Romans & histoires Black Butler: Book Of Murder Part 2

I brought it to my lips, never breaking eye contact with him. Then I ate it. He watched every second of it. And when I swallowed, I finally said, in a low and defiant voice, maybe even a little teasing. “Well. I guess I’ll let you know in five minutes if I drop dead.” His eyes darkened. But the corner of his mouth curved. I was still tasting the lingering sweetness of pomegranate on my tongue when a shadow loomed over the table. “Theron Blackmoor,” a man spoke, his voice cutting through the ambiguous atmosphere between us. He tried so hard to sound important that even I could tell he was fake.

Raina’s question tore through the room. I nodded, the motion small but absolute. I’d read every terrible detail. Raina sucked in a breath. “He can be charged with murder, well, except for a thousand reasons why he won’t be. Evidence, influence, people who disappear…” Her voice faltered on the last word. “There’s more in this ledger than I first thought,” I said. “This alone could bring them down.” Raina’s face went hard with resolve. “Don’t rush it. We need the Black Book. If we move too fast or make a mistake, this will blow back on us. Patience is key.”

The grand library, once a room where billion-dollar mergers were whispered into existence over crystal tumblers of scotch, was now thick with the stale smell of expensive cigars and the bitter rot of defeat. ​Arthur Blackwood sat behind his mahogany desk, his fingers trembling as he traced the rim of a glass. His eyes were bloodshot, fixed on the rain-streaked windows. He was a man suspended in a state of lethal waiting, his ears straining for a phone call from the Jackals—the mercenaries he had sent into the dark to retrieve the daughter he had sold and the man he had failed to kill. ​The heavy oak doors of the library burst open, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

"Stop crying—you're giving me a headache! Fine, I'll bring him back! A worthless piece of trash, and you're shedding tears over him!" He sent the family butler with a thick stack of banknotes to the brothel. An hour later, the butler returned, white as a ghost. He dropped to his knees the moment he stepped through the door, trembling like a leaf in autumn wind. "Master... too late, too late!" he wailed. "I went to the brothel, and the manager there said the young master... he died of illness. Two weeks ago." Matthew let out a sharp cry, rolled his eyes back, and fainted on the spot.

She's raging with fury right now that the Black Clan had sent their welcoming gift. "You don't understand, Rose. This . . . this is an invitation from the Black Clan . . . for Phase 2." Everyone scrunched up their foreheads in confusion as they looked at Ash. They were expecting some codes, cryptic notes, from the Black Clan. Certainly not an invitation, which depicted a rather horrible and brutal way scene, it was out of the question. But if Ash says so, why? Why has the Black Clan sent them this strange kind of invitation?

A nail in the coffin each was set with a scalpel. When the final page was dropped, Samuel and his empire were in shambles right before your eyes. His hands shook by his sides. The murderer of rivals, the tyrant of judges, he who had been ordering killings, shivered. You believe you could stroll in here and steal mine? His voice broke, rising. This house, this name, this power, it is Blackwood! Her eyes met his and Leya moved forward. “No. It was stolen. And now… it is returned.”

He ran into the kitchen and immediately wanted to storm through the open back door, but had to brake, because right in front of the door was a blood-covered woman with blond hair, right next to a dead Proles - more precisely an Iuba. This creature was in the shape of a German shepherd, but was at least a head taller, if not more. It was striped gray and black and had a lion-like mane that was only a little darker than the rest of the fur. It had a long tail with long hangings and a little goatee under its chin.

"Page 18, word 15." I turned over to page 18 and mentally counted the number in my head. There were five heads all crowded together to get a glance at the last word. The last term and the clue would be solved, we would know who the murderer is, the drug dealer, the one who may or may not have burned my father, the one who created havoc in our lives. "Butler." I breathed out. Everyone took a step back, eyebrows furrowing. "The killer is a am butler?" Liam asked confusedly. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I ..am sorry Little one...pl...ease.. don't...punish me like th..is..." It took everything in me to not go and help him. Leaving him to his condition. Picking up the book from under the mattress, I turn around to leave. Looking at him over my shoulder, one last time. "Goodbye Silas. Hope you live a good life." "No ..Pl...ese...stop..." Sighing ,I turn my back on him. Walking down the halls. To look at the mysterious book in my hands. I am coming death wolf. Alexandria Black is coming to get what you took from her.

I asked again. “I’m you.” The voice said. “I’m your wolf. I’m Nyx.” My wolf is a massive black wolf? And I don’t mean just the fur. Her eyes are completely black, the pads of her paws are black, her claws are black. Even her teeth are black. Not from decay either. She is the most solid black wolf I have ever seen. She is more massive and blacker than Aiden’s wolf. This doesn’t make any sense; I’m not an alpha. I thought only alphas got black wolves. “Nyx? How did you get in these chains? How long have you been here?”