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

Ruined by the Sovereign

Chapter 5 

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

play music. It just hummed. A low, bone-rattling vibrat

70.

he would see his reflection. She didn't look left. She focused on the illuminated red numbers

lel to the floor. Inside, she was frantically building walls. She needed to compartmentalize the last

planned, miserable future. She was standing in a metal box with a monster, wearing o

or

olite sound that felt entirely o

or-to-ceiling glass overlooking the glittering, ignorant city below

wasn't ste

anean cell, just dressed up in Italian leather and expensive bergamot. The scent was so heavy, so dominant, it coated the back of her throat

ic

hut behind her. The biometric l

he cage. Jus

t look back to see if she followe

k silk tie, pulling it free and dropping it onto a glass table. Then, he unbuttoned the bespok

a fraction, but it was enough to mak

oulders. He began rolling up his sleeves, exposing thick forearms roped with veins and faint, silvery scars

ail. Or ask for a glass of tap water. Something mundan

e guest room

tly flat. A mastercl

He didn't turn around. He just stood ther

s no gue

re am I s

tactician who had just bloodlessly conquered the pack at a dinner table was gone. The beast

't," he w

welcoming the sharp bite of pain. "I require a minimum of six hours of sleep to mai

her anchor firing under extreme pressur

nd. It wasn't a laugh. It was th

walking t

ore her survival instincts violently overrode he

r, his footsteps entirely silent on th

ed, tasting the words. "Is tha

She didn't look down. "You needed a treaty condition to legitimize yo

"Is that what you were doing in m

und of his teeth cracking her collarbone. The excruciating, tearing heat of hi

throb. A slick rush of heat pooled

ing. She focused intently on the geometric pa

ice dropped an octave, thinning out. "I nee

r step

blades hit co

-five floors down. She analyzed the structural integrity of the reinforced

room, blocking out the light, the air, the entire world. The heat radiating of

e didn't need to. His

next to her head. The other hovered near her throat. "You walked into a cag

fulfilled. We have no

d the shell of her ear. The heat of his breath made her shiver violently. "But do not ins

froze. Her clinical detachment sha

nd moved. His long, calloused fingers wrapped gently

It pressed down, finding the exact spot beneath the fabr

ockwave of dark, suffocating arousal straight down her spine. The fe

d, and just wash it off in the rain," Michael said. His voice

thumb harder ag

ed sound she couldn't swallow in ti

e ones. The predator had caught the pre

ed, his gaze dropping to her trembling

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."”