chest.

I should be relieved. Hell, Mason’s happy, thinking I’m finally back to myself, that whatever had me on edge these last few weeks has passed. But he’s wrong. The silence, this emptiness Dominic left behind, is eating at me in a way I can’t explain.

I’ve tried to work, tried to pretend everything’s fine, but I can barely concentrate. My mind keeps drifting back to him, to the way he looked at me, like he was claiming me all over again, like he was going to pull me right out of the life I’ve built and into something I can’t control.

And the worst part? I want answers. I want to know why he’s doing this, why he’s come back only to tear apart everything I’ve tried to piece together.

So I make a decision. If Dominic won’t give me answers, then maybe his brothers will. I grab my jacket, helmet and keys, barely thinking as I ride out to the garage, my mind racing with questions, with anger, with the frustration of being left in the dark.

By the time I pull up to the shop two hours later, my hands are shaking and my chest tight with nerves.

Luca and Matteo are outside, standing near the open bay door, beers in hand, chatting like they don’t have a single worry in the world. They spot me the second I pull up, Luca raising an eyebrow while Matteo just leans back, crossing his arms with a cocky smirk that makes my blood boil.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Matteo says, his eyes gleaming with amusement as I march over. “Come for another chat about Dom?”

I don’t have the patience for his games. “Where is he?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intended, but I’m past caring. “Where the hell is Dominic, and why is he doing this?”

Luca glances at Matteo, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them before he turns back to me, taking a slow sip of his beer.

“Doing what, exactly?” he asks, his tone calm, measured, like he’s daring me to spell it out.

“You know exactly what,” I snap, frustration boiling over. “He’s… he’s ruining my life. He’s sneaking into my home and whispering things in my ear, making me feel—”

“Making you feel what?” Matteo chuckles, clearly enjoying every second of this. His eyes are glinting with the same smug satisfaction as Dominic’s.

I glare at him, refusing to take the bait. “Is this a game to you all?” I look between them, my jaw tight. “Because I don’t have time for your bullshit. If he’s trying to mess with me, then he’s succeeding. But I want to know why. Why now after five years?”

Luca sighs, finally setting his beer down on the edge of the workbench, his gaze steady, serious. “Maybe he’s just reminding you of what you’re missing.”

“Or maybe he’s reminding you who you belong to,” Matteo adds, not bothering to hide the smirk spreading across his face.

I scoff, crossing my arms. “I don’t belong to anyone. Especially not him.”

Matteo raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Sure about that? Because the way you’re standing here, demanding answers, desperate to know where he is—doesn’t look like someone who’s moved on.”

I swallow, feeling the anger rise, but I can’t deny the truth in his words. That’s exactly what I’m doing, standing here, practically begging for any clue about Dominic. About why he came back just to vanish again. It’s humiliating, but I need to know.

“Why won’t he just talk to me?” I say, the frustration breaking through, my voice almost a plea. “If he’s trying to prove something, if he wants… I don’t know, closure, or revenge, or whatever, then why can’t he just face me?”

Luca studies me for a long moment before answering. “Maybe he doesn’t want closure. Maybe he doesn’t want revenge. Maybe he just wants you to remember.”

“To remember what?” I snap, barely keeping my voice steady. “What could he possibly be trying to prove by tearing into my life like this?”

Matteo shrugs, his tone almost bored. “That you can’t move on from him. That no matter how much you try to pretend, no one else will ever fill the space he left behind.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “You guys are delusional if you think that’s what’s happening here. He’s a ghost, and he needs to stay that way.”

Luca’s gaze hardens, his voice dropping. “You think he’s just a ghost? A shadow you can shake off?”

“I moved on, and he doesn’t get to just come back and decide I belong to him.”

“You haven’t moved on,” Luca says, shaking his head. “That’s why you’re standing here looking for answers and waiting for him to pull you back in.”

I grit my teeth, anger flaring hot. “I’m here because he’s been haunting my life, not because I want him!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Matteo cuts in, his voice laced with that mocking edge that grates on every last nerve I have. “But we both know the truth. If you really wanted him gone, if you were done, you wouldn’t be here demanding answers like a desperate woman.”

“I just want to understand what he’s trying to do,” I say through gritted teeth. “I don’t want him back.”

“Funny,” Luca murmurs, crossing his arms. “Because it sure as hell sounds like you do.”

I open my mouth, ready to argue, to shout that they’re wrong, that they don’t understand, but the words die in my throat. The truth is, a part of me doesn’t even know why I’m here. I don’t know if it’s anger, desperation, or some twisted form of closure I can’t let go of.

But I know one thing—I can’t keep doing this, can’t keep pretending his absence doesn’t tear me apart, that the silence doesn’t make me ache in ways I can’t explain.

“Then tell him,” I say finally, my voice low, almost defeated. “Tell him to leave me alone. If he’s trying to prove something, then it’s done. I get it. He’s never really left my head, and he’s not going to. But he can’t keep showing up, messing with my life, acting like he has some kind of right to it.”

Matteo smirks, tipping his beer in a mock salute. “I’ll be sure to pass that along, princess.”

“Good,” I bite out, turning on my heel, but Luca’s voice stops me.

“Aria.”

I turn back, my gaze meeting his, and there’s something in his eyes, something almost like pity. “What?”

He shakes his head, a faint, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “Just remember, you’re the one who came looking for him. You’re the one who couldn’t let go.”

The words hit harder than I’d like to admit, and I swallow, trying to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t ask him to come back. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“No,” Luca says, his voice soft, knowing. “But maybe you didn’t have to.”