Edge Of Ruin Novels & Stories

Protected. Stone ruins stood at its center—ancient, worn, but still standing. Vines curled around the structures, and faint markings etched into the stone pulsed with barely visible energy. Rowan blinked. “…okay, that’s new.” Ember looked around. “It’s beautiful.” “It’s safe,” Darius said. “For now,” Storm added. Rose stepped forward slowly. Drawn. The moment her foot crossed the edge of the clearing— The air shifted. A pulse of energy rippled outward from the ruins.

POV ESMERAY The ruins of The Vault were still smoldering, a blackened ribcage of steel and concrete rising from the industrial dirt of Blackridge. But Ruan Montague wasn't looking at the wreckage of his home. He was standing on the edge of the pier, his back to the flames, watching the fog roll off the Pacific. He wasn't running. He wasn't hiding.

Ruin Me, Enemy Daddy is dark, heavy and filled with surprises. Please read the following carefully. - Strong language - Explicit sexual content - Violence and graphic scenes - Murder and assassination - Torture - Emotional abuse and manipulation - Coercion and obsessive behavior - Moral ambiguity - Betrayal - Forced proximity and captivity - Death of loved ones This is a dark mafia romance. The love here is complicated and it is costly. The characters are flawed in ways that will frustrate you, unsettle you, and at certain points make you question everything you thought you wanted from a love story. That is intentional and frankly the point.

“The veil is thinning. She’s breaching through reflections.” Aaron looked between us, unsettled. “So what, now we can’t even look at puddles without being haunted?” Sylra ignored him. “If she’s invading the physical realm, we don’t have much time before she manifests fully.” Edward’s jaw tightened. “Then we find Aelthir and stop her before she does.” We reached the outer edge of the ruins by nightfall. The place was a graveyard of stone and silence. Massive pillars jutted out of the ground like broken teeth, and the faint glow of runes pulsed across the cracked earth. In the distance, a single tower stood half-collapsed, its shadow stretching endlessly across the valley.

"To protect the world, of course. To protect our kingdoms, our continents, our people. You contain a curse inside you that will destroy us all if left unchecked. It's my sacred duty to stop that from happening." "No," I said firmly. "I don't believe that. I don't believe I'm cursed or destined to destroy anything." "Well, that's none of my business what you believe," he said dismissively. "The important thing is that you're here now, and you're going to—" But before he could finish his sentence, the warehouse door exploded inward with a deafening crash. Dust and debris filled the air as a figure stepped through the destroyed entrance, power radiating from him in waves so intense I could feel

I had intended to break her, to firmly remind her who exactly she married but the moment she stood over Gerald, cold and completely unbothered about the pooling blood, something stupid snapped inside me, she looked so damn good playing the boss. And then this bitch broke my nose, I touched the bridge of my nose, wincing slightly as a fresh throb of pain shot through my face. I pulled over at the secure yard a few blocks away from the warehouse, stepping into the cool night air, I washed the blood from my face and stripped out my ruined shirt, staring into the cracked mirror of the locker room, I looked deep into my own eyes. Rowan Moretti had officially declared war, he had shot my brother,

He spread his hands slightly then his face turned at the sound of the door. “Oh, there he is. You'll all be interning directly under him,” he said. I turned to the door and my heart stopped dead in my chest. No, this can't be. It can't be. “Everyone, meet my son and the heir to the Santiago enterprise,” Eduardo reiterated, with a proud smile on his face. The familiar stranger of the other night walked in, dressed up in a two-piece pitch black suit that reflected the jet black color of his hair and emphasised the rare grey color of his eyes.

He pushed off the boards, wobbled again, then came straight at me like an idiot with something to prove. He almost made it. Then his edge caught wrong and he crashed hard into the boards with a loud bang that echoed through the empty rink. I winced. "You good?" "Perfect," he muttered, face pressed against the plexiglass. When he pushed himself up, blood was dripping steadily from his nose. "Shit." I skated over without thinking. "Hold still." I grabbed his chin to tilt his head back. He tried to pull away but I held firm.

"Brother." The wind carried his words away. And somewhere deep below, buried under tons of stone, the Lycan Vault lay in ruins. Its power scattered to the winds. Its weapon destroyed forever. And with it, the last remnants of Morgana Blackthorne's terrible revenge.

Cassius’s grip finally slackened. The blood-soaked hammer slipped from his bloody fingers, clattering loudly against the concrete floor. He staggered back two sharp steps, his broad chest rising and falling in, desperate gulps of air. He stood in the dim light, wiping a streak of warm, sticky red across his jaw, his eyes fixated on the ruin at his feet. "I will take... everything from you, Killian..." Cassius rasped. "I will ruin your company... your legacy... and I will make Elara love me while you burn."