Page 25 of The Sin Binder’s Chains (The Seven Sins Academy #2)

Looking at Severin is like looking at myself from the outside. It’s not just the resemblance. The sharp jaw, the high cheekbones, the features carved with the same precision, the same cold refinement. It’s in the way he stands, controlled, but just barely.

Because I know that look. I know that pull. The one he’s feeling right now as he tries, and fails, to mask his curiosity. His hunger. His need to see what I brought him.

A woman to bind him.

Layla.

And he cannot help it any more than I can help myself when it comes to Luna.

That pull, the knowing, that awful, undeniable certainty that she might be the one. The one who could unravel everything.The one who could rule them all.

Severin doesn’t speak immediately. He stands there, his body still, but his eyes moving, flicking from me, to Orin, to Elias, and always back to what’s behind us.

I watch it happen in real time.

The moment it clicks for him.

The shift from annoyance to realization.

Because he feels it, the tether stretching between him and her. For the things lurking beneath his command, waiting, starving, needing.

I tip my head slightly, watching his jaw tighten.

The same way mine does when Luna is too close. When I don’t know whether I should step forward, or if it would be too late to step back.

Severin knows he’s been outmatched.

Outplayed.

He may have taken Riven and Silas from me, may have thought that was enough to shift the balance in his favor.

But now?

Now, I have something he wants more. I can see it in the way he stands, controlled, calculating, but just barely. His breathing is measured, his expression carefully neutral, but his body?

His body betrays him. The slight flex of his fingers. The subtle shift of his stance. The way his gaze keeps flicking to the girl behind me, to his Sin-Binder.

Severin exhales through his nose, slow and steady, voice flat as he finally speaks.

"Give her to me."

I lift a brow. He doesn’t dress it up with a demand. Doesn’t make the mistake of commanding me. Because he knows that won’t work.

So he asks. Like he’s negotiating. And maybe he is. Because this is where I play my hand. Because I don’t trust Riven with Layla.

And I need him to release Riven and Silas.

I tip my head slightly, watching him like I’m considering it.

Letting him wonder if I’ll do it.

"No."

His jaw tightens. Just barely.

"Lucien. "

"You took something from me," I murmur, shifting slightly, letting the words settle like a weight between us. "And now I’ve taken something from you."

He knows where this is going.

I can see it in the flicker behind his eyes.

I smile, slow and cold. "I’ll trade you."

His expression doesn’t change.

But I can feel the way his hunger shifts. The way it sharpens. The way he’s already considering it. Because he needs her. And I need them.

And we both know how this is going to end.

"You’re telling me…" Severin’s voice is smooth, measured, and distrustful. As he should be. "If I release them, you’ll give me the girl?"

I smile. Slow. Patient.

Letting him sit with it.

Letting him wonder if I’ll do it.

Because, of course, the answer is no. I cannot, will not, hand Layla over. Not because I care about her. Not because she is innocent. But because doing so would destroy Luna.

And that, that, is something I will not allow. But I don’t have to tell him that. I only need to stall. Because Luna is already looking for them.

I feel it before I even glance at her. That pull, that sharpened focus, the way her breath changes, the way her fingers twitch.

And when I do glance at her.

Her gaze is locked on a window in the fortress.

There.

One of them is there. Silas or Riven. And they’ve seen her. And they know. And they will free themselves.

I drag my gaze back to Severin, who is still watching me, waiting for an answer, his body taut with restraint.

I tip my head slightly.

"Do I look like someone who makes bad deals?" I ask lightly.

He exhales through his nose, unimpressed. "Yes."

Orin shifts beside me, calm and unbothered as ever. Elias makes a quiet choking noise, like he’s physically holding back from saying something deeply stupid.

I ignore them.

Severin is still searching my face, waiting for something he will not get.

Because he knows I am lying. But the problem for him? He still wants to believe me. Because I have something he cannot resist. Because he needs her. So I just stand there, watching, waiting.

And in the distance, just beyond that fortress window.

A shadow moves.

Good.

It’s working.

"You think I don’t see through this?" Severin says, voice smooth, even. Controlled, but only just. "You offer a trade you have no intention of making."

"I never said I had no intention of making it," I murmur, watching the fortress, watching the window where I know they are. "Only that I was willing to discuss the terms."

Severin exhales slowly, annoyed but patient. "And what terms are those, Lucien?"

"Simple." I lift a hand, gesturing absently. "You return what is mine, and you get to walk away with your new prize. No blood spilled. No bodies left to rot in the dirt. A very civil arrangement, don’t you think?"

Severin’s gaze flickers toward Layla again. The pull is too strong, too absolute for him to ignore. And I let him sit in it. Let him drown in the weight of knowing what she is to him.

His fingers flex. His body tenses. He’s so close to saying yes.

"And if I simply take her?"

Orin hums beside me. Elias chokes on absolutely nothing.

I smile. Sharp. Slow. Cold. "Then you’ll be dead before you hit the ground."

Severin laughs under his breath. "How very like you, brother."

"It is, isn’t it?"

A pause.

A waiting game.

A moment stretched too thin.

The window shatters. Glass rains down in glittering shards. A body, a broken, flailing mass, comes hurtling out, slamming into the ground with a brutal, bone-snapping thud.

And before he can even lift his head, Silas is on him.

Malachi barely gets a breath in before fists collide with flesh, before Silas, unhinged, seething, alive with the thrill of violence, is beating the absolute shit out of him.

Severin tenses. Eyes flashing, body coiling.

I simply tip my head.

Smiling, as I watch him lose.

Silas is feral. Which, to be fair, is understandable. He’s been locked up, starved of stimulation, magic, chaos, and whatever has been done to him in that fortress has left him with too much rage and nowhere to put it.

Until now. Until Malachi.

The impact of his fists is vicious, echoing across the open space, each hit precise but unrestrained, not meant to kill, just to hurt. To punish.

And I let him have it. Let him get it out.

At least for now. Luna, however, is already moving toward him.

I don’t blame her. She hasn’t seen him in days, and she’s spent the last two weeks barely holding herself together.

Of course she wants to go to him. Of course she wants to be reassured that he’s alive.

But I already know how this will go. Because Silas is fine.

If he weren’t, he wouldn’t be.

Oh.

There it is. Right as Luna takes another step forward, Silas glances up, mid-punch, grinning like a lunatic, and gives her finger guns. While still kicking Malachi’s ass.

Luna stops so abruptly that I almost laugh.

Severin does not look amused.

Orin, beside me, exhales deeply, the kind of exhale that says we are all better than this, but unfortunately, this is our reality now.

Elias, however, Elias loses it.

"You absolute fucking legend," he wheezes, doubling over, hands on his knees. "That’s, you are, holy shit."

Silas, without missing a beat, lifts a bloody hand from Malachi’s collar and winks.

I take great pleasure in stepping in front of her, cutting off whatever ridiculous urge she has to intervene.

"Lucien- " she starts.

"He’s fine," I say, completely unbothered. "He doesn’t need saving."

"I wasn’t going to- "

"You were."

"I was going to check on him."

I tilt my head toward Silas, who has just stomped on Malachi’s ribs with an unnecessary amount of flair.

Luna presses her fingers to her temples. "He was just imprisoned."

"And now he’s working through his feelings."

She glares. "By making it everyone else’s problem?"

"Of course."

A beat.

"Fine," she mutters. "But if he starts monologuing, I’m stepping in."

I sigh. "Fair."

Severin is fuming. Which, frankly, makes this even better. Because he just lost. And the longer he stands there, the more he has to accept it.

Another body hits the ground. Riven. Unlike Silas, he doesn’t land with the weight of someone eager to be in a fight. He doesn’t rise immediately, doesn’t grin through the blood in his mouth. He’s slow. Unsteady. Barely able to stand as he pushes himself up.

His body isn’t just bruised, it’s wrecked. Torn at the edges, split open in ways that tell me whatever happened to him in that fortress, it wasn’t meant to break his body. It was meant to break him. And I know, that if I don’t let her go right now, Luna will kill me where I stand.

So I let her go. And she’s on him before I can even blink. Not delicate. Not cautious. Just there. Her hands on his face, his jaw, gripping his wrists like she’s holding him together.

Like she’s afraid that if she doesn’t, He might fall apart. Riven tenses. Doesn’t lean in. Doesn’t push her away. Just stands there, breathing through it, letting her touch him.

And Severin. I can feel his rage simmering, feel the way it coils inside him as he watches her walk with Riven. He might have had Riven under his control for a while.

But Riven was never his. Not really. Not the way he is hers. And in this moment, with Severin standing there, seething, and Luna gripping Riven like she might carve vengeance from his bones, I know exactly what we’ve done. We haven’t just taken back what’s ours. We’ve declared war.

Severin exhales slowly, dragging his gaze from Riven to me, sharp and assessing, but it doesn’t matter.

I already know what he’s going to say before the words even leave his mouth.

"You think this is over?"

I tip my head, a mockery of consideration. "No," I murmur. "I think you know exactly what’s coming next."

His jaw tightens. "You’re not leaving here with her."

I smile. Slow. Cruel. "She’s not yours to keep."

"And she’s yours?"

I barely resist the urge to laugh. "She’s hers." I gesture vaguely toward Layla, who is still behind us, watching, silent and unreadable. "And if she chooses to leave with us, then that’s her decision. Not yours. Not mine."

Severin’s eyes flick to her. Hungry. Unwilling. Because he knows the truth in my words. And he hates it. But he’s not stupid. He knows I won’t leave her here. And that means he has one option left.

Fight.

His fingers flex at his sides, his power coiling around him, pressing against the space between us like the first roll of thunder before the storm breaks.

"You can’t beat me without the rest of them," he says smoothly, so confident. "You think you alone are enough?"

Before I can answer, Elias steps forward.

And time stops. Not just the air, not just the moment.

Everything. The wind freezes mid-motion, strands of Luna’s hair suspended in the air.

The dust that had been kicked up by the force of the fight hangs, unmoving, each particle locked in place.

The ripple of Severin’s power still stretching toward me, halted mid-breath.

"I mean," he drawls, inspecting his nails like he didn’t just bend the fabric of reality itself, "technically, Lucien doesn’t need the rest of them to beat you. He has me."

Severin can’t move, but I see it in his eyes. The realization that he might have just made a very large mistake.

Elias rolls his shoulders. "Now, we can do this a few ways.

" He lifts a hand, and with the laziest flick of his fingers, he shifts time forward by a fraction of a second, just enough to make Severin stagger, his body trying to catch up to itself, the split-second disorientation that no one can control.

It’s a mockery of movement. A warning.

"I could keep you like this all day," Elias continues, tilting his head. "Hell, I could roll you back a few minutes and make you watch yourself lose again, if you want. I can pause you for a week, a year, honestly, however long it takes for you to get over this massive inferiority complex."

His smile sharpens.

"Or," he muses, "we could all walk away. And you? You could take this loss like a good little villain and try again when you have a shot."

The world shudders around him. And then, just as suddenly as it froze, Time starts again. Severin stumbles slightly, blinking once, twice, recalibrating. Trying to act like he isn’t shaken.

I step forward, closing the last bit of space between us, lowering my voice to something only he can hear.

"Take your loss," I murmur. "And get out of my way."

And for the first time since I’ve known him, Severin does.