Page 68 of The Sin Binder’s Chains (The Seven Sins Academy #2)

I drum my fingers against the table in a lazy rhythm, each tap a countdown to when Lucien finally shuts the hell up.

He’s still talking about strategies, probably, or the implications of something ancient and awful, but I tuned him out somewhere around “repercussions” and “arcane disturbance.” My attention is locked on the butterfly drifting just beyond the cracked window.

Pale yellow, almost translucent wings catching slivers of dying sunlight.

It flutters like it doesn’t know this place is cursed. Like it doesn’t care.

I envy it. Or maybe I want to set it on fire. Hard to tell.

The room is dim but tense, not that I’m allowed to say that word, so let’s go with something better.

It’s a coil, tight and ready to snap. Riven’s practically vibrating in the corner, Lucien’s pacing like he’s orchestrating a war council, which, okay, he technically is.

Elias is trying to mimic Lucien’s every step behind him, a parody with exaggerated grimaces and jazz hands. I nearly choke trying not to laugh.

Then Luna snorts.

It’s soft, like she didn’t mean to let it slip, but she did, and now my chest’s doing that thing it shouldn’t, tightening around the bond between us like it’s tethered to something dangerous and divine.

Her hair falls in front of her face as she looks down, probably to avoid catching my eyes, which is stupid because I’m already staring.

Lucien pauses mid-sentence and scowls at her. “Something funny?”

“Yeah,” I say before she can. “Your voice. It’s got the same effect on me as an Ambien, only less useful.”

Elias wheezes beside me and doubles over like he’s been stabbed, and Luna’s trying to hold back another laugh, which makes her shoulders shake. Riven glares at me like I just personally insulted the concept of wrath. He might combust.

Lucien doesn’t even blink. “Do you ever think before you speak?”

“Nope,” I grin. “And if I did, I probably wouldn’t be as charming.”

“You’re not charming,” he snaps, right as Elias whispers “debatable” behind a fake cough.

I stretch like a cat, hands laced behind my head. “Look, I get that this is all very dramatic and end-of-days or whatever, but someone’s gotta keep the mood light. Otherwise, you’re all going to brood yourselves into early graves.”

Orin, patient as the storm waiting on the horizon, finally speaks from the corner. “We should be focused. Branwen is not done.”

I deflate a little. Because yeah. That’s the truth that kills the laugh in my throat. Branwen’s not done. And we’re not ready.

But I glance at Luna again, and she’s watching me this time, that wild gleam in her eyes , equal parts challenge and invitation, and I think maybe I’ll burn if she keeps looking at me like that.

Still worth it.

“Anyway,” I say with a shrug, “who wants to blow something up?”

Lucien growls. Elias raises his hand.

And Luna, goddess help me, smiles.

I shoot to my feet like the idea just struck me, half-baked and full of trouble, the best kind of idea.

Lucien’s mid-sentence again, talking strategy, logistics, whatever makes his cold little soul tick, and I think I hear the faint strain in his voice when he realizes I’m not listening.

I grin like I’m about to start a fire, which, let’s be real, is usually true.

“Sit your ass back down,” Lucien snaps, without even glancing my way.

I freeze. One hand splayed across my chest like I’m offended, deeply, dramatically, sexually wounded. “Lucien,” I say, dragging his name out like a curse wrapped in silk, “if I had a coin for every time you tried to boss me around, I’d be richer than the Council.”

“You are richer than the Council,” Elias mutters from the couch, one leg hanging off the armrest like he owns gravity.

“Exactly,” I say, pointing at him like we just solved a world-ending puzzle.

Lucien turns slowly, all cold fury and Dominion authority, and the room stills around him , except for me.

I’m already walking. Now that I’m up, there’s no way I’m sitting down again.

My mood’s too restless. There’s a thrum under my skin, not quite adrenaline, not quite magic.

It’s her. Luna. The bond between us crackling like a live wire, like her magic wants to run its hands over my body and twist.

I don’t even know where I’m going, but it’s not back to that chair.

“She’s not a threat to you,” I say instead, suddenly, loudly, like it’s the most obvious truth in the world.

Lucien narrows his eyes. “Who?”

“Luna,” I shrug. “I mean, yeah, she could probably kill us all if she wanted to. But look at that face, she doesn’t want to.” I glance at her, catch the barely-there tilt of her mouth. Victory. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Lucien exhales like he’s trying not to murder me. “That’s not what this is about.”

“No,” Orin says quietly from the other end of the room, “but it will be. If we don’t get ahead of Branwen, if we don’t figure out how she’s using the pillar… if we don’t understand what she’s trying to build.”

I spin, arms outstretched, dramatically pacing like I’m impersonating Lucien now. “Then let’s figure it out. Let’s poke the pillar with a stick. Let’s pour wine on it. Maybe Elias can do his sexy dance of summoning a demon. ”

“Okay, first of all,” Elias interrupts, hand over his chest, “that dance is private.”

“Second of all,” I say without missing a beat, “she’s not just coming for the rest of us. She’s coming for Luna, too. That bond she has with the guys she’s taken? It’s poison. It warps you. And if she touches Luna…”

I trail off, and for once, the silence isn’t awkward. It’s heavy. The idea of that first sin binder getting her claws into Luna…

No.

I won’t let that happen.

Lucien watches me. Not with surprise, that ship sailed years ago, but with a flicker of something he doesn’t want to name. Maybe suspicion. Maybe curiosity. Maybe the same dread I feel humming in my blood, even beneath all my jokes.

Luna finally speaks, her voice low but steady. “We don’t need more plans. We need to act.”

And fuck me if I don’t want to follow that voice into hell.

Elias mutters, “Bet it’s more fun than here.”

And Lucien, in all his reluctant, frustrated glory, finally nods. “Then let’s move.”

I grin, already walking toward her. Because yeah, I’ll follow her. Into hell, into war, into whatever’s coming next.

And I’ll make damn sure we survive it.

I fall into step behind Lucien with the most exaggerated stride I can muster, shoulders stiff, chin tilted up like I’m sniffing for insubordination.

My hands clasp behind my back in perfect mockery of his usual self-righteous march.

I even furrow my brows and mutter under my breath, “Dominion this, Dominion that, I’m too emotionally constipated to say please. ”

Elias snorts behind me, and I don’t even have to look to know he’s flipping Lucien off in perfect time with my steps. It’s a dance we’ve done a thousand times, mockery in motion, chaos draped in lazy sarcasm.

Lucien doesn’t stop walking, but I see the twitch in his jaw. That’s a win in my book.

“I will shove you into the pillar and see if it spits you back out as something useful,” he mutters, deadpan.

“Oof,” I hiss dramatically, clutching my chest. “Say it slower next time. I almost felt something.”

Luna snorts. It’s small, barely more than a breath, but I hear it. Feel it. That tiny fracture in the stone-cold severity she’s been carrying all day. I’d tear the world apart for that sound.

The pillar looms ahead like a leftover bone from some ancient god. Carved in lines too sharp, etched with symbols that bite at the eyes. Old magic, heavy and raw. Even I don’t like being near it, and I like everything I’m not supposed to.

Lucien reaches it first and stops, staring up at the thing like it personally offended him. Orin joins him silently, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, his expression unreadable. Like always.

“Do we have a plan this time?” Elias asks, sprawling across the nearest half-collapsed wall like it’s a chaise lounge. “Or are we just going to stare at it until it opens a portal to hell?”

“It’s not hell,” Orin says calmly. “It’s worse.”

“Oh good,” I say, bouncing on my heels. “I love worse.”

Lucien rounds on me. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

I raise a brow and tilt my head. “Lucien, I take Luna seriously. The rest of this? Not so much.”

Luna, standing just behind me, doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her bond tug, warm and sharp. It curls around my ribs like a reminder: we’re connected now. I might be the clown, the chaos, the flirt who never shuts up, but when it comes to her, every nerve in my body is awake.

“We need to understand how she’s using the pillar,” Orin says, stepping forward. He places a palm against the ancient stone, and it hums, faint, nearly imperceptible, but there. “It’s tuned to the Sin Binder’s magic. Which means she’s activated it.”

“Branwen,” Luna says, and the name tastes like poison on her tongue.

The stone pulses.

Lucien stiffens. “Then she’s not just watching. She’s waiting.”

I lean against Luna without asking, shoulder to shoulder, letting the quiet between us buzz. Then I grin sideways at her and whisper, “Want me to lick it and see what happens?”

Elias chokes.

Lucien walks away.

I call that a full success.

“Wait,” I say, the word a spark. “I’ve got an idea.”

Lucien halts mid-stride, spine stiffening as he pivots to face me with the slow, reluctant grace of a man who already regrets what’s about to come out of my mouth. I grin wide enough to make it worse, canines flashing, one brow lifted just enough to toe the line between mockery and genius.

Elias immediately groans behind me. “Oh, this is how we die.”

But Lucien’s already stopped, already turned. His jaw tightens. “Silas.”