Black Irons Glory Novels & Stories

The furnishings in the room were so simple they bordered on shabby, forming a stark contrast to Rebecca's room, which was filled with luxury items. Everything was tidy, yet it also felt cold and lifeless. As he stood in the room, for the first time, Clyde felt an indescribable sensation rise in his chest. Mr. Banks' men moved swiftly and professionally, combing through every single corner. Soon, someone found a repair log on the desk. Mr. Banks took it, and as he flipped through a few pages, his expression turned grave. Right after, another subordinate discovered a locked iron box deep inside the nightstand. The box was forcibly pried open, revealing a thick stack of medical records and a di

My thoughts were a chaotic blur of dark legal courtrooms, public humiliation, and the absolute destruction of everything I had fought to build. The Detroit Iron were a massive, brutally physical team. They didn't care about beautiful sports synchronization; they used their heavy weight to crush their opponents into the boards. They smelled the weakness on our line, and they were hunting us like wolves. "Stay focused, Lucian," a deep, gravelly voice growled right behind my ear.

He returned to the cliff where he had always trained and performed the Iron Fist over and over. Every move sent him crashing to the ground, yet he struggled back to his feet each time, refusing to stop until every bone in his body was broken. It was as though he could no longer feel pain. "Clifford… I'm giving your talent back. I'm done fighting!" Tears streamed down Dad's face as he threw himself off the cliff. Like an eagle with broken wings, he plunged into the abyss. The night before the bankruptcy was finalized, Mom returned to the tiny storage room where I had once lived.

“Why are you so stubborn? I won’t divorce you. You’re only thirty‑two. Don’t you care about yourself at all?” Her sudden change in attitude made me pause. I answered in a calm voice. “Why are you crying? You hated me so much that you should be happy when I die.” Jaime wiped her tears and spoke softly, almost as if she were coaxing a child. “You’re still young, so you can still be treated. Come back with me. I thought about everything these past few days. The past grudges weren’t ours to handle. I was stubborn. I was wrong. Let’s focus on getting you better and pretend the past is the past, okay?”

The cool breeze drifted across the water, clearing away the heaviness in my chest. Ruby and I set up the tent while Mr. Hayes crouched nearby, starting the grill. Mrs. Hayes laid out marinated chicken wings and lamb skewers one by one. Smiling, she handed me an ice-cold can of Coke. "Here, Stella. Have something cold first." I took the soda, my fingers brushing against the chilled aluminum can. For some reason, my chest suddenly felt unbearably warm. This was what family was supposed to feel like. When Ruby asked me to take pictures for her, I finally remembered my phone was still off.

“There was no sugma in the hair sectio—” Darryl opens his door to the sight of his Godfather slumped down on the floor, unmoving. Katcha is leaning on a wall with a wet towel draped over her - uniform all ruined by a shade of red splashed unto her in irregular spaces. Goldie stood above them all, picking up the pieces of broken wood that were once a coffee table. The living room furniture is toppled except for the couch. A piece of cloth drenched in red liquid is discarded in one corner. The smell of iron fills the air, making the young man feel nostalgic despite knowing that this is always a bad sign unless the smell came from an enemy.

I didn't even want to wait for my dad. I leaned on the wall as I slowly got back up, then I went to the manager's office right beside the lobby. The manager noticed my disheveled look, and he frowned. "Who the hell are you, woman? This isn't a place for asylum inmates," he said impatiently. I didn't want to argue, so I tossed a black-gold card over to him. There were only two of its kind in Imperia. He would recognize it. The moment he saw my name on the card, his legs buckled, and he nearly fell from his seat. "M-Ms. Oliviero? But…"

However, my grandfather slapped them each right then, barking, "Shut up! A couple of nobodies like you think you get to yap in front of me and James?!" Seeing that everything was falling apart, Harold braced himself, smiling as he came close, "Hey, Gramps. You could have told me you're coming, and I would have received you at the door…" Grandpa's bodyguard sent him flying with a kick even before he got close, while Grandpa snorted. "Some gigolo who lives off women, calling me gramps? You're willing to sink as low as you can, I see." In the end, my grandfather was the one who had led Skymex Group to its current glory in his youth, propelling himself as the richest man of Adonia.

Meanwhile, Adrian came to my side, and looking at me with more questions, he picked me in his arms. «she needs a doctor, now,» he said and escorted me to the open room, Atlas’s room. I held on to him, it felt weird, he was angry, warm, and afraid, and fear radiate out of him. He placed me on the bed and I felt a bolt of pain in my left arm where the wound was healing, making me scream my heart out; I looked at my hand, seeing black veins covering the wound. «What is that?» asked Hunter. The pain was unbearable, but I knew what was this, black blood, I have been marked.

In a heartbeat, all the color drained from her face. I looked up and sized her up. In just a month, the woman who used to be so high and mighty—polished down to her last strand of hair—now looked haggard with bloodshot eyes. Her haute couture suit hung loosely on her frame, making her look like a child who had stolen an adult's clothes. Her pride and commanding presence had vanished without a trace. All that remained was desperation. Her lips trembled, and it took her a while to find her voice. "Kieran…"