Page 51 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)

I study him for a long moment. Because I could let him believe that. Could let him pretend. Could let him keep lying to himself the way he’s been doing since the second his blood mixed with Luna’s. Riven is many things. Ruthless. Unyielding. But he’s not a liar. And I won’t let him become one.

So I sigh, rubbing a hand over my jaw before finally saying, calmly, carefully,

“You loved Maeve.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “And it didn’t save her.”

Riven exhales sharply, but doesn’t turn.

I press on. “You think if you keep Luna at a distance, it won’t hurt when she dies?”

His head snaps toward me, eyes flashing. “I think if I keep her at a distance, she might not. ”

The words hit hard. Because fuck. That’s what this is. That’s what it’s really about. He doesn’t want to love Luna because he thinks love is what killed Maeve.

I exhale, watching him carefully. “You think it was your love that got her killed?”

He glares. “She was bound to me. You know what that means.”

I nod. “It means she was already going to die.” I let the words settle, let them weigh the way they need to. “And you loving her? That wasn’t what did it. That wasn’t what made it worse.” I tilt my head. “That was the only thing that made it worth something.”

He flinches.

And then, he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “That’s some poetic bullshit, Orin.”

“I cared about Maeve too, you know.”

Riven stops mid-stride. Not a freeze, not a dramatic halt, but something small, something tense, the kind of pause that says he’s hearing me whether he wants to or not.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Not like I did.”

“No,” I agree. “Not like you did.”

Because no one loved Maeve the way Riven did. She was fire and storm, sharp edges and soft, steady hands. She was the first Sin Binder in centuries to come close to holding us, and the only one to ever make Riven, Wrath, feel like he could be something other than what he was made for.

Of course he loved her. Of course it destroyed him when she died. But he doesn’t know the whole story. Because I never told him. And maybe I should have. Maybe it would’ve made a difference.

I sigh, stretching my legs out in front of me, watching the way the firelight flickers against the stone floor. “I almost bound to her.”

Brows pulling together, gaze sharp. “What?”

I shrug, keeping my voice even. “I was close.” I tilt my head, thinking back. “She wanted to bind me next. Said she could feel it, the pull.” I exhale. “And she wasn’t wrong. It was there.”

Something shifts in Riven’s expression. Like he doesn’t know what to do with this information. Like he’s sorting through years of memories, reevaluating, searching for signs he missed.

Because Riven, who sees everything, somehow didn’t see this.

“She never told me that,” he mutters.

I hum. “Well. She never got the chance.”

Because she died first. Because she never got to bind me, never got to see if it would work, never got to see if I, the one who never lets himself be tied to anyone, would let her.

And maybe that’s why it hit me so hard. Because I didn’t think I’d ever be able to connect to a Binder the way the others did.

Not fully. Not in a way that would make me bend.

But I almost chose her. And then she was gone.

I lean forward, rubbing my fingers over my jaw, my voice quieter now. “I wasn’t in love with her. Not like you were.” I glance at him. “But I grieved her too, Riv.”

His gaze flickers, something tightening at the edges of his mouth. Because he doesn’t like to think about Maeve’s absence as anything other than his own loss.

And I get it. I do. But I need him to hear me now.

I exhale, tilting my head toward the door where Luna disappeared hours ago. “And now, we have her.”

Riven tenses. “She’s not the same.”

“No,” I agree. “But she’s still ours.”

His jaw locks. And I know that word, ours, rubs him the wrong way. Because he doesn’t want her to be. Doesn’t want to let this bond mean something.

But it already does.

“Luna is scared, Riven.” My voice is steady, but weighted. “She doesn’t know what she is yet. What she means to us.” I pause. “What she means to you.”

His nostrils flare slightly, but he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t try to shove the words away. Because deep down, he knows I’m right.

“She’s going to need you,” I say, watching the way his body locks up at the words. “Especially you.”

He exhales, his voice low, rough, almost resigned. “She shouldn’t.”

“She should,” I counter. “Because you’re the one who understands what’s coming for her.” I tilt my head. “And whether you like it or not, you’re already the one she’s reaching for.”

He stands there shoulders drawn tight, looking like he wants to hit something, or run. It’s always one or the other with him. Fight or leave. But this? This is something he can’t punch his way through.

And he can’t walk away.

Not from her .

Not from this.

I exhale, stretching out on the couch, watching him carefully. "Look, I'm not saying you need to fall in love with her right now." I lift a brow. "But let's be honest, it's going to happen."

His jaw locks. "No, it’s not."

I grin. "It is."

"It's not."

I tilt my head. "It already is."

I can practically hear the grinding of his teeth, the sharp, frayed edges of his self-control wearing thinner by the second.

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. "You don’t have the choice to walk away, Riv." My voice drops, taking on a sharper edge. "You never did. And if you keep fighting the bond, you won’t be able to fight the army that’s coming.”

His nostrils flare, and there it is, that flash of something that isn’t just resistance.

It’s doubt. He knows it’s running through him like blood, like breath, something as instinctive as pulling a blade in a fight.

He wish he could rip it out of himself with his own two hands.

But if he keeps resisting it, keeps resisting her, he's going to break himself before the battle even begins.

“You need to let it go. You need to accept that she’s yours to protect." I watch him closely, lowering my voice. "Yours to care for. Yours to, ”

"Stop." The word lashes out, sharp, violent, like he cut it from himself with a blade.

I sit back, lifting my hands. "I'm just saying, "

"You're saying a lot of shit I don't want to hear."

I smirk. "Yeah, well. I tend to do that. "

His fingers flex, curling into fists, and for a second, I think he might actually swing at me.

Instead, he exhales hard, dragging a hand down his face, gritted, frustrated, undone in a way he doesn't know how to fix.

"She's not mine."

I raise a brow.

He grits his teeth. "She's not."

"Tell that to the bond."

Riven scowls, but he doesn’t respond. Because we both know, He can’t .