Page 103 of The Sin Binders Ascent

She doesn’t laugh, not really, but the edge of her mouth curls up the tiniest bit. It's enough.

“Come on,” I say, shifting carefully beneath her. She tenses at first, and I pause, letting her feel my body under hers before moving again. “You’re all elbows and moral resistance. If I’mgoing to be a human mattress, at least make it easier on my spine.”

I adjust until I’m flat on my back and she’s half draped over me, her thigh across mine, her cheek near my neck. Her body resists it for a second, stiff with protest, but then the exhaustion wins. Her weight settles.

I let out a slow breath.

“There,” I say, threading my fingers lightly through her hair, pushing a damp lock away from her cheek. “Now it’s your turn. You keep watch by snoring at me.”

She mumbles something I don’t catch. Probably an insult. But she doesn’t move. And when her breath evens out a few minutes later, I don’t say anything. Just lie there with her body soft and warm on top of mine, and pretend, for now, that this is something I deserve.

Her breath is steady now, soft against my chest, warm in a way that makes something in me tighten. I let her sleep, just for a little while. She’s curled against me like she didn’t mean to, like her body gave up before her mind could resist. Her hand is pressed lightly against my ribs. There’s no trust in it. Just exhaustion. That’s all.

I keep my eyes on the roots above us, tracing the curve where they twist into each other like blackened ribs. This place is wrong. Not just the usual wrong that comes with being in a nightmare pocket of the world, but the kind that hums under your skin. The kind that waits. There’s something here watching, or waiting, or feeding. Probably all three.

We can’t stay.

I don’t know where we’ll go. Every direction feels like a trap, and I’m not exactly working with a map. But I know this isn’t it. This half-rotted shelter, this dead patch of earth wrapped in rot and old magic, it’s already closing in around us. And thelonger we lie here, the more I feel like we’re not going to wake up whole.

This was never supposed to happen like this. Taking her from them, that was the plan. Make them suffer. Pull her away from the pedestal they built with their blood and love and arrogance. I wanted them to watch her unravel without them, wanted to make themfeelwhat they did to me when they cast me out like a curse.

And I did it. I got her away. They’re cut off from her. They’re searching, bleeding, panicking, probably tearing apart every piece of the world to find her. I won. Technically.

Except nothing about this feels like winning.

She’s not broken. She’s not shattering in my arms, sobbing and begging to be saved. She’s just… quiet. Withdrawn. Like someone cut all the threads inside her and left her floating. And I hate it.

She’s hurting in a way I didn’t account for.

And gods, I can’t stand that I evennotice.I should be pleased. I should be feeding off it. That’s what I do. That’s what Iam.Desire isn’t supposed to ache in the chest like this. It’s supposed to burn. It’s supposed to consume. But this? This feels like something else entirely. This feels like guilt. Like doubt. Like maybe, for all the reasons I had to hate them, I never once stopped to think what it would do toher.

She needs them. I can see it even now, even in sleep. The way her face twitches slightly, like she’s reaching for something she can’t find. Maybe it’s Riven’s hand in her hair. Or Orin whispering something calm to ground her. Maybe Lucien’s voice, cold and steady and unyielding. Maybe Ambrose’s quiet presence beside her. Even Elias with his awful jokes. Silas with his stupid chaos. Caspian and the way he always watches like he already knows.

She’s not just missing them, she’slesswithout them. That’s the part I didn’t plan for. The part I never really believed was real. I thought they had wrapped themselves around her like a noose, that I was the one doing her a favor by pulling her free. But maybe… maybe I was wrong.

Maybe they don’t deserve her. But she deserves something more than this. And that’s what makes me sick. Because I don’t know how to be better. I don’t know how to give her more. I only know how to take. To twist. To keep.

But I look down at her now, her cheek against my chest, her body half draped over mine, and I can’t stomach the idea of leaving her here another minute.

I’ll let her sleep a little longer. Just long enough to get the strength back in her legs. Then we move. Where? I don’t know. Away from this place. Toward something with light. I’ll lie if I have to. I’ll charm her. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her from unraveling completely. And maybe somewhere in the back of my head, I’ll keep a piece of her for myself.

Even if I never deserved to hold any of her at all.

The sound is low at first, so low I almost mistake it for the groaning of the roots above us settling deeper into the rot. But then it comes again, deeper, closer, and it’s not the forest breathing. It’s growling. Thick and heavy, the kind of sound that doesn't come from anything small or cautious. It's followed by a huff, hot and wet, too close to be anything but real. Then I hear the pawing, slow, scraping. Not frantic. Intentional.

Something is outside. And it’s digging. The space under the tree is already too small. We’re packed in tight, no room to shift without brushing bark or bruising each other. I go still, barely breathing, my arm tightening instinctively around Luna. Her body is still relaxed. But that won’t last. Her instincts are sharp. She’ll feel it any second now.

The huff comes again, this time louder. Closer. The scent of wet fur and turned earth seeps in around us. I can hear the soil shifting, clawed feet scraping at it. Heavy. Deliberate.

I whisper her name, just once.

Her body jerks like someone dropped her into ice water. Her eyes fly open, wide and wild, her hands instantly going to my chest like she’s going to shove me off. Panic hits her fast. She doesn’t know where she is, not yet. I can feel the scream building in her throat, feel her lungs tightening, ready to fight.

“Luna,” I say, firm and quiet, one hand at the back of her neck. “Don’t make a sound. Something’s out there.”

She freezes. I feel her heartbeat slam against mine.

There’s another scrape of claws against the earth, this one closer. The sound of something massive snorting through a nose that’s far too close to the entrance of our shelter.

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