Page 37 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)

Lucien’s office has always been too neat. Too controlled. A reflection of him, calculated, methodical, sharp edges disguised as refinement.

I lounge in one of the chairs across from his desk, one leg draped over the other, fingers tapping absently against the carved armrest. The air is charged, but not in the way I like. It’s the kind of crackling, expectant stillness that slithers under the skin, setting teeth on edge.

Lucien stands behind his desk, posture impeccable as always, his pale blue eyes scanning the room like he’s already decided which one of us is going to piss him off first.

My bet’s on Riven.

Or Silas, if he’s in the mood to be particularly irritating.

Riven stands near the bookshelves, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone.

Elias is slumped against the far wall, looking half-asleep but too aware.

Silas, lounging by the window, spins a dagger between his fingers, watching the light catch the blade.

Ambrose sits in the chair beside mine, resting his chin on his fist, unreadable as ever.

Orin isn’t paying attention. Not really.

His gaze flickers to Lucien, then to me, then back to the floor, like he’s tracking something none of us can see.

Lucien exhales, slow and measured, as if preparing himself for the disaster that is us.

“Riven,” he says finally. “Tell them what you found.”

Riven’s jaw tics, but he doesn’t hesitate. “Blackwell’s information was… incomplete.”

Lucien lifts a brow. “Incomplete?”

Riven exhales sharply. “He was more afraid of what would happen if he said too much.” His voice is flat, but I catch the undercurrent of something sharp beneath it.

I smirk. “I wonder why.”

Riven ignores me.

Lucien watches him closely. “What did he say?”

Riven’s shoulders roll back, stiff, bracing. “They’re moving faster than we thought. Severin isn’t just gathering numbers, he’s expanding his reach. He’s been feeding power into the Wraiths, strengthening them in ways we’ve never seen before.”

The room stretches tight.

Ambrose shifts in his chair, voice low. “How?”

Riven hesitates. Just for a second. It’s barely noticeable. That’s what makes it worse.

Lucien catches it immediately. “Riven.”

Riven exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “They’re not just Wraiths anymore.” His gaze flickers to me, then to Orin, then back to Lucien. “They’re consuming things.”

Orin’s head snaps up.

Ambrose stills.

Silas stops spinning his blade.

I exhale slowly, rolling my neck. “Define things. ”

Riven’s gaze is heavy. “Magic. People. Whole fucking pieces of time.”

Elias straightens, the exhaustion in his expression sharpening into something colder.

Lucien’s fingers press together, his only sign of unease. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

“No shit,” Riven mutters. “But Blackwell swore it. And he wasn’t lying.” His voice drops. “They’re growing.”

A slow, suffocating weight settles over the room.

Ambrose finally speaks, voice quiet. “And Luna?”

Riven’s expression darkens. “She’s what Severin wants most. And if he can’t take her…” His mouth tightens. “He’ll destroy her instead.”

Lucien’s expression doesn’t shift, but something in his presence sharpens. “Then we need to move.”

I hum, tapping a finger against my lip. “She’s learning.”

Riven scoffs. “Not fast enough.”

I grin, leaning back. “She’s surprising you, isn’t she?”

Riven glares at me, but doesn’t answer.

That’s enough.

I smirk. “She’ll be ready.”

Lucien lifts a brow. “You sound very sure of that.”

I tilt my head, eyes half-lidded. “She’s already learned how to use us.” My smirk deepens. “That’s a promising start.”

Elias groans. “Please tell me you didn’t, ”

“Not yet,” I murmur.

Lucien exhales sharply, rubbing his temple like he already regrets his life choices. “Caspian.”

I grin, slow and lazy. “Yes, dearest leader?”

His gaze sharpens. “If you plan to be useful, make sure she’s not only learning how to manipulate you.”

I laugh under my breath. “No promises.”

Riven looks like he wants to hit me .

Lucien ignores us both, turning his attention back to Riven. “Anything else?”

Riven hesitates. Then, his voice is quieter. “Severin doesn’t just want her bound to him.” His gaze flickers. “He wants her to be like them.”

Lucien’s jaw tics.

Ambrose finally sits up. “He wants to turn her.”

Riven nods once.

The weight of those words settles over the room, slow and suffocating. Because we know what that means. The Sub-Sins aren’t like us. We balance. They consume. If Luna falls into Severin’s hands, he won’t just use her. He’ll unmake her.

Lucien exhales, voice colder than before. “Then we don’t let that happen.”

Riven nods.

Elias rubs his face. “Great. Love a near-impossible task.”

Silas grins. “Keeps things interesting.”

I roll my neck, stretching, feeling something lazy and dark curl beneath my ribs. “Guess I’ll have to make sure she sticks close, then.”

Lucien eyes me, unimpressed. “You’re the last one I trust with that.”

I grin, slow and knowing. “And yet.”

I don’t wait for the others. Because if Luna is going to survive this, She needs more than training. She needs to learn how to play.

I’m halfway to the door when Lucien speaks.

“Sit down, Caspian.”

I don’t stop. Not at first. Not until something in his voice shifts, something sharp enough to slice through my usual disinterest and hook itself beneath my skin .

I glance over my shoulder. Lucien hasn’t moved, but his eyes are on me now, cool and assessing. He taps two fingers against the desk. Once. Twice. A slow, measured beat.

“Meeting’s over,” I say lightly. “Unless you’ve decided to start assigning homework.”

He doesn’t blink. “Not quite.”

I sigh, turning back fully. “Then what? ”

“We need a volunteer.”

Lucien’s gaze sweeps over the rest of them.

Riven, still leaning against the bookshelves, jaw tight.

Elias, looking more awake than he should be, arms crossed.

Ambrose, unreadable. Silas, who has already decided he doesn’t care about this conversation.

Orin, staring at nothing, teeth pressing into his lip.

Lucien exhales, slow and measured. “Luna can’t go into this war without a direct link to our power.”

Something shifts. Riven’s arms tighten across his chest. Elias straightens. Silas flicks a knife between his fingers, gaze flickering with something unreadable.

Lucien continues, voice calm, clinical. “She needs to bond to one of us.”

Silence.

I smirk, leaning against the desk. “You say that like it’s an easy decision.”

Lucien tilts his head slightly. “It should be.”

“No,” Elias mutters. “It really fucking shouldn’t.”

Lucien ignores him. “She needs access to our abilities. She won’t survive without them.”

“She won’t survive with them, either,” Silas says, casual, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Not if she bonds to the wrong one.”

Lucien exhales sharply. “That’s why we choose carefully. ”

“No,” Riven mutters darkly. “That’s why we don’t choose at all.”

Lucien’s jaw tightens. “We don’t have the luxury of avoiding this.”

“No one is avoiding it,” Elias says, dragging a hand through his hair. “We’re just, ” He gestures vaguely toward the room. “Thinking through the absolute fucking nightmare that this could become.”

I exhale, rolling my neck. “He’s got a point.”

Lucien lifts a brow. “You’re concerned?”

I grin, lazy and sharp. “About myself? Never.”

Lucien doesn’t smile.

Ambrose finally speaks, voice even. “You think she’s ready for that kind of bond?”

Lucien’s expression flickers. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Riven scoffs. “That’s convenient.”

Lucien’s gaze sharpens. “Do you want her to die?”

“No.”

“Then- ”

“But I also don’t want to be the one chained to her for eternity,” Riven snaps.

“Dramatic,” I murmur.

Riven glares.

Lucien ignores both of us. “One of you will do this.”

Silas hums, flicking his knife. “Not me.”

Lucien’s gaze shifts. “Silas, ”

Silas grins. “I’d break her.”

No one argues.

Lucien exhales, shifting his attention. “Elias.”

Elias lifts a brow. “No.”

Lucien’s expression doesn’t shift. “You would be the least dangerous, ”

Elias snorts. “Yeah, because trapping her in a literal dream-state would be so fucking helpful.”

Lucien exhales, jaw tightening. “Then who?”

The room is quiet.

And then.

“I nominate Caspian.”

I blink.

Elias hums. “Would make the most sense.”

Silas grins. “We do love a tragic love story.”

I press a hand to my chest. “I feel so valued.”

Lucien pinches the bridge of his nose. “Caspian isn’t an option.”

I grin. “And why not?”

Lucien looks tired. “You know why.”

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “Because my ability would be too much for her fragile, innocent little mortal heart?”

Riven scowls. “Because you’re a fucking problem.”

I smirk. “Admit it. You just don’t want to watch me ruin her.”

Ambrose finally speaks, voice quiet but firm. “Lucien’s right. It can’t be Caspian.”

I pout. “You wound me.”

Lucien ignores me. “So who will it be?”

Silence. Because none of us want to be the one who gives in first. Because none of us want to be bound to her. And worse, none of us want to admit how much we already are.

Lucien watches us, pale blue eyes glinting with irritation, fingers tapping against the desk in slow, measured beats. I wonder how long he’s willing to let this drag out before he forces someone’s hand.

Not long, I’m guessing .

“I think it should be Riven.” The voice is quiet but certain. Orin.

The room shifts. Riven stiffens beside the bookshelves, his entire body coiled like something that wants to snap, but can’t. Orin doesn’t look at him. His gaze is distant, focused on something none of us can see. His fingers twitch at his sides.

Lucien tilts his head slightly. “Explain.”

Orin exhales slowly, rolling his shoulders, like he’s shaking something off. “He’s the best choice.”

Silas hums. “Well, he’s fucked.”

Riven’s head jerks toward Orin, his voice razor-sharp. “No.”

Ambrose, ever the practical one, folds his hands in his lap. “It makes sense.”