Page 128 of The Sin Binders Ascent

“You coming, or are you going to admire me from back there all day?”

Arrogant bastard.

I slide my hand into his, and the contact hits like it always does, sharp, electric, intimate in a way that shouldn’t be possiblefrom something so simple. His grip is warm, strong, callused in a way that says he’s fought for everything he’s ever touched. And right now, he’s holdingmelike I matter more than the ground we’re standing on.

He tugs me forward, not hard, just enough to steady me as I plant a foot on the root beside him. I’m aware of everything. The way our arms brush. The way his chest rises close to mine. The way his gaze slips to my mouth and then back up with deliberate slowness.

He’s not trying to be polite. He wants me to see him wanting me.

It’s devastating.

“Put your foot here,” he says, reaching past me to tap a knot in the bark.

His chest brushes mine when he moves. Just barely. But it doesn’t feel accidental.

It feelsintentional.

I inhale. So does he.

“This close to throwing you off this root,” I murmur, my voice catching in my throat.

His lips curve. “This close to pulling you against me and seeing if that’s really what you want.”

I look up at him, my fingers still curled in his, and gods, he’s not just beautiful, he’s dangerous. The kind of dangerous that ruins a person quietly, makes you crave the damage like it’s a privilege. That mouth, that heat in his eyes, the way his voice dips low just for me, it all feels tailored, like my undoing was carved into him.

He helps me climb the next step, his palm against my lower back, firm and steady. I move too fast, my foot slipping on the bark slick with dew, and he catches me before I fall, one arm sliding around my waist, the other gripping my wrist tight.

I land hard against him.

My breath vanishes.

His body is heat and strength, andpromise. My hands splay across his chest without thinking, feeling the way he’s breathing, measured, deep, like he’s keeping something barely caged. I glance up.

He’s already looking at me. Not smiling. Not smirking. Justwatching, like he’s cataloging every part of me.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly, the words low and sure. “Even if you fall.”

Something inside me breaks a little at that. Not in pain, just in sheer, raw ache. Because he means it. It’s not a line. It’s a vow. It’s his soul cracking open enough to let me see it.

I swallow hard. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me.”

“I know,” he answers, his thumb brushing the side of my waist, slow and reverent. “Say the word, Luna, and I’ll be dangerous for you.”

And that’s when I know. I want him to make the first move. But gods help me, I’mthis closeto making it myself.

Theo

The rain doesn’t fall so much ascrawl. Thick droplets drag across the sky like something old and slow is wringing out the clouds by hand. They fall heavy, warm, like the world is sweating through its skin. But the rock formation we found, jagged, half-caved in, black with streaks of silver like molten ore frozen in time, shelters us. It's tall enough to block most of the rain, hollow enough to keep the wind from sneaking in. It smells faintly of minerals and wet stone, but not rot. That’s rare here. A small mercy.

She lowers herself with a breath that sounds more like exhaustion than relief, legs folding under her in a way that looks uncomfortable but determined. Always determined. That’s the thing about her, she burns like someone who doesn’t know how to stop. Even when she’s limping, scraped, bruised, her energy thinned down to stubborn willpower, she keeps going like motion is the only thing keeping her from shattering.

And I admire the hell out of her for it.

She leans back against the stone, arms resting loosely across her knees. Her hair is damp at the ends, clinging to her jaw and collarbone. Her eyes flick to the trees beyond the rain, watching shadows move between the trunks. Her body looks like it’s at rest, but I know her mind isn’t. Not for a second.

She still believes there’s a way out.

I envy her for that. For holding onto hope like it’s a weapon instead of a weight. She still has something to return to. Her men, her family, the life she carved out of something darker than most would survive. She keeps that future in front of her like a star she can chase through this place.

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