Page 52 of The Sin Binder’s Chains (The Seven Sins Academy #2)

I watch her return through the thinning treeline, her fingers grazing Elias’ arm as he mutters something low and half-smirking, probably trying to lighten the aftermath of everything that’s cracked beneath them.

Elias is doing damage control in his way, sarcasm as armor, self-deprecation as offering, but Luna doesn’t laugh.

Not really. She smiles, but it’s strained.

Tight. Like something has settled heavy in her bones, and she’s carrying it in silence because none of us know how to hold it with her.

Silas is seated near the far side of the camp, carving lines into the dirt with a stick like he’s trying to find some ancient meaning in the earth.

He doesn’t look up when she returns. He hasn’t since the fight.

Since she shoved him back with that fury in her eyes and refused to hear him out.

And I don’t blame her. But I also know we failed her. I failed her. I should’ve been the one.

So I rise.

Not with ceremony. Not with words. I just move through the space between us like it belongs to me. Like I can still command it. Because I can. With everyone but her.

“Luna,” I say.

She freezes at the sound of my voice. Her spine stiffens, and she turns slowly, eyes narrowing before she even sees me fully. Elias opens his mouth, probably to make some joke or throw himself between us, but one glance from me quiets him. For once, he gets it.

“Walk with me,” I say. It’s not a request.

She hesitates.

And then she moves.

We drift away from the firelight, away from the gazes of the others, into the half-shadow of trees where night presses closer, but doesn’t feel suffocating. Not yet.

“I should have been the one to tell you,” I begin, voice low, not apologetic but quieter than I usually allow it to be. “It wasn’t Silas’s burden. I made the call. I pushed for it. I believed, and still believe, that it’s our only way out.”

“Then you’re just as fucked as the rest of them,” she says, stopping short, arms crossed like she’s daring me to flinch. “At least Silas looked like it hurt. You? You’re a fucking statue.”

I step closer. Not enough to invade her space, but enough to remind her that I could. That I’ve never had to raise my voice to make someone fall to their knees.

But not her.

Never her.

“You think pain looks like flinching?” I murmur. “I don’t bleed where you can see it, Luna. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

She laughs, sharp and disbelieving. “Is this your idea of empathy? A little late for that, don’t you think?”

“No,” I say, voice steel beneath silk. “This is clarity. You want to be mad at someone? Be mad at me. You want to hate someone? Hate me. But don’t take it out on Silas. He carried it because we asked him to.”

She stares at me, and something falters behind her eyes. Just a flicker. Enough for me to see the edge of something cracked and afraid beneath all that rage.

“She’s my sister,” she whispers. “She’s all I have left.”

And I nod. Once. Because I understand that better than she knows.

“And you are all she has,” I reply. “That’s why we didn’t decide for her. We brought it to you first. Because if there’s anyone she’d choose to fight for, it’s you.”

Silence blooms between us like a bruise. Deep. Spreading. But not as hopeless as before.

I look at her, this girl who refuses to bend, who spits in the face of gods and monsters alike, and I hate that I admire her for it. I hate that I can’t force her into obedience the way I can everyone else. That she looks at me like I’m the mistake. The danger.

But maybe she’s right.

Still, I lower my voice, that thread of command sharpening even as I try to keep it from slicing too deep.

“If we stay here, we die. Slowly. Piece by piece. You know it. I know it. Severin has all the time in the world to wait us out. Unless someone gives him what he wants.”

“And you’re willing to sacrifice her for that,” she snaps.

“No,” I say. “I’m willing to fight to make sure no one has to be sacrificed. But if it comes down to choosing between watching you both get devoured, or buying us time to save you both, I will choose the only path that gives us a fucking chance.”

Her breath shudders in her throat. And I see it then, that moment where fury becomes grief, and grief becomes understanding, even if it’s the bitter kind.

I step back, give her space.

“This isn’t over,” she says.

“No,” I agree. “But it starts here.”

And I walk away before I say something dangerous. Something I’ll regret.

Like I can’t stand the thought of losing you either.

Riven doesn’t move like the rest of us. He stalks, shoulders tense, jaw tight, eyes darker than they should be even in the absence of light.

There’s no hesitation in him, just the constant simmer of fury barely leashed beneath his skin.

He’s never liked decisions made without a fight, and even now, I can feel it in the way he approaches like the choice we made earlier is still chewing at him from the inside out.

I stand my ground.

There’s no point in pretending like I don’t know what this is about. He slows when he reaches me, doesn’t speak at first. Just glares. I raise a brow.

“She’s not going to forgive us,” he finally says, voice low and rough, like gravel scraped against steel. “Not for this.”

I arch a brow. “Which one? Luna? Or Layla?”

His jaw works. He doesn’t answer because he knows both names sting in different ways.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “And neither should you. What we did… what we’re doing…

It’s survival. Severin has the upper hand here, and you know it.

The Rift bends for him. The inked paths, the monsters, this whole labyrinth, it’s his domain.

The longer we stay, the more he learns. The more we lose. ”

Riven scoffs, dragging a hand through his hair. “So we feed him, Layla and hope he gets full?”

“No,” I say, cold and steady. “We let Layla decide how she wants to fight. She’s not a child. She’s not helpless. And if she chooses to confront him, then she chooses. Just like Luna chose to stay, even when every part of her screamed to run.”

He looks away, fists clenched. “She shouldn’t have to choose between dying with us or surviving without us.”

“No one should,” I say. “But this world doesn’t care what should be.”

The wind shifts. I hear laughter in the distance, Elias, probably trying to bait Luna out of her stormclouds. It won’t work. But he’ll keep trying. That’s how he loves. With jokes sharp enough to draw blood. With distance, so it doesn’t cut him back.

“She deserves better,” Riven mutters.

I let silence settle between us for a moment. Then, “They both do.”

And still, here we are, monsters masquerading as salvation, hoping the girls we’re tethered to never realize they were always their answers.

I start walking again, slow enough for Riven to match my pace if he chooses.

He does, but grudgingly, like every step is a concession.

I don't push him to speak again. We’ve all said enough today.

What matters now is what comes next, how we protect them from what’s still coming. From Severin. From this realm.

From ourselves.

And maybe, if there’s anything left when this is over, how we survive it too.

Layla doesn’t flinch when I sit beside her.

That’s a small relief. She’s been… distant since the conversation started.

Quiet in a way that isn’t just exhaustion it’s withdrawal.

And Luna, always the protector, always the sharp blade drawn on behalf of those she loves, doesn’t take her eyes off me for a second.

Her glare sears through me, righteous and raw, but I let it burn. I deserve it.

“You don’t have to go,” I say to Layla, not Luna. My voice is low, leveled for truth, not dominance. My Dominion curls around the edges of the moment, restrained but ready. She needs clarity, not compulsion. She deserves a choice.

Layla tilts her head, the firelight catching the sheen of sweat on her brow. Her mouth is tight, a line that trembles at the corners, but she nods once. “I know.”

Luna’s hand tenses around her sister’s wrist. I see it. I don’t look away.

“You think this is simple?” Luna spits, voice hushed but full of venom. “That you can sit there and pretend like we haven’t been walking through hell together. That she owes any of you anything.”

“No,” I say, meeting her eyes. “But she owes herself the truth. And the truth is, this isn’t just about escape anymore.

Severin has been building to this. He’s not throwing monsters at us to kill us.

He’s watching what she does. What we do.

This place is alive because of him, but it’s bleeding power because of her. You feel it, don’t you?”

Luna’s expression twists. She does. I can see the war in her, the one that hates me for saying it, and the one that knows I’m not wrong.

Layla shifts, drawing both our attention back to her. Her voice is quiet, small in the way that makes the entire world still to listen. “He’s in my head. Not all the time. But sometimes. Like… echoes. I don’t think he can force me. But he’s waiting for something.”

“What?” Luna asks immediately.

Layla shakes her head. “Permission. Invitation. I don’t know. But I can feel him pressing at the edges of my magic like he’s looking for a door I haven’t opened.”

The fire crackles. The silence around us isn’t empty. It’s loaded.

“If you don’t want to go,” I say again, “then we’ll fight. We’ll keep you with us, and we’ll find another way.”

She meets my gaze. There’s something resolute there now, something that hadn’t been earlier.

“I want to know,” she says. “I want to know what he’s planning. What he’s made me for. If I am going to stand against him… I have to understand what I am to him.”

Luna’s breath hitches. “Layla, ”