Page 18 of The Sin Binder’s Destiny (The Seven Sins Academy #5)

I’ve known Lucien since the gods spat us out like chewed bones, long before mortals scribbled stories about monsters in the dark. He’s been sharp edges and cold dominion since the start, carved out of stone and pride, and somehow still walking around with those hands that look like they’ve never so much as touched dirt. Pretty hands, I’ve always thought, for a man who’s cracked skulls and commanded armies.

Right now, those same hands are useless. Clenched into fists at his sides as if that’ll stop the bleeding underneath. He’s spiraling, drowning beneath that icy exterior, and I can’t have that—not when the man’s the reason the seven of us haven’t torn each other to pieces a thousand times over.

And certainly not when my feral little flower is the one driving him to it.

So I watch him. Watch the way his eyes cut toward Luna like she’s a storm he’s trying to outpace. He’ll never say it—not without setting himself on fire first—but he’s fraying, quietly beneath the weight of everything he’s done and everything he hasn’t.

Which is exactly why I catch her wrist when she tries to slip past me toward the others.

“Hey, petal,” I murmur, voice pitched low, too sweet. She narrows her eyes at me immediately, already suspicious.

“What, ?” She doesn’t have the patience for me today, which only makes me grin wider.

I tug her off to the side, out of earshot from the rest, ignoring the way she huffs. “Before you go brooding over portal pillars and death trials, humor me.”

Her glare sharpens, but she lets me steer her to a quiet alcove beneath a collapsed archway. Sunlight spears in fractured beams through the broken stained glass above us, scattering color across her skin. She looks ethereal like this. Dangerous. Mine.

“I know you want to throttle Lucien,” I start, tapping my fingers against her wrist where I still hold her. “And to be clear, I would personally pay good money to watch you lay him flat.”

Her brows lift warily, already knowing I’m winding up to something.

“But,” I drawl, drawing out the syllable like a weapon, “what you don’t seem to realize, my little feral thing, is that man is currently bleeding out his pride all over this cathedral. And it’s ugly.”

Luna crosses her arms, chin tipping up defiantly. “That’s not my problem.”

I lean in closer, lowering my voice, letting it curl around her like smoke. “It is when you’re the one holding the knife.”

She blinks, thrown, and I soften the grin just enough to pull her off-balance. “I’ve known Lucien since the earth cracked open and spat me out, and believe me when I say, he’s the roughest bastard you’ll ever meet. Like swallowing glass and liking the taste.”

Her lips twitch despite herself, and I press the advantage.

“But that man?” I nod toward where Lucien lingers by the entrance, pretending not to watch her every move. “He would cut out his own spine before asking you to forgive him again. He doesn’t know how. You think you’ve cornered the market on stubborn? He wrote the damn manual.”

She exhales sharply, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh she doesn’t want me to hear.

I squeeze her wrist once, deliberately gentle now. “You’ve got all of us orbiting you like moths to flame, darling. But he’s the one who stood in the fire first.”

When she doesn’t immediately argue, I lean back, tossing her a lazy grin to cover the fact that my chest aches a little seeing her like this—torn between her own bruised pride and something softer she doesn’t want to admit.

“If you want, I can list his finer qualities for you,” I add innocently. “He's got excellent cheekbones. A voice made for threats and filthy promises. A truly alarming number of sharp weapons hidden on his person at all times.”

Luna snorts despite herself, shaking her head like I’m impossible.

I lean in one last time, dropping my voice until it’s just for her. “He’s a bastard, flower. But he’s your bastard now, whether either of you like it or not.”

Before she can argue, I wink, brushing my thumb along her wrist like I’m sealing a promise. “Think about it.”

And then I step back, leaving her standing there, alone with the knowledge that Lucien Virelius—the man who never bleeds—is bleeding for her.

Because if anyone is going to drag those two prideful idiots together by the throat, it’s me.

It hits me like a brick to the face halfway back to Elias. One of those obnoxious, stupidly loud epiphanies that makes my brain itch because suddenly I know exactly what I need to do—and it is delicious.

Matchmaker.

I don’t mean the sweet, well-meaning, meddling aunt type. No, no. I mean the absolute shit-stirrer, the chaos agent, the guy who is going to shove two people into a room and lock the door until they either kill each other or fuck each other senseless. I’ve been living for this moment my entire damn life and now it’s right in front of me.

My grin curls sharp as I slow my steps, falling in line beside Elias, who’s walking like someone shoved a stick so far up his ass he forgot how to bend at the knees. His jaw is set, his eyes darting past the others as they cross the cathedral threshold, glued to her—the girl who’s already his.

He feels me coming before I say a word. Elias always does. He groans without looking at me. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I murmur innocently, which is always, always a sign that I’m about to do something catastrophic.

“Whatever scheme is brewing behind those feral little eyes of yours.” He casts me a look like I’m the devil incarnate. I take it as a compliment.

I lean in closer, voice pitched low and sweet, all sugar-coated trouble. “I’ve decided, Elias, that I’m going to fix this.”

He arches a brow, deadpan. “What ‘this’ exactly?”

“The glacial war zone between our fearless, dickheaded leader and our favorite little binder. Obviously.” I glance ahead, where Luna is laughing at something Riven said, sunlight hitting her face like the gods themselves are giving me permission to worship her. “She’s miserable. He’s miserable. And I am absolutely not going to stand by and let them waste all this delicious mutual hatred without forcing them into something wildly inappropriate.”

Elias groans again, pinching the bridge of his nose like I’ve physically pained him. “. No.”

“Oh, Elias.” I clap a hand over my chest like he’s wounded me. “When have I ever stayed out of anything?”

“That’s the problem,” he mutters.

I turn fully, walking backward in front of him because, truly, he deserves to see my entire, chaotic, beautiful face when I say this. “She’s bonded to me. She loves me. You love me. Which means I now have full authority to meddle, interfere, and orchestrate their downfall into sexual and emotional disaster.”

We step into the cathedral, shadows and light slanting across marble and stained glass, the others fanning out ahead, their voices echoing off stone. Luna is there, laughing softly at something Riven says.

Lucien is nowhere in sight. Perfect.

I nudge Elias with my elbow. “All I need is your help.”

“You’re not dragging me into this circus.”

“Oh, but you’re already in it,” I murmur, grinning like a wolf. “You just don’t know it yet.”

Because if Lucien thinks he’s going to keep pushing her away, and if Luna thinks she can stay angry forever—well, I’ve got other plans.

Plans involving closed doors, forced proximity, and maybe, if I’m feeling generous, a little push toward inevitable disaster. Because when it comes to the Seven Sins, nothing is ever clean or easy.

And I’ve never been one to resist a little chaos.

“You know,” I say casually, cutting my eyes to where Elias lingers a few feet away, his arms crossed like he’s the only one here with any actual dignity left. “I think we need to make a list.”

“A list?” He arches a brow, suspicious already. That’s fair. When I open my mouth, it usually ends in chaos.

“Yeah,” I grin, slow and dangerous. “Of all the things our fearless, brooding bastard can do. You know, in case Luna forgets how impressive he is.”

Elias snorts without looking at me, but the corner of his mouth twitches, and that’s how I know I’ve got him.

“Like what? He can make us kneel with that Dominion nonsense?” Elias’s voice drips with snark, but there’s something softer under it. He’s worried too. We all are.

I press a hand to my heart dramatically. “Oh yes, let’s not forget how sexy it is to have your free will ripped right out of your spine.”

“That’s his best quality,” Elias deadpans.

I lean in conspiratorially, voice low. “I mean, sure, he’s got the whole commanding, powerful, terrifying thing going on. But he’s also got zero social skills, a brooding complex, and a smile so sharp it could gut you.”

Elias’ snort turns into an actual laugh now, low and dark. “Don’t forget he glares at her like he wants to murder her and kiss her in the same breath.”

I hum, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Oh, that’s his specialty. Emotional constipation. The classic Virelius charm.”

Elias finally glances at me, a flicker of something real in his eyes. “You know none of this is funny, right?”

I shrug because if I don’t make it funny, I’ll probably lose my mind. “I know. But if we don’t laugh, what’s left? We’re all spiraling. She’s not living with us. He’s brooding himself into oblivion. Caspian’s barely holding it together.” I jab a finger at Elias’ chest, Elias opens his mouth, probably to deny it, but then Luna’s laugh echoes faintly from inside the cathedral, and every inch of him softens.

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “We’re all wrecked over her.”

Elias’ jaw ticks. “Yeah. But none of us can fix this if he keeps making it worse.”

I glance toward the cathedral doors, my chest tightening in that dangerous way it always does when I think of her too long. “He’s trying. In his own, prideful, catastrophically bad way.”

Then I push off the wall, rolling my shoulders, and flash Elias a grin. “But you know what we should do?”

He lifts a brow, wary. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“We should make her a list anyway. ‘Lucien Virelius: A Guide to Loving the Least Lovable Man Alive.’”

The thing about Lucien—besides the fact that he looks like he eats souls for breakfast and scowls for fun—is that he doesn’t know how to be soft. He doesn't know how to try. But maybe… maybe he doesn’t need to.

Maybe he just needs a stage.

I tap my fingers against the stone, biting back a grin.

He’s not the only one who knows how to manipulate a situation. All he needs is the right moment—the right spotlight. And me? I can build that moment.

“Hey, pretty boy,” I call out low enough that no one else will hear, tipping my chin at him. “I’ve got an idea.”

Elias glances over, suspicion already pinched across his brow. “,” he warns, like my name alone is enough to signal bad decisions, which is fair. “Last time you had an idea, we almost got set on fire.”

“That was mostly your fault,” I shoot back, already grinning. “And this one’s genius.”

He narrows his eyes, but he steps closer anyway, because he’s an idiot and because when it comes to me, he can’t help himself.

“What,” Elias drawls, voice dripping with suspicion, “is this genius plan?”

I lean in conspiratorially, lowering my voice to a murmur. “We need Lucien to stop being the asshole villain in her story, yeah?”

Elias’s mouth twists. “Good luck with that.”

I ignore him. “So… what if we make him a hero?”

He blinks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “You want to fix Lucien’s image problem? What, you planning on writing him love letters too?”

I shrug. “Not letters. But maybe a crisis.”

Elias squints harder, and I can almost see the wheels turning under that dark, messy hair. “What kind of crisis?”

“One where I almost die. Dramatically.”

“—”

“Look,” I cut in before he can talk sense into me, because I know this is stupid and reckless and exactly the kind of thing I’d do. “She loves heroes. She loves us because we’re disasters, but she loves him because he’s strong. She won’t let herself admit it, but it’s true. So, I just need to… be in a precarious situation. One that he has to get me out of. Big, loud, heroic. Boom.”

Elias rubs his face, muttering something about how I’m the reason he drinks.

“You want me to help you almost die?”

“Preferably without the ‘almost’ part failing.”

His lips twitch, like he can’t quite help it. “You’re out of your godsdamn mind.”

“Yeah,” I say, grinning wider, because it’s true and he knows it. “But it’s going to work.”

He glances back toward the cathedral doors, where Luna’s voice filters faintly through the cracked stone, soft and sharp all at once.

Then Elias sighs like a man about to jump off a cliff he knows he shouldn’t.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But if you actually die, I’m not resurrecting you.”

I clap him on the shoulder, a wild rush of glee twisting low in my gut. “That’s the spirit.”

Because if Lucien won’t save himself, I’ll make sure he gets the chance to save me. And when Luna sees him do it—maybe she’ll finally look at him the way she looks at the rest of us. Even if I have to almost get myself killed to make it happen.

The ledge isn’t impressive.

Which is why it’s perfect.

I stare down at the jagged drop—just enough rubble and crumbling stone that, from the ground, it’ll look like I was a hair away from being flattened like a tragic, sexy pancake.

Elias leans against the wall behind me, arms crossed, watching me like I’ve grown a second head. “This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

Which is rich, coming from him. He’s the one who once tried to summon a god just to prank Orin.

I glance over my shoulder and grin. “That’s a bold claim. You were there when I tried to teach the chapel ghosts choreography.”

Elias snorts despite himself but doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop watching me like he’s memorizing every crack I might fall through.

Good. I want him to watch. Want them all to watch.

Because it’s not just about me looking like a dumbass—it’s about getting Lucien to stop brooding in the corner like he’s the broodiest bitch in the Hollow and actually do something.

I swing my leg over the edge, settling onto the broken stone like I’m the king of bad decisions.

“Alright,” I say, voice light, sing-song. “Here’s the plan.”

Elias groans like he already regrets being born into the same cursed bond as me. “This is not a plan.”

“It’s performance art.”

I gesture grandly to the abyss below, to the cracked marble floor of the cathedral far beneath us. “I fall. Lucien saves me. Luna’s forced to watch. She remembers he’s capable of something other than being an emotionally constipated bastard.”

Elias pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t die.”

“That’s the beauty of it!” I grin wider, leaning dangerously forward so the stone groans beneath me. “It’s all for show. He’ll think I’m about to die, he’ll dive in like the gallant jackass he secretly is, and she’ll—” I make an explosion gesture near my heart “—start caring again.” He flips me off.

For Lucien. This is why I’m about to yeet myself off a ledge like a bargain bin martyr.

I push up to my feet, rolling my shoulders.

Elias mutters behind me, “If this actually works, I’m throwing myself off next.”

I glance back, grinning. “You’ll need to strip first. Really sell it.”

“Fuck off.”

The cathedral stretches yawning and empty beneath me, the fractured sanctum glowing faintly from the sigils still bleeding Hollow magic into the stones. Branwen’s echo haunts the corners, her curse lingering like cobwebs, but she’s dead and this place is dying and none of that matters—not if we can’t get her to come home.

I count to three.

Then I throw myself backward.

The fall is perfect.

Dramatic. Chaotic. My limbs flailing just enough to look uncoordinated but not enough that I’ll actually splatter across the marble.

I hear Elias’s voice echo down after me, sharp and delighted. “Oh no! Someone save our favorite disaster!”

The air screams past my ears, the marble floor rushing up to meet me, and—

There it is.

A crack of power.

Lucien’s.

It hits like a tidal wave, slamming against my spine, threads of Dominion wrapping tight around me mid-fall.

Of course, he catches me.

Of course, he does.

Because Lucien Virelius is an asshole—but he’s a prideful, guilt-ridden, possessive asshole, and he was never going to let me hit the ground.

The magic tightens around my ribs, cold and bright, yanking me violently out of the freefall. I dangle mid-air like a ragdoll, grinning up at him from thirty feet below, because I know what’s coming next.

And sure enough, Lucien’s voice cuts through the cathedral, low and murderous. “.”

I beam. “Lucien! My savior!”

The magic jerks, slamming me gently but firmly to the floor. I land in a crouch, brushing imaginary dust off my shirt as Lucien storms toward me like he’s going to personally strangle me.

“You fucking idiot,” he snarls.