45. His Sinner
Chapter forty-five
His Sinner
Lying in bed, I can’t shake the words Dominic threw at me, the challenge in his eyes, the way he practically dared me to come to him, or else.
Three days.
It plays in my head like a countdown I can’t escape. But it’s more than just his ultimatum that keeps me awake, twisting the sheets, my mind spinning with questions I’ve been too afraid to ask.
There’s a haze around those days, the ones we spent locked up together, like my mind put walls around certain memories, keeping them out of reach. And for a while, I’ve told myself it was the trauma, the fear that made me forget, that pushed those memories so far down I couldn’t find them if I tried.
I close my eyes, breathing slowly, letting myself drift back to the nights in those cells. I’d kept myself from thinking about them, from reliving what happened between us there. I’d locked it all up behind thick walls, convinced myself it was better to forget.
But now… now I’m wondering why I did that. Why did I convince myself there were bars between us, when I knew that wasn’t true?
What else am I forgetting?
The memories start to come back in pieces, fragments I can barely piece together.
Dominic, hurt and angry, but always close, always watching me with that same intensity that felt like a brand.
We weren’t separated by bars. We were in the same cell, trapped together, forced into a closeness that felt both terrifying and… right. He was my lifeline in there, the one I clung to when the world felt like it was crumbling.
Dominic told me to remember, to stop pretending, and now I’m starting to understand why.
If I pull back far enough, past the memories in the cell, past the escape… something else starts to surface, a memory I haven’t thought about in years. I shift in bed, my mind slipping further back, to a memory that feels like it belongs to another life.
The first time I saw Dominic.
I was working at the diner when I was still a law student, another endless shift serving coffee and greasy food, barely looking up from the counter. And then he walked in.
Tall, dark hair, piercing green eyes, confident, and impossible to ignore.
He sat at the corner booth with his brothers, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on me, and I felt it—the pull, the spark that would turn my life upside down. God, he was handsome then, just like he is now; intense and quiet, and I remember feeling the thrill that ran through me every time he came in.
I never knew his name back then. He was just a guy, a mystery who made my shifts feel electric. I remember catching myself staring at him once, how he smirked like he knew exactly what was going through my head. It was harmless, just a crush, just one of those passing things.
Or so I thought.
But even now, thinking back, I realize… it wasn’t passing , was it? I would watch the door, disappointed on the nights he didn’t show. My crush on him grew, shifted, became something darker, something that lingered even when he wasn’t around.
Something that made me want to know more about him, even if I had to follow him to find it out for myself. I’d catch myself thinking about him at odd times, wondering what he was doing, what it would be like to talk to him, to have him notice me.
The more I thought about him, the more he consumed me, until he was all I could think about, all I wanted.
And then it hit me, like a slap to the face.
I started this.
This obsession, this twisted connection between us—it wasn’t something Dominic forced on me. It was something I nurtured, something I let grow until it consumed me. I was the one who couldn’t stop thinking about him, who let myself fall deeper and deeper, until he became something more than just a passing interest.
Dominic was just returning the obsession. He let it consume and twist him until he’s become this person who’s willing to destroy anyone or anything that comes between us.
I squeeze my eyes shut, the memories now surging, spilling out with a clarity that scares me.
The nights in that cell, the things we said to each other, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing in his world.
I remember clinging to him, letting him claim every part of me in that cell. How guilty I felt because I didn’t want anyone to find us, that I would rather stay in that fucking cell with him until we both died.
No wonder he’s so relentless... I fucking made him this way.
But why did I push it all down? Why did I convince myself that there were bars, that he was separate, that he wasn’t… in me, as much as I was in him?
Maybe because I didn’t want to face what it meant. That I chose him, even when everything told me I shouldn’t, that some part of me wanted to be his long before he made me his.
That he didn’t just claim me. I let him, willingly, because I needed it, craved it just as much as he did.
And then the escape… what really happened that night? Did he want me to escape, to live a life just so he could pull me back into his orbit when he was ready? Did he know I’d be here, waiting, fighting, even now?
The memory of my escape is still blurry for some reason. I still don’t have all the answers, but one thing is clear. Dominic isn’t the only one caught in this obsession. I am, too.
I’ve been caught since the moment I laid eyes on him, since that first night in the diner. Since he smirked at me like he already knew what I was thinking, like he could read every dark, hidden thought I tried to keep buried.
I lay there, stunned, the realization sinking into me like a weight, making it hard to breathe. I’d always thought of him as the one who pulled me in, who wrapped me up in his darkness, his possessiveness.
But I was wrong. I was the one who lit the fire, and Dominic… he was just feeding it, matching my intensity, giving me back exactly what I’d been asking for.
It’s a terrifying thought, but at the same time, it makes sense in a way I can’t deny. I wanted him. I craved his attention, his presence, even when it scared me.
And he gave it to me, in his own twisted, ruthless way.