Page 149 of The Sin Binder's Chains

“She might be,” he counters. “If she thinks it’ll save the rest of us.”

That’s the difference between them. Between Luna and Layla. Luna would burn the world down for us. Layla would throw herself into the fire without hesitation if it meant we’d walk free. That’s why Severin wants her.

That’s why I hate this plan.

“She’s not ready,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “She’s not like Luna.”

“No,” Lucien murmurs. “But she doesn’t have to be.”

The fire crackles. Somewhere in the woods, something howls, low and broken, like it’s being torn apart mid-breath. Neither of us flinches.

“I’m going to kill him,” I say. Not a threat. A promise.

Lucien’s lips curve, not a smile, not exactly. More like the ghost of satisfaction. “Get in line.”

None of us can die. That’s the fucking rub.

Not Lucien with his dominion, not Orin with his ancient hunger, not Elias with his smartass smirks and impossible manipulation of time. And me? I’ve tried. Trust me. My wrath only feeds me. Makes me harder to kill me. And Silas? The idiot would probably flirt with death and come out grinning, covered in glitter and blood.

But Luna and Layla?

They’re still breakable. Mortal. The glue holding this frayed, cursed tapestry together. Severin knew what he was doing. Healways does. He couldn’t kill us, so he found leverage. Flesh-and-bone leverage with bright eyes and too much damn heart.

I don’t like what I’m thinking. I hate that I’m thinking it.

That maybe we could use Layla. Not to hurt her. Never that. But… Severin wants her. And we need to get the fuck out of this endless loop. Need to find Ambrose. Caspian. Need to stop running in circles through Severin’s nightmare maze, getting clawed apart by monsters made from our regrets.

I glance across the camp. Layla is asleep, finally. Luna’s curled near her like a shield, her eyes half-lidded but alert, fingers twitching like she’s already preparing for another fight. She’s exhausted. We all are. But those two? They’re fragile in a way we aren’t allowed to be.

And Lucien sees it too. I feel his gaze on me before I even turn. His jaw’s set, his mouth a razor line. The firelight glints off the sharp edge of his cheekbone, and for a split second, we both know.

We’re not heroes. Never were. We’ll do what it takes to survive.

Even if that means using the girl who hasn’t asked us for a damn thing but keeps standing beside us anyway.

Lucien finally speaks, voice low and hard. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

I look back at the flames. “Unfortunately.”

Because the truth is, we’re out of time.

And Severin? He’s just getting started.

“Luna won’t agree to it,” I say, my voice low, gritty with the truth I already know she’ll shove down my throat the moment she hears this plan. Because she’s Luna, reckless, bright, infuriating Luna. The girl who still believes there’s another way, even when everything around us says otherwise.

Lucien doesn’t argue. Just nods once, slow and tired, like he’s been holding that truth in his mouth too long and it’s finallystarted to rot. He exhales through his nose, rubs the back of his neck, and stares into the dark beyond the firelight like he’s waiting for Severin to step out of it. “It might be a necessary loss.”

The words hit me like gravel to the ribs, and I flinch before I can stop myself. He doesn’t mean it cruelly, Lucien never does. That’s what makes him worse than me. I burn because it’s the only way I know how to survive. He cuts clean because he thinks it’s mercy.

“You think Severin would hurt her?” I mutter. The idea of it makes something inside me pull tight and savage. I know Severin. We all do. He doesn’t kill his pawns. He turns them into weapons.

“No,” Lucien says. His voice is too calm. “He’ll be just like we are with Luna.”

And that’s the part that makes my skin crawl.

Because I know exactly what he means. Severin won’t maim Layla. He’ll revere her. Worship her. Twist his obsession into something sanctified. She’ll be his, in the same way we are Luna’s, bound not just by power, but by the goddamn marrow of who we are.

And Layla? She won’t survive that kind of attention.

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