Black Thread Near Me Novels & Stories

Darkness surrounds me the farther I move away from Michael. I don't know what I'll say to Maisie when she picks, but I still need to call her. Her line rings and rings, yet no answer. I call again and again, waiting for her to respond, but I get no response. Meanwhile, as I'm waiting for Maisie to pick up the call, I see two figures dressed in black biker gear, moving stealthily through the woods, their figures blending in the shadows, you'd barely suspect anyone is there. I wanted to take it as nothing, but then I saw that particular purple hair I saw at Times Square sometime ago.

NATHANIEL Slowly, Betty turns to me, her eyes widening. “Is that them?” I hesitate for just a second, then quickly move toward the phone and unlock it. Unknown number. My stomach knots. “Welcome to New York, Mr. Blackwell. As you can see, we have your cousin. If you want to see him alive again, come to this location. Alone. I do not need to remind you what happens if you don’t.” A location pin follows beneath it.

~Amelia~ Caleb lifted a brow. “You planning to trust Blake with zero access?” he asked. Kaden’s expression turned mean in a second, and I could literally see the jealousy wake up. “Blake does not need nursery access,” I gave him a flat stare. “Nobody said he did,” I deadpanned. Caleb made this quiet cough that was probably a laugh, and then he flipped a page in the patrol notes. “There’s more,” “One of the outer guards found a black thread tied around a branch near the fence, and that is old rogue warning code. It means they are either marking entry lanes or telling the others the road is clear.”

Nothing notable is found. He usually can find something even within a pure black picture. Why can’t he find something in those pictures? Granted, the people are wearing masking and black stocking hats, but there is some skin showing. I find it hard to believe that there isn’t some sort of mark somewhere on the various thugs.

I refocus on the attack as I slow us down a little and open my senses. *Stay alert everyone.* I order in our link. *Yes, Alpha.* We quickly slink our way further and further into unclaimed territory, closer to Black Lake. The closer we get though, the more the fur on the back of my neck stands up in warning. I know I’m anticipating the fight ahead, but this feels like more than that. I don’t know how to say it but almost a foreboding, like the edge of the precipice just before the fall into hell.

It was time to do what I had come to do. A few more minutes of riding….I found it. The Blackthorn Territory. I rode in without fear, stopping at a bar which was at the corner of the road. The neon sign flickered green and red. I looked around. I could see thousands of bikes packed. “I should burn them…” I whispered to myself but I stopped myself, as I heard laughter spilling from the door with loud music. I could see girls, naked and rubbing over the men while they sprayed them with money.

“They’re sending a car for you in an hour. For the scans. Alex is just finishing calls.” “Of course he is,” I murmured. She hesitated like she wanted to say more. Then she left. The second the door clicked shut, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. One vibration. Then another. I reached for it, thumb skimming the screen. Unknown number. > Black House. Midnight. Come alone. A location ping followed: a dropped pin in the meatpacking district. A club I’d heard a hundred gossip references to and never seen. Black House.

Black’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down to see a message from one of his scouts stationed near the border of town: "Target spotted. Black SUV, heading east." He met Mike’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. This was it.

He leaned down and kissed me—a long, deep, and intoxicatingly dangerous kiss that felt like a goodbye and a promise all at once. "Fine," he rasped. "But you wear the heavy plates. And you stay with Vulture." We hit the road thirty minutes later. The city of Blackridge was a blur of gray and neon, a sprawling trap that didn't know the hunters were already inside its walls. We didn't take the bridge this time. We dove into the dark, entering the old industrial tunnels that smelled of damp earth and ancient secrets. As we rode through the dark, the roar of the engines echoing off the stone walls, I felt a strange, cold peace. The war for Blackridge was reaching its final hour. Silas Thorne was