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

47. Her Ruin

Chapter forty-seven

Her Ruin

I’m hunched over my bike, trying to lose myself in the steady rhythm of fixing, tightening, adjusting. Anything to keep my mind off the goddamn ticking clock that seems to echo in my head with every passing hour.

Two days. I gave her three, and she’s still not here.

I feel like a fool for even setting that ultimatum, a desperate man reaching for control he doesn’t have. And now? Now I’m left with nothing but the anger that won’t let up, no matter how much I try to drown it out with work.

I grit my teeth, tightening a bolt harder than necessary until it gives under the force. Damn it. My frustration has been getting the better of me, snapping at Luca and Matteo whenever they come too close.

I’ve caught them giving each other wary glances, keeping their distance like I’m some caged animal ready to rip into anything that moves.

And maybe they’re right. My patience is worn thin, and every minute she’s not here feels like another layer of control slipping away, leaving me with nothing but this raw, gnawing need that refuses to die down.

With a growl, I throw the wrench down, watching as it clatters across the concrete floor, the sound echoing in the silence.

I hear footsteps coming from the entrance, and I tense, already feeling my temper flare at the thought of one of my brothers coming to check on me. But when I look up, it’s not Luca or Matteo.

It’s her, and she’s wearing a tight red dress that has my cock’s attention.

Barefoot, she walks slowly toward me with one hand behind her back, looking at me with that maddeningly calm expression, like she knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly what she’s set in motion.

But that’s not what catches me off guard.

It’s the red streaked across her skin; dark crimson stains that cover her hand, her arms, even a smear across her cheek. And she’s grinning, a wide, almost feral smile that sends a thrill down my spine.

Before I can even process the sight of her, she throws something at my feet. It hits the concrete with a dull thud, rolling once before settling.

A lipstick tube.

“She touched you,” she says, her voice calm, unbothered. As if she hasn’t just strolled in here looking like she walked out of a damn crime scene.

I stare at the lipstick, the words sinking in slowly, my mind piecing it together. It was the girl from the bar, the one I’d used to get under her skin, to test her, to see if she’d crack.

A slow smile spreads across my face as I take a step closer, my gaze locked on hers. Her grin doesn’t waver as I step closer, but her other hand—still behind her back—lifts. The glint of metal catches my eye just before I feel the cool press of a knife against my throat. She’s fast, faster than I expect, and for a second, I freeze.

“Why?” she whispers, her voice low and far more dangerous than any scream. Her eyes burn into mine, and for the first time in a long time, I feel the edges of my control fray.

“Why what?” I ask, my voice calm, though the tension coils in my gut like a live wire. My smirk remains, baiting her, pushing her, because I can’t help it.

“Why did you let her touch you?” she asks, her tone cold. The tip of the knife presses harder against my throat, enough to prick but not break skin. Her hand doesn’t tremble—not even a little. “Why did you let another woman think she could have you?”

My smile widens as I realize she came undone faster than I thought. She’s finally here, finally embracing the darkness that’s always been simmering beneath the surface.

“So, are you’re saying someone needed a reminder of who I belong to?”

Her head tilts as she studies me, her chest rising and falling with sharp, controlled breaths. From this close, I can see the tiny mists of blood on the side of her face. The smear of blood across her cheek makes her look like some avenging angel dipped in sin. It makes my cock harden to fucking steel.

“I don’t like sharing,” her gaze holds mine, unapologetic. “I think she got the message loud and clear.”

Her eyes burn into mine, full of betrayal, fury, and possession. She presses the knife a little harder, enough that I feel the sharp sting of it. I reach my hand reaching out to brush a streak of red on her cheek, smearing it across her skin. “Tell me what you did, baby.”

She closes her eyes briefly, leaning into my touch, her expression softening for just a second before that glare returns. “I went to her house, and she met the wrong end of this knife,” she says calmly.

I feel a dark thrill roll through me, satisfaction mixing with disbelief as I realize what’s happening, what this means. “You’re fucking insane, baby,” I say, a grin pulling at my own lips. “Took you long enough.”

She throws the knife to the floor and reaches up, slipping her arms around my neck. “I can’t be a Sinner without my Sin.”

Fuck me.

It hits me then, like a punch to the fucking throat, that she remembers. Every single twisted, dark memory, all the things she’s shoved down and denied.

The cell, the darkness, the blood on her hands as she killed our men… but more than that, she must remember the beginning. That she started this, that she was the one who turned that innocent crush into something more, something twisted.

She knows now that it wasn’t just chance that put her in my path. I put her there. I arranged everything—planned every single detail—just to be close to her, to make sure she couldn’t escape me, even if it meant building our own prison.

“You remember,” I whisper.

Her smile widens, and there’s a gleam in her eyes that makes my blood rush, makes every dark, twisted part of me flare to life.

“Every bit of it. But the doctors… they made me think it was wrong, that I was wrong, but it wasn’t,” she shakes her head. “It was exactly what I wanted. I just…I twisted the memories to make them seem like I was a victim. I forced myself to forget about you.”

I let out a harsh laugh, the relief and the thrill and the sheer fucking joy flooding through me, stronger than anything I’ve felt in years. “So you know… you know why I did it. You know how deep this goes.”

Her wicked smile sends a thrill through me, her eyes locked on mine.

“Yes. I know that you were the one who set up the kidnapping. I remember figuring it out,” her voice drops, a dangerous edge to it. “And I remember thinking you were mine long before you ever pulled me into that cell.”

“Then why did you run, Little Sinner?” I ask, leaning in close and gripping her chin. “Why did you leave when you knew what we had, what we were?”

She stares at me, unflinching. “Because I wasn’t ready to admit that I wanted you as much as you wanted me. That your obsession was just a mirror of my own. I ran because I knew that once I admitted it… there was no going back. That you’re my reason and my fucking ruin.”

Hearing her say it, hearing her admit it—there’s no feeling like it. It’s like every piece of me that’s been waiting has finally snapped free since the first time I laid eyes on her in that fucking diner.

She didn’t just understand my darkness; she matched it, fueled it, gave it a reason to exist. I tighten my grip on her jaw, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who the fuck I am. Her voice drops to a whisper, her lips brushing against my jaw.

“Do you know what she said to me?”

I don’t answer, my jaw tightening as she pulls back just enough to meet my eyes again.

“She begged,” Aria says, her tone devoid of any emotion, any hint of remorse. “She begged me not to do it. Said she didn’t know you were taken. Said it didn’t mean anything.”

“And?” I ask, my voice rough, my chest tightening with pride and fucking need.

Her grin widens, and she leans in, her teeth grazing my bottom lip. “And I told her she was right. She didn’t mean anything. But I wanted her to understand that I do.”

“What now, Little Sinner?” I ask, lapping at her lips with my tongue. “What’s your next move? You’ve remembered what we are. So what are you going to do about it?”

She tilts her head, feigning thoughtfulness, but the fire in her eyes betrays her.

“That depends,” she says slowly. “Are you going to punish me for running? Or reward me for coming back?”

I laugh, the sound vibrating in the space between us. “Who says I can’t do both?”

Her breath hitches, just barely, but I catch it. Her composure slips for a fraction of a second, and it’s enough to send a thrill through me. Because for all her defiance, for all her darkness, she’s still mine to unravel.

Mine to break apart and put back together.

I don’t give her a chance to say anything else. My lips collide with hers, hard and demanding, a battle for dominance that neither of us is willing to lose.

She tastes like sin and salvation all at once. Her nails dig into the back of my neck as she pulls me closer, as if she’s desperate to prove something, to claim me the way I’ve always claimed her.

When we finally pull apart, both of us are breathing hard, our gazes locked. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed, and the streaks of red on her skin look even more vivid in the harsh light of the garage.

She’s a fucking masterpiece of chaos and carnage, and I’ve never wanted anything more.

“This time, you don’t get to leave,” I murmur, my voice rough, edged with a possessive fury that feels like fire in my veins. “You run, I’ll find you. You fight, I’ll fuck you ‘til the only word you know is my name. You’re mine, Aria. Always have been.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into that dangerous, beautiful smile. “Took me a while, but I finally realized… I don’t want to run anymore.” Her voice drops, a dark gleam in her eyes as she looks up at me. “I want what’s mine.”

“Then come and take it,” I whisper, daring her.

She stands there, her chest heaving, blood smeared on her arms and her clothes, looking like a fucking nightmare made flesh—and my perfect dream. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I knew she was beneath all the bullshit she tried to hide behind.

Without hesitation, she launches herself at me, her legs wrapping around my waist, her arms around my neck as her lips crash against mine. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s teeth and desperation and a hunger that feels like it could consume us both.

Her nails rake against my scalp as she pulls me closer, like she’s trying to crawl inside me, and fuck if I don’t want the same. My hands grip her thighs, squeezing the softness I’ve craved, the warmth I’ve missed, and I spin us around, slamming her back against the hood of the nearest car.

The metallic clang echoes in the garage, but she doesn’t flinch—no, she laughs, dark and breathless, her head tipping back as she looks up at me with that dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“Fuck,” I mutter against her lips, pulling back just enough to look at her, to see the fire in her eyes, the blood still streaked on her skin like a badge of honor. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

She grins, her fingers threading through my hair as she tugs me closer. “Perfect for you, maybe,” she says, breathless. “We’re both too fucked up for anyone else.”

My hands grip the soft flesh of her thighs, spreading her wide as I lean over her, my lips brushing against her ear. Her breath catches, and I feel her shiver beneath me, her hands gripping my shoulders as I pin her to the hood of the car.

I kiss her again, hard and deep, pouring every ounce of frustration, desire, and obsession into it. She moans into my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders, and it only spurs me on. My hands roam over her body, gripping, squeezing, leaving no inch untouched.

“Dominic,” she gasps, her voice breathless, and fuck, it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. “Please…”

“Say it,” I growl, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “Say what I want to hear, Aria.”

Her lips part, her eyes blazing with defiance and surrender all at once. “Yours,” she whispers, her voice trembling but sure. “I’ve always been yours.”

“Damn right you are,” I mutter against her mouth. “And I’m yours, Little Sinner. Every fucked-up, ruined piece of me. It’s all yours.”

Fuck, I can breathe again. This is where we’re meant to be—together, tangled in the chaos we’ve created, owning it, owning each other.

And fuck if I’m ever letting her go again.