Romans & histoires God Of Ruin Audiobook

The unlocked vault was a digital heart of darkness. It contained more than financial records; it was a ledger of human corruption. Blackmail, silenced witnesses, falsified safety reports on overseas factories. And there, among the files, was the full, unedited audio of Charles’s conversation with Kaelan. It was the shadow empire. Liam, his face pale but determined, scrolled through the file structure with a focus that was startling. The clarity of revenge had sharpened his mind. “Here,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Audio files. Sorted by date.”

Elara replied flatly, before completely dismissing her and turning back to the rings. "Isn't your father's company at the brink of ruin?" Jane said, "Soon enough, Roman will be taking absolute control of it. Once that happens, we will see if you can still maintain that arrogant look on your face." 'For the love of God, could this woman just stop talking and leave?' Elara felt her anger rising, but she kept her composure as she turned around to face her fully.

But curiosity had always been my fatal flaw. ‎ ‎My fingers trembled as I approached a shelf, drawn to a black folder with a photograph sticking out. I quickly turned on my flashlight to see a man in an expensive suit shaking hands with another figure whose face was circled in red ink. Notes scrawled in Daniel’s sharp handwriting covered the margins: “offshore accounts, money laundering, eliminate loose ends.” ‎ ‎The blood in my veins turned to ice water. ‎

Ash tried to scream, to throw his sword, but he was too slow. Rhea didn't flinch. She didn't even raise her hands. She simply opened her mouth. The sound that came out wasn't a scream. It wasn't a howl. It was a roar that seemed to come from the very bowels of the earth, a sound so loud and so alien that it caused the obsidian trees to shatter into dust. It was the roar of a world being unmade. It was the sound of the Ruin.

There were many legends of slumbering gods, but only one had ever been connected to blood sacrifices, shadow beasts, and wars that nearly wiped out entire kingdoms. Harley blanched. “Are you saying—” “Harley,” I cut in softly. “There’s only one god sealed under the Iron Mountains.” Her breath hitched. “Scarlett… no. No, that can’t be…” Adam spoke the name like a death sentence. “Aethyros. The God of Ruin.” Silence. Horrible, fucking, suffocating silence. My hands curled into fists. If Aethyros was waking, if he was behind the kidnappings, the tunnels, the strange attacks, then this wasn’t a war. He had just been playing with us. This was annihilation.

“And what do you propose I do about it, huh? I’m powerless! I can only see fates and not interfere with them, I can barely fight, I can’t shift because I don’t even know if I am a true wolf shifter! What can I do? I’m weak!” Ruin takes my face in his rough hands and I feel that familiar warmth heading towards my eyes. The dark starts fading from my vision until I only see his face; the concern evident in his eyes. “Now you listen to me and you listen well,” he says, his voice low. “The Gods themselves are terrified of you and what you can do. Don’t you dare call yourself weak or powerless.” I shake my head, swatting his hands away. “That’s not me, that’s who I will be in years to come. Right

The ruins quaked violently as Erythos stirred, his presence distorting the air itself. Though he was not yet fully free, his awakening reshaped the battlefield, the sky darkened to an abyssal void, the earth split into jagged fissures, and unnatural flames erupted where stone once lay undisturbed. A god was rising, and reality itself recoiled at his return.

The fire cracked softly between us. No one spoke. Not me. Not Kael. Not even Lena, who now looked like she regretted saying anything at all. But it was too late. The words had already settled inside me like poison. The last Queen of Ruin didn’t die. She was reborn. I stared at the flames, trying to steady my breathing. “That’s impossible,” I said finally. Lena shifted awkwardly near the doorway. “It’s just a legend.”

He started at my sandals, moved up my tanned legs, lingered on the curve of my hips in my denim shorts, and finally locked onto my eyes with an intensity that made my stomach flip. "Took you long enough," he said. His voice had dropped an octave, turning into a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in my chest. He didn't wait for a greeting. He stepped forward, his scent hitting me instantly—a mix of cedar, salt, and raw masculinity. He reached past me to grab my suitcase, his arm brushing against my shoulder. The brief contact felt like an electric shock. He didn't pull away immediately, letting his body hover just inches from mine for a heartbeat too long before he stepped back and gestured i