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Riven mutters something under his breath about cutting Elias’ tongue out, and honestly, I might let him.

I straighten, letting the weight of my power bleed into the room, pulling them all back to me. “This isn’t about how bad Silas is in bed.”

“Hey—”

I don’t even spare him a glance. “It’s about the fact that the Hollow doesn’t let anything stay buried. And if one Binder has found her way back, it won’t stop there.”

The smile slides right off Elias’ face.

Good. They need to understand that what’s coming for us isn’t something we can outdrink, outlaugh, or fuck our way around.

I glance at the door, already hearing Luna’s footsteps in my head, the inevitable way she’ll look at me when she finds out.

I’ll have to tell her. Because it won’t just be Silas’ sins coming back to collect.

It will be all of ours.

The room is too damn small for all of us. It always is when we’re forced to breathe the same air and face the consequences of the shit we left behind. The fire crackles in the corner like it’s listening, the low hum of something inevitable threading through the space as I lean back against the warped wooden table, arms crossed, gaze dragging over each of them.

Orin clears his throat, drawing out a piece of parchment and a thin quill from the inner pocket of his coat like he’s known this was coming. Because of course he did.

I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Let’s make the list.”

Silas groans dramatically. “Gods, we’re really doing this.”

“Yes,” I bite out, voice sharp enough to slice. “We’re doing this because I refuse to be blindsided by another Binder crawling out of the shadows, and apparently, you idiots fucked half of them.”

Elias snorts. “Three-fourths.”

Riven mutters something murderous under his breath.

Orin dips the quill in ink without looking up. “Names and descriptions.”

I glance at Silas first. “Start.”

Silas slumps lower in his chair but rattles them off like he’s reciting a grocery list. “Taliah, obviously. Then there was Selene—black hair, big green eyes, very stabby. Uh… Circe—red hair, about my height, kleptomaniac tendencies.”

“Circe tried to drown me once,” Caspian mutters without lifting his gaze from the parchment.

“Good times,” Silas replies.

Orin’s quill scratches across the page.

Elias leans back, lifting a hand like he’s in a classroom. “Sienna. You all remember Sienna.”

Riven groans. “She set the library on fire because you wouldn’t call her back.”

Elias grins. “What can I say? I’m unforgettable.”

“Name,” Orin prompts.

Elias rattles off three more. “Mirielle—blonde, sweet, probably plotting homicide. I think she tried to poison Ambrose once.”

“She did,” Ambrose confirms dryly.

“Amara,” Elias continues. “Brown hair, brown eyes, cried a lot after.”

Riven snorts darkly. “That narrows it down.”