Black Mirror Jerome Flynn Novels & Stories

He should’ve stopped, but neither of them moved. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, breathing hard, eyes still closed, the room erupted into thunderous applause. But neither of them heard it. All they heard was the sound of their own shattered walls, crashing softly to the ground. ............ Jeremiah stared at his reflection in the mirror, his jaw clenched, hands gripping the edge of the marble sink until his knuckles turned white. He couldn’t stand another second in that hall. Watching that bastard son of his, bend like a dog to Samuel Meyer’s daughter, the daughter of the very man he swore to destroy, it was like swallowing poison.

“I think it's about time you end this crap. It's deluding.” “What crap?” Jerome is frantic. Spiralling, his reaction is foreign. I've not seen him like this before. “Ignore him. Let's just talk…in private.” he reaches to take my hand but I cut him short. Taking a step back, I shake my head. “Not until you tell me what the hell this is about,” I glance at Hunter, he has this smug look, and an expression I can't quite discern. Jerome’s voice is hollow when he speaks again. “I told you he's a lunatic. He's only going to ruin you, that's what he does to women,”

I'm crying, helpless. His hand stretches out toward me. I shut my eyes, bracing for the worst. But nothing happens. I hear a strangled sound and open my eyes. Jeremy is spitting up blood, his throat cut open. A figure in a black raincoat stands behind him, blood dripping from the knife in their hand. Jeremy falls and stops moving. I scream into the silence.

I hear him hiss but I still refuse to open my eyes, he then hisses again but this time his tone is harder, “I said look at me…” I flinch and open my eyes, connecting my sapphire ones with his blue, grey and amber ones. I am surprised by what I see in them. All his emotions are back. They are not red and dead cold, I only just hear him as he whispers, “Return with me…” Our connection is broken when Finn clears his throat and says, “Jeremiah, do you think that is a good idea?”

Sirens wailed—faint, closing fast. “Time’s up!” Jeremy barked, voice raw, hauling Jeremiah’s arm over his shoulder. “Move your asses!” Flinco spat blood, wiping his mouth, glaring at Hammer sprawled in the wreckage. “We ain’t done, motherfucker.” Jeremy sneered, dragging Jeremiah. “We will be—just not tonight.” Flinco’s last men laid cover—suppressed fire, tight bursts—pinning the CIA as they bolted. Jeremy shoved Jeremiah into a blacked-out SUV—engine roaring, tires screaming as it peeled out. Flinco followed, limping, his crew piling in a second rig. Hammer staggered up, blood streaming, gun empty, watching tail lights vanish into the black.

“You have about fifteen seconds, Jerome, to convince me not to kill you.” “Please,” Jerome says, putting up his hands now, his pain disappearing in the wake of his blind terror. “I swear – it was years ago – she – she hired me, she told me to put myself in your view! To let you notice me! And then – um – when I got in your good graces, I was supposed to report back! I was a mole, or whatever!” “Jerome,” Daniel says, his voice breaking on his name, desperate and devastated. “How could you –“

I felt myself slipping toward the floor, my body going limp. I had one chance. My phone was still gripped in my hand. I couldn't see the buttons. I couldn't even feel the glass under my skin. I just moved my thumb where I thought the keyboard was. I hit random letters. I didn't care what they were. I just needed to send something. Anything that looked like a struggle. I felt the vibration of the phone as the message sent. Then the world tilted, turned black, and disappeared. Jeremiah’s POV

The captors moved aside as a new figure entered—another nightwalker, but older, carrying himself with the kind of confidence that came from centuries of existence. I recognized him immediately. Jerome. Elder nightwalker, leader of one of the largest nests in the region. And brother to the nightwalker Xenois currently held prisoner—the one who'd been involved in some plot against the pack that I'd never gotten full details about. "Well, well," Jerome said, studying me with cold amusement. "The infamous Blood Luna, chained and caged. I must admit, I didn't think we'd actually succeed in capturing you. Your reputation suggested you'd be far more difficult to subdue."

Maybe I would have been able to stop what was happening to her without feeling the need to bury myself away to escape the rush of emotions that were now fighting to resurface. I pushed those emotions down though, buried them, and focused on Jeremiah. And, I almost smiled despite the situation. Jeremiah looked worried for the woman he claimed to hate. I might not be the person to see the in between, everything had always benn black and white for me. But Jeremiah had made me see the grey. He was my grey and right now I could see his own grey as he hovered over Nina, conflicted between his hate and the worry that now she was evoking inside him.

she asked again. Jeremy didn’t answer. All he could see were the numbers, the words, the disgusting secrets Mira had tried to hide behind layers of security codes. It was horrifying. He felt bile rise to his throat. He wanted to throw up. “Is it that bad?” Sophie asked again. She was going crazy with the lack of answers she wasn’t getting from Jeremy. The way he was driving was also reckless. She prayed they got to the Blackwells’ estate in one piece. She didn’t like this. Jeremy never behaved like this, so whatever he must have found must truly be shocking if it made him act like this.