Page 63 of The Sin Binders Ascent

The one I’d felt, even locked away. Whisper-light at first. Like an itch beneath the skin. Then stronger, more persistent. And thenneedful.

She reached for me in her sleep. Shehungered, and the world answered by waking me up.

So now I’m here. Shoved into a house with the ones who locked me away, playing nice while they all pretend this isn’t driving them insane. And her? She can’t decide whether she wants to set me on fire or straddle my lap and make me confess everything I’ve ever done wrong.

I’ll take either.

“Did you know,” I murmur aloud, voice just low enough to carry across the room to her curled spine, “that the last person I saw before I was locked away looked exactly like you?”

She doesn’t respond, but shelistens. I feel it in the bond between us. Not a real one. Not like the ones the others have with her. No,this thing, this cuff, it’s worse. Closer. Rawer. It tethers me not just to her body, but to her heartbeat. Herlonging.

“She didn’t flinch either,” I continue lazily. “Tried to kill me with a dagger shaped like a serpent. Didn’t work. But it was cute.”

I hear her shift under the blankets. I smile wider.

Let them all keep grumbling, keep threatening to slit my throat in my sleep. Let Luna spit fire and shove me down mudbanks and curse the gods for my existence.

I’m here now.

And I’mnotleaving.

They were supposed to be mybrothers. That word tastes like ash now,bitter, clinging, rotted through with the lie of it. I trusted them. Not blindly. I was never that naive. But I believed in the bond we shared, forged in the beginning, before Luna, before this world was even shaped into something worth ruining.

We were the first. Born of vice, carved from flaw, gifted form by the old magics that pulsed beneath creation. We bled together. Raged together.Builtthis realm together.

And they turned on me.

Lucien, with his fucking icy dominion and that voice that always made others kneel,he used it on me like I was just another rebel to command into submission. Caspian, with all his smirks and seductive games, was the first to vote me out. Said I was “dangerous,” like he hadn’t whispered worse things in the dark. Ambrose made it sound like a negotiation. Diplomatic. Logical. As if handing me over to a cell of nothingness was just a consequence of keeping their precious balance.

EvenRiven. Wrath incarnate. The one who I thought wouldunderstandwhat it was to feel too much. To love so violently it scorched everything. He looked at me like I was broken. Said I was too far gone.

But the worst?

Orin. Wise, patient, infuriating Orin. His was the only voice I waited for. The only one that might’ve stopped it. But he said nothing. Just lowered his eyes and let it happen.

Their betrayal wasn’t a knife in the back. It was a blade slid between my ribs, turnedslow. They didn’t just lock me away. Theystrippedmy name from the records, buried my existence like I was a myth, an inconvenient truth they didn’t want Luna discovering. Because what would she say if she knew her perfect seven were onceeight?

What would she do if she realized theyliedto her every day for thirty years?

The same way they lied to me.

The fury boils under my skin now, molten and patient. Not the kind that explodes. No. I’ve had eons to learn towait. My anger is quiet now. Refined. It wears a smile and speaks softly, but it’s there,festering. Growing. Biding its time like a storm crouching just over the horizon.

They think this is temporary. A mistake to fix. A cuff to remove.

But they forget who I am. Desire doesn’tleave. It lingers. Corrodes. Devours. And no matter how much they want to protect her from me,no matter how much they rage and grumble and hover like loyal dogs,I’m already inside.

Not her body. Not yet. But herthoughts? That’s where I live now. And they can't chain that.

My back shifts against the floor with a faint groan, the blanket barely cushioning the hardwood. She’d tossed it at me like I was a goddamn stray. Fine. Let her play indifferent. Let her act like she wasn’t rattled every time our wrists so much as tugged. But I can feel it,under her irritation, beneath the frustration that boiled in her movements.

She iscurious.

Not aboutme. Not yet.

But aboutwhy.

Why the cuff hadn’t burned me away like it should’ve. Why my presence makes the others uncomfortable. Why her pulse jumps whenever I lean too close, even if her mouth says “no.”