Page 26 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)

I don’t stop walking. Not because I have anywhere to go, but because if I do stop, I’ll probably throw something, and knowing my luck, it’ll hit the wrong person and somehow make things worse.

I rake my hands through my hair, inhaling deeply through my nose, trying to calm the fire burning beneath my skin. It doesn’t work.

This whole fucking trial is a joke. I was so sure they were going to kill me. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? That’s what I was told, survive the trial, or don’t. It seemed simple enough. Except now, hours into this, I’m realizing something.

None of them have tried.

Ambrose just wanted to fuck me. Riven wanted to scare me. Caspian, fuck him. Elias and Silas? Idiots.

But not one of them has made a real move to end me. So what’s the fucking point?

I let out a sharp breath, kicking at a loose rock on the path. It skitters forward, bouncing against the uneven ground before coming to a stop. Like me. Stuck. Moving, but with no real direction. No answer.

How do I win? Can I win? If they’re not trying to kill me, then how do I prove I deserve to be here?

I feel like I’m running in circles. Like this whole thing is just one elaborate joke that no one let me in on. I don’t realize I’ve wandered toward the ruined section of the courtyard until I hear a shuffling noise.

I pause, frowning, scanning the area.

Then I see him.

Orin.

He’s hiding.

I blink.

He’s supposed to be hunting me. That’s what this trial is, right? A hunt? That’s what Lucien said. But instead of hunting me, Orin is hunched over behind a half-collapsed wall, peering out like he’s the one being chased.

I huff out a laugh, exhausted and irritated all at once. “Seriously?”

He flinches, looking up like a kid caught with his hand in the fucking cookie jar.

I cross my arms. “You do realize you’re supposed to be looking for me, right?”

Orin scowls. “Shhh.” He gestures vaguely to the open space behind him. “I’m being stealthy.”

I stare at him.

Then sigh and walk over and drop onto the ground next to him.

Because fuck it. If no one else is taking this seriously, why should I?

Orin stares at me like I’ve just disrupted his entire existence. “Uh.”

I stretch my legs out, resting my weight back on my palms. “You hiding from someone in particular? Or just life? ”

He exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “Ambrose is being annoying.”

I scoff. “Ambrose is annoying.”

Orin nods, solemn. “He was monologuing again.”

I wince. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” He picks at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I had to leave.”

We sit there for a moment, the weight of this ridiculous fucking trial settling over us.

Then I sigh. “This is fucking stupid.”

Orin shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Like, what’s the point?” I gesture vaguely around us. “No one’s trying to kill me. So what the fuck am I supposed to be doing? Running for fun?”

Orin tilts his head, considering. “Maybe you already won.”

I scoff. “Then where’s my fucking trophy?”

He hums. “Maybe you get to live. That’s the prize.”

I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. “Well, that’s depressing.”

He shrugs again. “Yeah.”

And somehow, this, sitting here, next to the one person in this damn trial who isn’t actively making my life harder, feels like the most peace I’ve had all day.

Orin plucks a blade of grass from the ground, rolls it between his fingers, and lets it die.

It’s slow, subtle. No dramatic withering, no visible decay, just a quiet unraveling.

Like it was never alive to begin with. By the time the breeze catches it, it’s nothing but dust, fluttering away in the air.

I watch him do it again. And again.

“Is that fun for you?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Passes the time. ”

I hum, stretching my legs out in front of me. “How does it work?”

Another shrug. “I take. It fades.” He flicks another drained blade of grass away. “That’s all.”

I watch his hands, the way they stay unnervingly still between movements, the way his fingers barely twitch before hunger does the rest.

He’s… calm. Somber, almost. But not in the way Lucien is, where it feels calculated. Not like Ambrose, where it feels crafted.

Orin’s just… quiet. Present. And right now, that’s exactly what I need.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders. “So what’s your grand strategy here? Hide until the trial’s over?”

“Mm.” He flicks another dead thing away. “Maybe. I’m very committed to the bit.”

I huff out a small laugh. “Fair.”

We sit there for a moment, the ridiculousness of everything settling between us.

Then, a yelp echoes from above, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone hitting the ground hard.

Orin sighs.

I blink, turning just in time to see Elias groaning in the dirt, limbs sprawled like a discarded puppet.

From above, Silas beams down from his perch on the ledge. “Surprise!”

Elias lifts his head, voice muffled. “I hate you.”

“I love you.”

Elias groans again, rolling onto his back like he’s accepting his fate. “I swear to god, if I get a concussion, ”

Silas cackles. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. It was, like, a four-foot drop.”

“It was higher than that. ”

Orin exhales. “They do this a lot.”

I snort. “I can tell.”

Elias finally stumbles to his feet, brushing dust off his clothes, before snapping his gaze back up to Silas. “Why.”

Silas grins. “You looked bored.”

Elias lunges for the ledge. Silas leaps. Then, chaos. One second, Elias is grabbing Silas by the collar, and the next, they’re full-on wrestling in the dirt like rabid raccoons.

Orin watches them for a full ten seconds before sighing, rubbing his temples like this is causing him actual physical pain.

“This is why I hide,” he mutters.

And honestly? I don’t blame him.

They’re still wrestling when the others start arriving, drawn by the commotion like vultures to a carcass.

Lucien is first. He steps into the courtyard, sharp gaze sweeping over the scene, his expression shifting from disapproval to pure exasperation.

“What,” he says, voice clipped, “the fuck is going on?”

Silas, currently half-pinned beneath Elias, wheezes, “Brotherly bonding.”

Lucien pinches the bridge of his nose.

Then he moves. It happens fast, one second, the fight is still raging, and the next, Lucien wrenches Elias off of Silas like he weighs nothing, shoving him back.

Elias scowls, shoving his sleeves up. “Stay out of it, Dad.”

Silas, sensing opportunity, leaps onto Lucien’s back.

Lucien snaps. Within seconds, he’s involved, now fighting both of them, trying to shake Silas off while Elias lunges back in .

Orin sighs, looking over at me. “You’d think they’d have actual things to do.”

I just shake my head. “Apparently not.”

Then Ambrose arrives.

His gaze flicks over the scene, brows lifting in bemusement. “Really?”

No one answers, because Lucien is now trying to choke Silas while keeping Elias at bay, and Silas is cackling like this is the best day of his life.

Ambrose sighs. “Fucking imbeciles.”

Then, with all the confidence of a man who thinks he’s above the chaos, he strides toward them and reaches for Silas.

I already know what’s coming. The second Ambrose touches him, Silas twists, grabs Ambrose by the collar, and pulls him down with him.

Ambrose crashes to the ground.

Lucien steps back, dusting off his sleeves. “You deserve that.”

Ambrose glares up at him. “You broke first.”

And just like that, Ambrose is in.

Now it’s all four of them, rolling through the dirt, limbs flailing, actual adults fighting like unsupervised children.

Orin watches all of this unfold with the same exhausted expression he’s had since the moment Elias fell out of the sky.

“This is my nightmare,” he mutters.

I lean back on my palms, watching the absolute fucking disaster in front of me. “I don’t know,” I say. “It’s kind of nice to not be the center of the bullshit for once.”

Orin hums, considering. “Fair.”

I should be angry. I should be demanding answers, dragging Lucien into the dirt with the rest of them, demanding to know why I’ve spent the entire day running for my life when apparently no one was trying to kill me.

Instead, I just watch. It’s… stupid. Chaotic. Kind of impressive. And, admittedly, entertaining as fuck.

Then Riven arrives. He steps into the courtyard like he’s been dragged here against his will, scowl already in place, his gaze sweeping over the mess of bodies before locking onto me.

“What,” he growls, “the fuck is this?”

Before I can even answer, Caspian appears beside him, his gaze landing on the scene, and then he grins.

“Oh, this is fun,” he muses. Then he claps Riven on the shoulder. “Shall we?”

“No.”

Caspian shoves him.

Riven snaps.

Within seconds, they’re in it too, Riven launching himself at Caspian, Caspian laughing as he shoves him back, the two of them crashing into the already existing mess of limbs.

I tilt my head, watching as Caspian elbows Ambrose in the ribs. “I don’t get it.”

Orin hums. “You’re not supposed to.”

I frown, glancing at him. “What do you mean?”

He flicks the drained grass away, watching it crumble in the breeze before finally looking at me. “The trial wasn’t for you.”

I blink. “What?”

He gestures toward the fight. “It was for them.”

I stare at the absolute disaster happening in front of me. Lucien has Elias in a headlock. Riven and Caspian are still throwing each other around like unhinged wolves. Silas is laughing so hard he can’t even breathe.

I arch a brow. “What, to see which one of them is the most violent?”

Orin shakes his head. “To see if they’d work with you.”

I scoff. “They weren’t working with me. They were fucking with me.”

Orin tilts his head toward the chaos. “And yet, none of them are trying anymore.”

I pause, glancing back at the fight. And he’s right. None of them are fighting me anymore. They’re fighting each other. Like the trial is already over. Like they’ve moved on. Like I’ve already been accepted.

Something shifts in my chest, something unsteady. “So what, I won?”

Orin snorts. “No.”

I scowl. “Then what the fuck was the point?”

He looks at me, gaze steady. “You made it through the door.” He nods toward the fight. “Now you have to make them stay.”

I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. “Fantastic.”

He leans back on his palms, watching the mess of bodies. “That’s the hard part, you know.”

I glance at him.

He gestures toward them. “They might accept you. But none of them will want to be bound to you.” He meets my eyes, uncharacteristically serious. “You’ve got a lot to learn. But you made headway today.”

I roll my eyes. “By nearly getting murdered?”

Orin shrugs. “Whatever works.”

I might not understand this yet. But I will. And I’ll make damn sure they don’t regret letting me in .

Lucien’s got Elias in a headlock. Caspian and Riven are actively trying to kill each other. Silas is definitely biting someone. Ambrose has been knocked into the dirt, scowling like this entire thing is beneath him, but still very much involved.

It’s ridiculous. It’s fucking stupid. And apparently, this was never about me.

I frown. “So what do I do?”

Orin hums, watching the fight for a moment, then tilts his head at me.

“You make them trust you.”

I scoff. “Yeah, because that’ll be so easy.”

He smirks, small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there.

“You asked.”

I shake my head, leaning back on my palms. “And once I do that?”

His gaze flicks to mine. “Make them want to follow you.”

I hold his stare, something uneasy coiling low in my stomach. “And then?”

His smile widens, just barely. “Make them love you.”

Something in my chest stutters. And for the first time since this trial began, I feel the weight of what I’ve stepped into. The sheer impossibility of it. Trust? Fine. I can work with that.

But love?

I glance at the chaos in front of me. Caspian, who tore me apart just for kissing someone else.

Lucien, who hates the very idea of me. Riven, who’s only ever seen me as something to crush.

Ambrose, who wants me, but only on his terms. Elias and Silas, who fuck around more than they take anything seriously.

And Orin, who’s looking at me now like he already knows I’m in over my head.

I swallow hard.

“You’re serious.”

Orin hums again, gaze steady. “If you want them to bind to you?” He flicks the drained grass into the wind. “Make them need you.”

I exhale sharply, looking back at the mess of men still fighting like children.

Well, shit. How the fuck am I supposed to make seven men fall in love with me?

It doesn’t make sense. How does any of this work?

I glance at Orin again, but he doesn’t say anything else. He’s already given me the answer, make them trust me, make them follow me, make them love me.

I rub my temples, feeling the start of a headache. “That’s insane.”

Orin shrugs. “Welcome to your new life.”

I groan. “I don’t have time for this.”

Seven men. Seven different men, with their own needs, their bullshit, their own reasons for wanting absolutely nothing to do with me.

Won’t I pick a favorite? Won’t that fuck it all up? Or am I supposed to love them all? How do you split yourself into that many pieces without losing something? Without losing yourself?

It’s too much. Too big. Too impossible .

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. “I don’t see how this works.”

Orin hums, watching the fight. “That’s because it hasn’t started yet.”

I scowl. “Great. That’s super reassuring.”

He glances at me, lips twitching like he’s amused. “I didn’t say it would be easy.”

Easy.

No, this will be hell.

And the worst part?

I already know I’m going to try anyway.