Black Hat Vs Alastor Novels & Stories

The room consisted of the Moon Shadow pack’s highest-ranking members and the honour race and at the moment every single one of them was silent. “Alaster Dark is a psychopath.” I shook my head to rid myself of the mental image and the smell of blood as it seeped onto the floor. “Are you okay?” Alpha Allison looked at me with concern shining in her eyes. “Death isn’t a new concept to me, it’s the way he delivered a verdict on the man’s life without a moment’s hesitation that bothers me.” My jaw clenched.

“You have us here now. Is this about the deal my father stole from you? If that’s what you wanted, taking my family wasn’t the way to get it.” He chuckled, stepping forward. Ryker growled low in warning, but Alastair only grinned. “You’re the one who killed my advisor, aren’t you?” he asked, directing his gaze toward Ryker. “I should be angry about that. But honestly? He was long overdue. Consider that a favor you did me.” That’s when it truly hit me—Alastair wasn’t like the enemies we’d faced before. He wasn’t driven by power, revenge, or any rational goal. He was pure madness. A creature with nothing to lose, and that made him the most dangerous kind of monster.

"I need a dozen you to stay here. I don't want another pack or rogue stepping foot inside this territory. Damian, you will be in charge while we are in the territory." Damian was Alastor's younger brother. Alastor scoffed silently from behind me, but I still picked up on it. Alastor and Damian both had the same green eyes and raven hair. Alastor was taller than his brother with a more muscular build and had tattoos imprinted on his skin. Damian was trying to work his way up in the ranks, much to his brother's disquietude. "Yes, Alpha." Damian beamed. No matter what I did, Alastor was not going to be thrilled. I was surprised he even let his brother come along.

Jongin said understandingly, moving forward: “Does it make sense to you?” He stopped as that man showed his fangs into a sharp, devilish smile. “I am Aleister Black, the exterminator of the Ilgara race, who murdered Prince Gerald and his wife, Lorraine.” His smile widened like a mentally disturbed person. And soon he will kill Damontry Elgara to revive the barren land of kingdoms with its hybrid blood. “How long are we going to stay here?” Baekhyun grumbled, wiping both hands over his face.

’ Mythril cried out in panic. “Hold him down!” I shouted to Harlow, but I was too late in telling him because I had been too shocked. “What the fuck are you doing?” Harlow roared in anger as he lunged at Alastair. But Alastair’s red energy was swallowed by black energy. Harlow was slammed as the wall of black energy attacked with a thick, dark cloud. “Come, Lord of Darkness. Let me be your obedience vessel,” Alastair hissed in a raspy, unfamiliar voice.

The Alpha of the Blackstone Pack? Alpha Ronan?

​ Damien look‍e⁠d like​ a dark god of r⁠uin in his long black over‍c‍oat‌, his⁠ shoulders completel‍y filli⁠ng t⁠he doorway, while Celeste walked at his s‍ide wit‌h th⁠e slow,‌ terrifyingly s⁠eren⁠e gra⁠ce of a monarch entering a conque‌red‌ territory. Yo​u are too late, Alistair, the old man sa⁠id, his fingers coming down hard on his term​in‍al inter‍f​ace to execute the master capital freeze command.⁠ T‌he New York c⁠ore i​s⁠ officially is⁠ol‌ated. Your priv‍ate a‍ccounts are dead.

It had been a spectacular failure. It wasn't that they hit a wall. A wall can be broken. This was different. His hackers described it as a labyrinth made of smoke and mirrors. Every data trail they followed would twist back on itself. Every backdoor they tried to open led into a digital hall of mirrors, reflecting their own intrusion signatures back at them until they were hopelessly lost. One of them reported that, just before he was ejected and his entire system wiped, a single image had flashed on his screen: a stylized black raven, which dropped a single, pixelated feather before the connection went dead. It was a digital calling card. A gesture of contempt. Frustrated with the digital f

He was staring at his computer screen, his jaw tight, his eyes—when he finally looked up—burning with a fury that made me want to step back. His eyes were the color of whiskey. But for just a fraction of a second, I saw something else beneath them. A flash of gold. My wolf went absolutely still. Then she screamed. Mate. No. No, no, no. The man—Alistair Blackwood, the CEO, the billionaire, the most powerful wolf in the city—was staring at me with the same expression of horrified recognition. His nostrils flared. His hands gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles went white.