26. His Sinner
Chapter twenty-six
His Sinner
His words sink in, and something cracks open inside me, a dark, hidden part of myself that I’ve kept locked up, buried so deep I almost forgot it was there. But now the memories resurface, forcing me to confront what I’ve tried so hard to erase.
That cell. The smell of damp concrete, the sound of chains, the darkness that felt endless. But it wasn’t just fear I felt back then.
I remember his eyes on me, the intensity, the quiet promise in his gaze as he moved closer, bridging the distance between us like the world outside didn’t matter anymore. The way he held me, made me shake, comforted me and made me scream his name.
I’d let myself slip into it—drawn to the darkness he wore like a second skin.
My heart pounds, a sick realization dawning on me: I didn’t just survive. I became something else in that cell, something I was never able to let go of, something that I buried because facing it would mean admitting that I wasn’t the innocent victim I’d convinced myself I was.
“H-how…? There were bars separating us—”
“Bars? Is that the lie you’ve been feeding yourself?” he laughs and I can see the glint of the tongue piercing I didn’t realise he had until he pinned me. “Aria, we were in one cell together, there were no bars between us.”
The world tilts, his words slamming into me like a punch. I stare at him, confusion swirling with something darker, something I can’t quite name.
“No… no, that can’t be right,” I stammer, shaking my head as if that will clear the fog of memories, as if I can shove them back into the dark corners where I’d buried them. “I remember… I remember the bars. We talked through them, and I was alone until… until you—”
“You remember what you want to remember,” he cuts in, relentless. “You’re clinging to scraps. Little fragments you twisted up to keep yourself comfortable. But comfortable isn’t the truth. We were together, always together , in that cell. No bars. No walls. Just you and me, every night. Fucking like our lives depended on it.”
My breath comes faster, my hands starting to shake. “That… that can’t be. I remember being alone, I remember… I remember you reaching for me through the bars—”
He shakes his head, his smirk sharp. “That’s what you wanted it to be. Something clean, something easy to forget. But the truth is messier than that, isn’t it?”
His words tear at the edges of my control, breaking down every last barrier I’d built to keep him out. “No! I didn’t… I didn’t want that. I was just trying to survive. We were trapped, Dominic. It was… it was all just survival.”
“Survival, huh? Then tell me why’d you come to me? Why’d you let me be the only thing that mattered? Because that wasn’t survival.” He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper, almost tender. “That was surrender.”
I shake my head, my throat tightening. “Stop it! You’re twisting things!”
He lets out a low, mocking laugh. “That’s what you’ve been doing, pretending you didn’t love every minute of it. You wanted it—every touch, every word, every dark little piece of me. Don’t lie to yourself. You weren’t innocent in that cell, Aria. Not even close.”
I feel a shiver run through me, his words hitting me with a brutal clarity. Fragmented memories flash—his fingers tracing patterns on my skin, his fingers curling around my throat, his voice low and possessive as he told me things I wanted to forget.
The way I would sink into him, the way I found comfort in his touch; a dark, twisted comfort I could never admit to anyone, not even myself. I didn’t just fall for him; I’d let myself become wrapped up in him, allowing his darkness to bleed into mine until I didn’t know where he ended and I began.
“No,” I whisper, my voice barely there, even as the truth gnaws at me. “I don’t want to be part of that anymore. I’ve moved on, I’m done with… whatever that was!”
“Bullshit,” he growls. “You can dress it up however you want, pretend you’re this neat little version of yourself, but deep down, you’re still that girl. The one who begged me to be her first because she was a virgin and didn’t want it to be someone else. You can lie to everyone else, but you can’t lie to me.”
At his words, that memory resurfaces. Me, begging him to be my first. I remember how he tried to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t listen. I wanted him to fuck me, to make me forget about the situation we were in.
“Please do it… Please, I’d rather it be you than them.”
“Are you sure? We don’t have to—”
“Dominic, please! Just…. I want this. I want you to be the one.”
I wanted it. I wanted him.
I close my eyes, feeling the tears slip down the side of my face. “Why can’t you just let me go?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer, just watches me. It feels like he’s staking his claim all over again, like he’s branding me with his presence, and making sure I know that whatever I do, wherever I go, he’ll be there. Waiting.
“I’ll leave you alone,” he murmurs, his voice a promise, a threat. “When you finally stop pretending.”