Dire Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #1)

by Sable Sorensen

That’s the only way to ensure Siphons die; you need to behead them.

From the first day I saw him, I knew he was a psycho, bloodthirsty monster, and here’s my proof. He’s so much worse than I ever imagined. And for once, it doesn’t disgust me. Because this unhinged killer is on my side.

take back every thought I’ve ever had about wanting him to be nicer. I liked him better when he wanted me dead.

“Let me be your family now,” he says softly. Taking a step backward, he slowly lowers himself onto one knee.

“Meryn,” she hisses. “You are not in the right place to make this decision.”

“There’s so much in my head. It’s… loud. I want to scream, but when I open my mouth, no sound will come out. I’m stuck. Something is stuck.”

But I’m done pretending I trust her. There’s someone else I do trust, who has always prioritized me.

Tomorrow, you’ll get your sister back. Tomorrow, we’ll make my father pay. Tomorrow, the throne is ours.”

Her loyalty makes me feel guilty for shutting her out.

before we proceed to the blessing, we will have a final free-for-all battle.”

King Cyril slams the Dire Blade into the platform at his feet. “Begin.” And chaos breaks loose.

“Meryn, what have you done?” he shudders out, stepping away from me with wide eyes, hands shaking.

“Yes. Anassa, I order you to tell your mate where the crown is. I order your mate to get the crown and bring it here, to us.”

“Chiara Sturmfrost is dead. Meryn Sturmfrost has returned. Long live Queen Sturmfrost.”

“I’m the rightful queen of Nocturna, aren’t I?” I ask. Stark’s eyes spark, he takes a single step back, and he bows down on one knee, hand to his chest. “Welcome home, my queen.”

“Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch you at the Forging Ball in the dress I picked for you”—What?!—“swirling in your lover’s arms and bowing to his traitor father?”

I know you had limitations from the curse, but surely at some point you could have said, Hey, by the by, your betrothed is a gaslighting piece of shit?

“Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”

“I’d tell you not to put yourself in danger,” he says, “but I know you better than that.” I bite my lip, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re worried?” He scoffs. “Never. You are the danger. Any person who doesn’t see that deserves what’s coming to them.”

I’ve done it before for other men. I’ve let them look at the tremble in my hands and assume it’s because I’m afraid, not because I’m imagining wrapping those hands around their throats.