icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon
Ruined by the Sovereign

Ruined by the Sovereign

icon

Chapter 1 

Word Count: 1322    |    Released on: 05/06/2026

out on the marble floor w

pping down her crystal water glass and decided it

rbon, fear sweat, and the heavy, cloying perfume of the pack elite. Two hundred purebloods stood in dead silence, their

ance. He stood tall in his tailored suit, his jaw ticking with performative regret. "A true Alpha nee

p sucked the oxy

ck into a severe, flawless knot. Her high-collared silk dress covered every inch of her skin from her collarbones to her wrists. She was

as a disca

t as she leaned into Ryan's chest. It was a beautiful performance. Elena had been sleeping with Ryan for six months.

crystal rattled. "Fix this," he hissed in her ear, his voice a venomous

ne didn't do panic. She was a dissociator. When the pressure breached a critical

ass had left on the pristine tablec

eed a napkin,"

red at her, ho

silk skirt, turned her back on the most powerful wolves in the city, and walked toward the exit. The

just doin

st bidder. A Council Elder. A border pack Alpha. She would be traded, locked in a different gla

oy the me

security wing. The guard at the desk wasn't looking at the monitors. He was gl

ring of keys hung on a brass hook. The digital passcards w

The metal was freez

vator and pressed the button for

he atmosphere shifted. The scent of bergamot and champagne faded, swallowed

ived in the clouds, trading bloodlines like stock options. But d

or doors g

dark. The sound echoed off the stone. Her designer heels clicked too loudly against the floor. It was

oot across the f

a solid steel door, reinforce

ll

ful Alpha. Five years ago, the Elder Council declared him feral. They said a genetic madness had taken his mind, t

es about the monster in the b

s teeth into her, if he filled her with feral venom, her bloodline would be permanently corr

eavy iron key

anism gave a loud, metallic clack that s

led the

that smelled intensely of sharp pine, dried blood, and a feral, overwhelming heat. It hit Jane's lun

epped

ose

er left. It wasn't a roar. It wasn't a growl. It was a dark, raspy

s to grip the heavy steel handle and pulled

the pitch black

ispered. His voice moved. He wasn't chained to the w

hat was the problem with being terrified-she always got terribly practical. "

The heat radiating off his massive frame sent a violent

ndly into the dark. "I need to be ruined. I need you to corrupt

al, suffocat

of iron chains dragge

ter than a massive man ever should. The heavy chains rattled violently. A massive, calloused

idn't squeeze, but the sheer, overwhelming threat of h

ending a terrifying spike of

dy to bleed,

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open
Ruined by the Sovereign
Ruined by the Sovereign
“She didn't run when her fated mate rejected her; she walked straight into the subterranean fighting pits to be ruined. If the pack wanted her pedigree pristine for their golden boy, she would make sure her womb was violently, irrevocably corrupted by their locked-away nightmare. She just didn't expect the feral beast she fucked in a blood-stained cell to wear a bespoke Tom Ford suit to breakfast three days later. Jane was bred to be the perfect Luna, a pureblood mare for the future Alpha, Ryan. When Ryan humiliated her on Mating Day by claiming her perfect half-sister instead, Jane didn't break. She dissociated. Seeking absolute destruction of her political worth, she stole the warden's keys and descended into solitary confinement. She offered herself to Michael, the Blood Sovereign and Ryan's older, feral brother who had been locked in the dark for years. The claiming was a blindingly explicit transaction of teeth, slick heat, and suffocating pine. She left him in the dark, thinking she'd won her sick little game. Then came the pack dinner. Michael isn't chained. He isn't feral. He sits at the head of the table, executing a hostile takeover of the pack with cold, surgical precision. While discussing finances with her father, Michael pushes a wave of dark arousal through their hidden bond, watching Jane's knuckles turn white. When Ryan sneers that purebloods don't take leftovers, Michael's tactical facade slips just enough to be terrifying. He reaches across the table, his thumb pressing exactly over the hidden, raw puncture wounds on Jane's neck, and whispers, "My knot doesn't wash out."”