Page 187 of The Sin Binder's Chains

“I wasn’t even doing anything,” he mutters. Sulky. Defensive.

Dorian turns his head away, lips pressed tight like he’s trying not to laugh. Alistair exhales, slow and sharp, like he knew this was coming and still didn’t want to see it.

Severin watches with narrowed eyes. Not amused. Not indifferent. Something between possessive and intrigued.

But Layla doesn’t look at any of them. Just Soren.

“I see the way you look at me,” she says. Calm. Controlled. “Like you’re already undressing me with your eyes. Like you think you’ll get to touch.”

Soren shifts, jaw tight, mouth opening, but nothing comes out.

“And I’m telling you now,” she continues, stepping closer, “if you so much as breathe near me without permission, I will rip that pretty mouth off your face and wear it as a belt.”

Lucien whistles low under his breath.

Even I blink.

Soren lifts his hands in mock surrender, expression souring. “Alright, alright, fucking hell. Message received.”

Layla doesn’t nod. Doesn’t soften. She turns on her heel and keeps walking, vanishing into the shadows of the Temple like she’s the one we should all be afraid of.

Lucien mutters, “Well. That went better than expected.”

I shoot him a look. “You call that better?”

He shrugs. “She’s alive. And not broken yet. I’ll take it.”

And for a second, just a sliver, I feel it too.

Not hope. Not exactly.

But something like it.

The kind that doesn’t belong in men like me.

“Good luck with all that,” I mutter, nodding once toward Severin.

He doesn’t respond. Just stands there, carved in salt and spite, that golden mouth too still now, like maybe he’s finally wondering if this was a mistake.

It is.

But it’s already too late.

Layla disappears through the cracked stone archway without so much as a glance back. No hesitation. Not defiance. Just certainty. Like she’s already decided where all of this ends, and Severin’s the last to figure it out.

He should’ve walked away.

But the pull’s too strong.

He follows. Dorian’s next. Alistair. Even Soren, still muttering to himself like he doesn’t understand why she got under his skin when he didn’t even touch her.

They trail after her like men walking into the woods for a woman they swore they wouldn’t die for, and are about to anyway.

Lucien watches until they vanish, then turns and starts walking. No signal. No glance. Just trust that I’ll follow.

I do.

Neither of us speak until the Temple’s long behind us, and the ground stops humming with Severin’s shadow.

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