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."”