Page 9 of The Sin Binder’s Chains (The Seven Sins Academy #2)

Layla returns, shoving a glass of orange juice into my hand before flopping onto the couch across from me. She doesn’t look comfortable.

I take a slow sip, letting the silence settle between us before I speak.

“I know your sister.”

Layla doesn’t react at first. Just watches me carefully, searching my expression for something she doesn’t understand.

“I figured,” she says finally. “She was sent to that Academy, Daemon Academy or whatever. We haven’t spoken since she left.”

I nod. “Luna is my Sin-Binder.”

Layla blinks.

Then frowns. “She’s your what?”

I set the glass down on the coffee table, meeting her gaze evenly.

“My Sin-Binder,” I repeat. “She commands me. She is bound to me. To all of us.”

Layla stares at me like I just told her the sky is made of bone.

Then she leans back, rubbing a hand down her face.

“Okay,” she mutters. “Yeah. I don’t know what the fuck that means.”

I exhale slowly, setting the glass of orange juice down with deliberate care. Layla is still watching me like I’ve crawled out of a true crime documentary, but there’s something else beneath the wariness now.

A quiet, growing understanding. She doesn’t know what she’s understanding, not yet. But she feels it. Good. That will make this easier. And it will make this much worse.

I lean forward slightly, resting my forearms on my knees. “Let’s start with what I am.”

Layla stiffens slightly, her fingers flexing where they rest on the couch cushion. She doesn’t move away, doesn’t tell me to leave, but her entire body is coiled, waiting.

I hold her gaze. “I am not human.”

Her breath catches, just slightly.

I continue, voice measured. “I am one of the Seven Sins. We are not myths, not legends, not stories passed down to scare children into behaving. We have existed since the dawn of the world itself. We are Wrath, Pride, Lust, Envy, Greed, Sloth, and Gluttony, forces incarnate, born into flesh but never meant to be tamed.”

I can see the war in her expression, the part of her that wants to deny this, to call me insane, to pretend I’m lying. But something in her knows better.

She swallows. “And Luna?”

My jaw tightens for a fraction of a second.

Then I exhale, letting my voice lower. “Luna is our Sin-Binder.”

Layla frowns, shaking her head. “You said that before. That means what, exactly?”

“It means she is meant to command us,” I say simply. “To temper us. To bind us to her and wield our power as her own.”

Layla scoffs, leaning back. “That’s insane.”

I don’t react. “Is it?”

She starts to nod, yes, obviously, but then she stops. Because she knows. Because she felt what I did to the plant. Because something deep inside her is already whispering that this is true.

“…So what does that mean for her?” Layla asks, her voice quieter now.

And here is where I must be careful. I cannot give her everything, not yet. But she needs enough. Enough to understand who her sister has become. Enough to understand why she may soon have to make a choice that will change the shape of her world forever.

I tilt my head slightly. “It means that she will never be what you thought she was.” I keep my voice steady, patient. “It means she is ours, just as we are hers.”

Layla’s lips press into a thin line. “What do you mean by ours?”

I hold her gaze.

Then I say, precisely, “She is bound to us in every way that matters.”

Silence. A slow, dawning comprehension in Layla’s eyes.

Her jaw tightens.

“So let me get this straight,” she says, voice clipped. “You and your, Sin friends, just…what? Collect my sister? Pass her around? You all just get a piece of her?”

A flicker of irritation rises in me, but I school my expression. I was expecting this. Of course I was expecting this.

“No,” I say evenly. “We do not take. We are not conquerors.” I lean forward slightly, my voice dipping lower. “We were made for her, Layla. Do you understand what that means?”

She doesn’t answer.

I continue.

“She is not some girl caught in a web of hungry men. She is our balance. Our opposite. Our keeper. And before you let your human sensibilities cloud your judgment, you should know, ” I let my voice sharpen slightly, “she is not suffering.”

Layla exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. “You’re telling me she wants this?”

I stare at her. “I am telling you she was born for this.”

She doesn’t look at me, but she doesn’t argue either.

Good. Because soon, she may have to decide whether or not she can handle the same fate.

She stands abruptly, the movement sharp, restless, a sudden burst of energy she doesn’t know what to do with. She paces across the room, muttering to herself, hands tangling in her hair as if she can physically pull an explanation from the air.

I watch.

I wait.

Because this is how humans process things, they stall, they deflect, they try to put the impossible into the mundane.

“Oh my god,” she groans, stopping mid-stride. She turns to face me, eyes wide with something between disbelief and impending hysteria. “How the fuck is Luna supposed to bring seven guys home for Christmas?”

I blink.

Layla throws her hands up. “Do you even know what Christmas is?”

I consider the question. “It is a mortal holiday in which humans attempt to buy each other’s affections with material offerings.”

Layla stares. “That, okay, honestly? Not wrong.” She resumes pacing. “But do you understand how this looks? Do you have even the slightest idea how insane this would be?”

I tilt my head. “Enlighten me.”

She scoffs, spinning to face me again. “Alright, picture this,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Luna comes home for the holidays. Our parents, our extended family, everyone is there. And guess what? Surprise! She didn’t just bring a boyfriend.

No, no, fuck that normal shit. She brought seven of them. ”

I fold my hands in my lap. “Go on.”

Layla throws herself onto the couch, rubbing her temples. “They’d have a collective stroke,” she mutters. “Like, what would they even do? Set an extra plate? Seven extra plates? Are you guys supposed to take turns carving the turkey? Draw straws on who gets to sit next to her?”

I watch her spiral, amused. “We do not eat mortal food.”

She waves a hand. “Yeah, that’s the fucking issue here.”

Her voice drops lower, more serious. “But that’s not even the worst part.”

I arch a brow. “Do tell.”

Layla exhales sharply, gripping a couch pillow like it personally offended her.

“How the hell do I look my parents in the face and say, Hey, Mom, Dad, Luna’s in a supernatural polyamorous arrangement with the literal incarnations of sin, and by the way, she’s supposed to command them all like some kind of ethereal dominatrix? ”

I consider this.

“You should omit the dominatrix part.”

Layla lets out a long, murderous groan.

I exhale, leaning forward slightly, my voice gentler now. “Layla.”

She doesn’t answer. Just glares at the ceiling like she’s trying to manifest a time machine to undo this entire conversation.

I continue anyway. “You’re thinking about this in the wrong way. You’re focusing on what humans would think. What your parents would say. But your sister is not just human anymore.”

Layla’s breath hitches.

I hold her gaze, slow, patient, deliberate. “She is not theirs. She is not yours. She is herself, and that self is something far greater than what this world told her she should be.”

Layla swallows hard, her fingers flexing against the pillow.

I let the words sink in. Let them settle into the spaces of her mind that she hasn’t fully acknowledged yet.

“The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”