But I’m not listening anymore. Because something glints on my wrist.

Gold. A cuff,slim, ancient-looking, etched with runes that shift when I blink. My pulse stalls. I look down, breath caught sharp in my throat.

It wasn’t there before.

And then,

I see it. The twin.

Wrapped around Theo’s wrist. Same metal, same glow. The tether between us like a brand I didn’t ask for, like a sentence I didn’t agree to serve.

“What the fuck…” I whisper, yanking my arm back like it’ll come off.

Theo lifts his hand and looks at the cuff like it’s an old friend. “Huh.”

That’s all he says.

Huh.

And every single one of the men I love steps closer like they might tear him apart,while I stare at the gold around my wrist and feel something ancient click into place.

I’ve just beenbound.

To the Eighth Sin.

Riven

I look down at her wrist,at the gleam of gold coiled there like a fucking shackle,and something primalsplitsin my chest.

It glows.

Not like a spellmark. Not like any of the ancient bonding sigils etched in pain and power that the seven of us bear from when Luna choseus.

This is older. Dirtier. It hums with intention.

And it’sattached to Theo.

I snarl, spin, yanking Luna behind me with one arm, and the moment I do, Theo’s wrist jerks forward, drawn toward her like the world’s sickest leash. His face twists,not in pain, infucking amusement.

“What the fuck did you do?” I growl, stalking toward him.

Theo lifts his arm, turning it like he’s modeling the thing, gold chain barely flexing as he inspects it. “Was going to ask you the same thing, Wrath.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You’re vibrating with it.” He flashes a grin like I haven’t imagined punching it straight off his face for three decades.

Caspian steps beside me, eyes gleaming with something less flirt and moremurder.“You expect us to believe this just… happened?”

Theo shrugs. “Maybe fate has a fucked-up sense of humor. Or maybe,” he glances at Luna, then back at us, “,maybe fate thought binding us was a good way to drive the point home.”

“What point?” Ambrose demands, cold and clipped, the kind of tone that gets kingdoms to kneel or burn depending on his mood.

“That no matter what any of youthinkshe is to you…” Theo’s voice dips. “She’s also mine now.”

I lunge.

Orin catches my arm,not hard, just enough weight to ground me. “Don’t,” he says, quietly. “Not yet.”