Novelas y relatos de Edge Of Ruin

The Edge of Shadows The bitter wind howled through the ruined valley, carrying with it the scent of ash and despair. Saraphina tightened her grip on John’s trembling hand, feeling the coldness seeping through his skin. The chasm beneath them pulsed with an eerie blue flame that danced like restless spirits trapped between worlds. Around them, the remnants of a once-majestic temple lay in shattered ruin, broken pillars and scorched stone telling silent stories of betrayal and bloodshed.

Chapter 11: The Edge of Secrets The path from the ambush site led them into an abandoned outpost nestled between jagged cliffs. Raven had chosen the place deliberately—it used to belong to her father’s scouts before the war turned it to rubble and silence. Now, it would serve as a place to rest. Heal. Talk. Night had settled in by the time they reached the stone ruins. A flickering fire danced between them, the only source of light besides the silver sliver of moon above.

"Choose wisely." His hand falls away and his fingers slide back inside me. Same pace. Building me up expertly. He knows my body better than I do—knows exactly what pressure, what angle, what rhythm will destroy me. Right to the edge— He stops. I bite my lip so hard I taste copper. He does it again. And again. He brings me to the edge seven times. Eight. I lose count. Each time I get close, he stops. Pulls away. Waits.

I walked to my wardrobe searching for the right clothes to wear. I decided on black undies then Green long sleeved shirt, black leggings and black low cut vans. I always make sure to wear long sleeved shirts so as to cover my bruises. I faced my bedside mirror, i glanced at my face contemplating on whether to put on makeup or not. Nah!! I look okay like this. I just brushed my wavy blonde hair so it tumbles past my shoulders. I put a little blush on my cheeks and smiled in the mirror. My green long sleeved shirt matching with my forest green eyes. I smiled again, at least let me be happy for once.

With that, I fought through the stabbing pain in my lower back, pushed myself to my feet, and made my way to the wedding venue's back exit. Yvette's voice, full of haughty triumph, stopped me. "Jayden! The wedding's not done! Where do you think you're going?" I did not look back, my stride firm and unwavering. "There's no wedding left, Yvette. We're square."

"Boss wants you ruined." South Side steel surged, mind racing escapes, body braced shatterpoint. Warehouse shadows closed, pliers inching, squeeze—cliff of ruin absolute.

But underneath all of that was the sharper, unfinished ache Richard had left behind—the phantom press of his fingers, the low promise that he could ruin me deeper than his son ever would. I showered longer than necessary, scrubbing until my skin felt raw, as if I could wash both of them off me. It didn’t work. When I looked in the mirror, my lips were still slightly swollen and there was a fresh reddish mark high on the side of my neck that I couldn’t quite hide with my hair. I chose a high-neck sweater anyway.

The sword known as the treasure of Blade's Reach was destroyed by Adrian. Hansen looked at the shattered Lunar Edge, completely stunned. The next moment, Adrian struck again with the Hellblade, which carried a killing intent that surpassed everything. The attack was about to fall on Hansen's neck.

The encrypted message in his breast pocket seemed to burn through the Brioni suit fabric: *"She remembers. Come alone. Bring the case."* The mountain pass opened abruptly to reveal a concrete bunker carved into the cliff face. No signage. No visible security. Just a single retinal scanner glowing red in the storm-dark. The blast doors parted with a hydraulic hiss. The sterile white corridor stretched into the mountain's heart, its walls lined with containment cells. Harris's polished Oxfords clicked against the antimicrobial flooring as shadows moved behind frosted glass—too large to be human, their shapes blurring at the edges.

The end didn’t come quietly. It came with headlights cutting through the trees. With boots crunching gravel. With the silence between them thick as blood. They had been happy. Or something close to it. A crooked version of happiness, made of stolen mornings and whispered names, of shared breath and locked doors. But nothing built on ruin lasts forever. He felt it before she did—the shift in the air. They were closing in. Keiran had stood in the kitchen, hands trembling for the first time in years. Nicole had found him there, frozen, knife still in hand, the sound of her voice barely reaching him.