Romans & histoires The Edge Of Ruin

The echoes are still there, waiting, and they’ll be louder than ever when we return. 🖤 Echoes of Ruin resumes January 1st.

His expression was grim. “You both need to see this,” the Guardian said. “There’s something… at the edge of the ruin. I don’t know how it survived.” Lyra followed Kael and Malric through the shadows to where the earth had broken open—just shy of the Gate’s destroyed core. There, half-buried in ash and silver stone, was a body. Or what remained of one. Cloaked in Hollowed One robes. Mask shattered. Skin burned to bone. And carved into his chest—

A low growl started deep in his chest—a sound that vibrated through the metal bench and into my own bones. "Dust," Viggo rumbled. "Sulfur. And... fear. Old fear. Waiting fear." "Range?" "Close. The canyon ahead." I leaned forward to peer through the reinforced slit of the viewport. Outside, the world was a blur of red dust and grey rock. We were entering the Razor’s Edge. A narrow pass flanked by towering cliffs of unstable sandstone. It was the perfect kill zone. "Check weapons," Barzil ordered. The sound of charging gauntlets and safety catches clicking off filled the small space. Click-clack. I reached for the combat knife at my belt. My hand shook slightly.

Together, they moved into the chaos of the palace alive with shouts and running feet, flames visible through upper windows, guards streaming toward the fire while three figures slipped through the shadows toward the gate. Rourke and Mira vanished into the night, the ledger their passport to whatever future they could build. Kaelan watched them go, then turned toward the Western Gate, Elara at his side. "You saw something in there," she said quietly as they walked. "In yourself. Something you didn't want me to see." "I've spent twenty years trying to bury that version of me." His voice was tired, old. "The one who does whatever it takes. The one who leaves men to burn."

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.

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,

Jax next to him. The ground shook beneath them. The ruin split open. Nova and Elle dropped out of sight. Fin bolted before the dust settled. Two rounds of blood. A shift that buckled her knees. And now she'd vanished into the earth. Fin's patience ran out the same second she did. Fin tore forward. Stairs. Carved straight down into the earth where the ruin had been moments before. Xeon: Blood again. I've had enough. Mindlink her. Fin agreed.

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.

XADEN I can feel it- my wolf clawing beneath my skin, pacing, snarling, threatening to tear through my flesh to hunt and destroy. But I’m not going to let it. Not tonight. I trudge through the staircase of the fourth floor, heading to the eighth, the building that’s off-limits. But privately- not to me. I couldn’t wait to get in there. The feral edge is closer than it had been in months, pressing hard against the thin control I have left.

AILANI’S POV. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” I spinned around sharply bumping into a shelf, the wood shaking and threatening to fall over. I closed my eyes prepared for the impact. The sound of old books and the smell of the dust that covered them invaded my senses. A few moments passed after not feeling the impact so I opened my eyes. They widened from what they were witnessing. The wood hanging above our heads had splintered into two sharp ends and one of them pierced Enzo in his right arm, just below his elbow. Blood gushing out from the assaulted area.