Page 86 of The Sin Binders Ascent

The cold gets into places I didn’t know it could reach. Not just my skin. Not just the marrow of my bones. It sinks in deeper than that, a quiet rot curling in the hollows where their voices used to echo.

I pull my arms tighter around my knees, trying to shrink, trying to keep myself in one piece. But I can’t. Not without them.

They’re more than just a bond. They’re my breath, my balance, my gravity. Without Lucien’s impossible steadiness, Orin’s ancient patience, Elias’s dark jokes, Silas’s chaos, Caspian’s touch, Ambrose’s hunger, Riven’s fury… without all of them pressing in on me, pushing and pulling like tide and moon and storm, I feel like I’m unraveling. Slowly, thread by aching thread.

He saved me. But not because he cares. That’s the truth of it. And that’s what burns. He couldn’t have left me behind. The chain would’ve dragged him, too. So he swam. So he pulled. Sohe helped. Not for me. Not because he wanted to. Because he had no fucking choice.

It doesn’t matter that he looked scared. It doesn’t matter that his arms were steady around me, that he never let go even when the current turned black and the water tasted like ash. It doesn’t matter, because obligation isn’t the same thing as love. It's not even kindness.

I glance sideways at him. He’s too still. His chest rises, slow, careful, like he knows I’m watching and doesn’t want to make it worse. His lashes are dark against his cheeks, and the blue of his eyes is dulled by the cold and the strange light curling through the cave vines. He’s infuriatingly beautiful. Like a lie dressed up in want.

But he’s not mine.

And I don’t want him.

I want Riven’s voice rumbling against my neck as he pulls me back into bed. I want Lucien’s gaze pinning me in place like I’m the only thing worth watching in a world full of shadows. I want Silas’s dumb songs, Elias tripping over his words, Orin murmuring ancient truths against my skin. I want Caspian’s heat. Ambrose’s hunger. I want the chaos of all of them, the maddening, sacred everything of them.

My chest tightens again, and I press my forehead to my knees. I want my family.

I grit my teeth. Don’t cry. Don’t give him that.

He might be stuck with me, but that doesn’t make us allies. It doesn’t make us anything. The bond he’s trying to crawl inside doesn’t belong to him. He can drag me through rivers and monsters and blood, but he will never be one of them. And if he thinks this world will change that, he’s fucking wrong.

I clench my fists, and the dirt beneath me shifts. Something moves beneath it. Not alive. Not dead. Just watching. Waiting. Like the entire world is holding its breath.

I wonder if they’re trying to reach me. If my guys are tearing through realms to find me. If Riven is screaming. If Lucien is losing his mind in that quiet, frozen way that he does when things don’t go according to his plan.

If they’re hurting like I am. If they feel this emptiness, too. Because if they don’t, if I’m the only one feeling it….Gods, I can’t finish that thought.

I swallow hard, force the next breath through lungs that feel carved from stone, and blink back tears that sting like salt.

They’ll come for me.

They have to.

Theo shifts closer, his body heat bleeds toward me in steady pulses, irritatingly comforting. He leans back on his elbows and sighs, like we’re lounging at a spa instead of huddled in the throat of some nightmare realm. His voice slices into the quiet with a lazy, infuriating grin.

“You know,” he drawls, “I did save your life back there.”

I don’t look at him. I’m still trying to wrestle my breathing under control, still trying to keep from clawing the earth open beneath me and screaming into it. But he doesn’t stop.

“I mean, technically, I didn’t have to be that heroic. I could’ve just let the bugs get you while I drifted dramatically into the void. Would’ve been poetic. But I’m selfless like that.”

My jaw tics. I bury my hands deeper in the cold soil, my fingers curling into it, grounding myself. It doesn’t help much. Neither does his voice, though it fills the space like warm smoke.

“And honestly,” he continues, ticking points off on his fingers now, “you should be thanking me. Not just for the rescue, but for the view. I’m a delight to look at. These cheekbones? Sharp enough to gut a man. My hair’s got that just-rolled-out-of-bed mess that screams, I don’t care, but I secretly do. Eyes? Oceanic. You could drown in them. And this body? Lean, strong,designed by desire itself. I’m a walking sex dream, Luna. Own up to it.”

I stare at him flatly. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“Trying to lighten the mood,” he says with a shrug. “You were brooding so hard I thought the cave might collapse under the weight of your existential crisis.”

“I wasn’t brooding.”

“You were very much brooding. Borderline melodramatic. Very woe-is-me, my-lovers-are-gone, whatever-shall-I-do. Pretty sure I saw a tear sparkle.”

I throw a pebble at him. He lets it hit his chest and makes a sound like I’ve wounded him. His eyes flick to mine, that same smirk curving his mouth, but there’s something quieter under it now. Not soft. Not kind. Just… aware. Like he’s watching every crack spider out through my armor and not mocking it for once.

“You’re kind of a bastard,” I mutter.