25. Her Ruin
Chapter twenty-five
Her Ruin
I slip into her cabin with the same ease as before, moving through the shadows, every inch of me on edge, waiting for that first glimpse of her. It’s become almost too easy, like I belong here, like her life’s just waiting for me to slip back into place and take what’s mine.
It also helps that in my family, I’m the best at getting into places I’m not supposed to be. Houses or Fortune 500 companies, it doesn’t matter to me as long as I get what I want. And Aria has made it so, so easy for me.
Tonight, though, I can tell something’s different. There’s an energy in the air, a kind of tension that pulls at me, making my pulse quicken.
I head down the hall, past the familiar pictures on the walls, the little touches she’s added since I was last here. I find her in the bedroom with her back turned. Her movements are restless, almost like she knows I’m here.
Good. Let her feel it. Let her sense me coming for her.
The second I step into the room, she turns, her eyes widening, a flash of something fierce sparking there. Before I can even smirk, she’s swinging a lamp at me, but I catch the edge of it, yanking it from her grip and tossing it aside as I grab her wrist and throw her on the bed.
She fights me as I get on top of her. shoving her hands against my chest, twisting under my grip. “Get out! I swear to God, I’ll—”
“Yeah?” I cut her off, my grip tightening as I press both of her wrists down against the mattress with one of my hands while the other goes to her neck. “You’ll what? Keep lying to yourself, keep pretending you don’t want me here?”
Her breathing is ragged, her eyes blazing as she struggles beneath me. “Why are you like this? You never used to be so violent with me, you’re not—”
“Not what?” I lean down, watching every flicker of defiance in her eyes. “Not who you remember?”
She presses her lips together, trying to turn her face away, but I catch her chin, forcing her to look at me, forcing her to face the reality she’s been running from.
“Tell me, Aria,” I growl. “Are you sure you’re not just remembering me the way you want to?”
She’s breathing harder now, her gaze searching mine, and I can see the doubt starting to flicker there, the uncertainty creeping in.
“I remember you. I remember… I remember everything.”
“Everything?” I smirk, shaking my head. “I don’t think you do. I think you’ve twisted it all up in your head and made it something it wasn’t so you can pretend you were in control. But you weren’t. Not then, and sure as hell not now.”
She swallows hard, the panic flashing across her face as she tries to pull free, her voice breaking as she whispers, “You weren’t like this. Back then, you were… you were different. You protected me.”
I laugh and press her wrists harder into the bed. “Is that what you tell yourself? That I was some kind of savior, your twisted knight in shining armor?” I lean down until my face is inches from hers. “You’re clinging to a fantasy because you don’t want to face the truth.”
She looks up at me, her eyes wide, searching, trying to find something in my gaze, trying to piece together a story that she’s kept buried.
“You’re lying,” she whispers, her voice barely steady. “I know what happened. We were… we were just surviving. We… you…”
I tighten my grip, feeling her tremble beneath me. “Tell me, Little Sinner, do you really remember, or are you just picking at pieces you twisted to fit what you needed?” I let the words linger, watching as her eyes widen, as the memories start to shift and twist behind her gaze. “Because I remember everything .”
Her voice breaks, her tone pleading. “Then tell me what you remember, Dominic. Tell me, because I don’t understand why you’re doing this!”
I smirk. “Maybe I’m just tired of pretending. Maybe it’s time you remember the truth of us.”
Her breathing catches, her eyes flickering with confusion. “What truth?”
I tilt my head, letting her see the cold satisfaction in my eyes. “Think back, Aria. I wasn’t just a so-called protector. I was so much more than a fucking friend to you.”
I can see it, the cracks forming, the way her eyes dart, like she’s trying to piece it together, like she’s fighting the memories twisting in her mind. And then something shifts, a flash of something buried, something she’s kept locked away.
Her face pales and her body goes still beneath me as her eyes widen.
“No,” she whispers, her voice barely there. “That’s not… that’s not how it was. You were my friend!”
“You think that was friendship? You think that was just some trauma bond you could walk away from? Because I remember you clinging to me, begging me, trembling for me. Do you remember that, Aria? Do you remember just how deep I got into your mind?”
She closes her eyes, her chest heaving, as if trying to block it out, but I don’t let up. I lean closer, my voice a low, taunting whisper.
“You don’t want to remember, because it’ll shatter that neat little story you’ve told yourself. But I was there. I know exactly who you are, who you really are.”
Her eyes snap open, filled with fear and anger, and she looks at me, her voice shaking. “Why are you doing this? Why are you… you already destroyed me once. Isn’t that enough?”
I let out a harsh laugh, feeling the thrill of control, the satisfaction of watching her break.
“Destroyed you? I haven’t even begun, Aria. You think this is hell? You haven’t seen anything yet.” She looks away, as if that’ll somehow protect her, but I grab her chin, forcing her gaze back to mine.
“This is me reminding you that you’re still mine. That you’ve always been mine. And no fiance, no neat little life, is ever going to change that.”
Her mouth opens, like she’s about to argue, to say something defiant, but she just clenches her jaw, her eyes blazing with fury. She’s fighting it, fighting me, but deep down, I know the truth—she’s terrified because she knows I’m right.
She’s held onto this version of herself, pretending she’s over it, but it’s a lie. And I’m about to tear that lie apart.
“You’re sick, Dominic,” she whispers, her voice full of disgust, of anger, but there’s something else, too—something raw and unwilling to let go.
“Maybe I am,” I murmur, shrugging, my grip on her chin tightening just enough to keep her attention, to let her know I’m serious. “But you’re not exactly innocent here, are you? You could have moved on, could have forgotten me. But you didn’t. You’re still here, still letting me slip into your head. Don’t act like you don’t want this, that some twisted part of you isn’t waiting for me to walk through that door.”
She flinches, and it’s like I’ve struck a nerve, like she’s realizing just how deep I’ve sunk into her life, how much she can’t shake me, even if she wants to.
“Just let me go,” she whispers, her voice barely a breath, her eyes pleading. “Please, Dominic. You don’t have to do this.”
I let out a soft laugh, the thrill of control sending a rush through my veins. “Let you go? Now why would I do that, when I’ve got you exactly where I want you?”