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

46. His Sinner

Chapter forty-six

His Sinner

I’m sitting across from Mason in his cozy, dimly lit dining room, watching him pour wine with that same easy, reliable smile that drew me to him in the first place. He’s saying something about work, his voice calm, steady, but I can barely hear him.

My thoughts are a mess, tangled with Dominic, with the pieces of myself that have started surfacing, memories clawing their way to the front of my mind, refusing to stay buried.

It’s time. I know it. I need to end this with Mason. But the words feel like lead in my mouth. He’s good—stable, everything I thought I wanted.

And that’s exactly the problem. He’s the life I’m supposed to have, the life I’ve convinced myself is the right one, the safe one. Lately, safe has started to feel more like suffocating, and my mind is miles away, lost in memories I’m not sure I can ignore anymore.

Mason gives me a warm smile as he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. “You okay? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

I force a smile, nodding, even though every part of me feels disconnected, out of place. “Yeah, I’m… I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

His eyes soften, and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Well, I actually have something for you. I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

He gets up and walks over to a drawer, rummaging around for a moment before he returns, holding a small, dark blue box. He looks a little nervous, like he’s not sure how I’ll react.

“Go on,” he insists, and I don’t have the heart to refuse.

I untie the ribbon, flipping open the box to reveal a delicate cross pendant, identical to the one my mother gave me years ago. The one Dominic pulled from my neck right before he told me to run.

The one Dominic wears now.

My breath catches, my heart pounding as memories flood in, sharp and raw, tearing through every wall I’ve built.

I’m back in the cells with Dominic, refusing to leave because there, in that confined, dark place, I had him all to myself. I remember his voice, dark and low, calling me his “Little Sinner” with a smirk that sent a shiver down my spine

“If I’m a Little Sinner, what does that make you?”

He smirked, that possessive glint in his eye, leaning close, his voice a low growl. “Your Sin.”

Another flash—me with blood on my hands, the guard’s face frozen in shock as I plunged a knife into him, the way Dominic watched me with a twisted pride, like he’d always known this side of me was there, waiting to be set free.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he said, pulling me close and kissing me so hard that I tasted blood.

And then the escape. Dominic pulled the pendant from my neck before I ran from him after I figured out why I was there with him.

Why I was really there…

And then therapy. Sessions where they told me what I felt was Stockholm Syndrome. That it was wrong, that what I experienced wasn’t real love but some twisted coping mechanism. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. I knew it was something darker, something I wanted, even if I’d spent years trying to convince myself otherwise.

Mason’s voice brings me back, his eyes watching me with concern. “Aria? You okay?”

I swallow, trying to steady my breath, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Do you remember what you said a few weeks ago? About women who like being… degraded?”

He frowns, looking confused. “What?”

“You said they probably needed therapy. That they were… unwell, or desperate.” The words come out flat, and I watch as his face twists in confusion, then concern.

“Aria, that’s… that was just an offhand comment,” he says, reaching out to take my hand, but I pull back, clutching the cross pendant, feeling the memories it drags up with it. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Well,” I say, letting out a shaky breath, “maybe you were right. Because I think I definitely need therapy. But not the kind you think.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback, struggling to find the right words. “What are you talking about?”

I can’t keep it in anymore. The memories, the realization—they’ve cracked something open, and there’s no going back. I look him dead in the eye, my voice soft, but firm.

“What I want… it’s not what you can give me, Mason. I thought I could live this life, play the role of the good girl, the one who settles down, who stays safe.” I swallow hard, feeling the truth settle in. “But that’s not who I am.”

“Aria…” His voice is barely more than a whisper, his face a mask of shock and hurt. “Where is this coming from? I thought we… I thought you were happy.”

“Maybe I was, for a while,” I admit. “But this?” I gesture between us, at the cozy, predictable life he’s offered. “This isn’t me. And it’s not fair to either of us to keep pretending it is.”

He stares at me, and I can see the hurt settling into his eyes, the realization that I’m serious, that this isn’t just some passing moment.

“So… what are you saying?” His voice cracks, and I hate that I’m the one causing this, that I’m tearing apart the life he thought we were building.

“I’m saying I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend that I want this, that I’m cut out for this. You deserve someone who does, someone who’ll love you the way you deserve. But that person… it’s not me.”

The hurt on his face makes me feel guilty, but it’s nothing compared to the dark excitement simmering beneath the surface. Knowing I’m finally letting go of this lie, finally embracing the part of me I’ve kept hidden for so long.

The part Dominic pulled out of me.

“Is there someone else?” he asks, sounding defeated.

I pause, the truth lingering on the edge of my tongue, but I can’t say it, can’t bring myself to hurt him more than I already have. “It’s not about someone else. It’s about me. About what I need.”

He stares at me, the hurt deepening in his eyes, the shock giving way to anger. “So that’s it? You’re just… leaving?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand, but this… this isn’t fair to either of us.”

He stands there, clenching his jaw, looking like he’s about to say something, but then he just shakes his head. “Fine. If that’s what you want, Aria. Go.”

I take one last look at him, feeling a strange sense of finality, of letting go of a life I never really wanted.

“Goodbye, Mason,” I say quietly, turning and walking out, the pendant pressing against my hand a constant reminder of everything I’ve remembered, everything I’m ready to embrace.

As I step outside, the night air hits me, cold and sharp, and I feel a twisted sense of relief. I’ve been lying to myself, pretending I could live a life that wasn’t meant for me. But now… now I’m ready to face the truth, to face the part of me that’s been waiting in the shadows.

And for the first time in years, I don’t feel afraid. I feel… free.