Black Thread Near Me Novels & Stories

Chapter 108 The Black Market Elsewhere in the market, Trent and Hunter, the latter still with one eye bandaged from his recent injury, stealthily navigate a dark and secluded alley. The row of stalls and shops surrounding them appear closed or abandoned, concealing the pathway leading to their destination. Trent's senses are heightened, and he can't help but feel the weight of anticipation in the air. His parents' unscrupulous teachings have honed his ability to locate the secretive black markets hidden in the most obscure corners of any realm.

I walked past the monochrome-colored tiles, dropping the newspaper collection and the weird-looking stone on the dining table. With a relaxed mind, I headed back to my room, rolling under the sheets for a nice sleep. The sounds of wails and screams crust into my ears, my head banging with the interruption. What had happened to have caused such a peaceful neighborhood to be in shambles? Well, Father Timothy might be having some deliverance program. He is a man of great

I stood up. He looked toward the window, breathing hard. “I felt it.” “What?” I asked. “A bloodline resonance,” he answered. “It was faint, but it reacted to Amelia’s sample.” The healer beside us became alert. “From where?” Cole closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them quickly. “Blackridge Territory.” The name made me freeze. Blackridge Territory was dangerous, and now Amelia’s donor clue had pointed there. I did not know why, but I suddenly felt uneasy. Cole grabbed his coat. “I’m going there.”

The thunder of motorcycles cut through the night like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. Rain pelted against Raven Steele's leather jacket as she stood beneath the flickering neon sign of the Broken Spoke, a dive bar on the outskirts of Blackridge where respectable folks never ventured after dark. Her dark hair clung to her face, mascara threatening to run in rivulets down her cheeks, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore—not since they'd taken everything from her.

“What?” He glanced around, then leaned closer. “Tracks leading toward the old Luna shrine at Black Hollow. Two sentries went to check a strange light last night. They haven’t reported back.” Black Hollow. The abandoned shrine where we buried my Luna. No one went there anymore. “And the tracks?” “Barefoot, small, leading in, but none coming out.” My stomach tightened. Small barefoot tracks in the snow. I turned toward the eastern ridge. The sky was still grey, and the snow was starting to fall in thin flakes.

The bloodied tiger looked into me with sharp eyes. A tiger with yellow fur. My eyes widened when I realized that it was like the tiger I saw during the shading. I remembered the tiger which appeared as black bands surrounded me in the dream, and now, I found myself in the same situation. The black clump around me made me feel weak, I needed to withdraw my ability.

Music that pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat. People dressed like they owned the world. And maybe they did. They were having fun, if not too much fun. “Welcome,” Avery said beside me, “to the real Blackthorn.” I barely heard her. I was too busy taking everything in. The luxury. The danger. The way everyone moved like they belonged here. Like this was their world. And I... I wasn’t supposed to be part of it. And yet… I was. We moved deeper into the crowd.

The streets were messy, street lamps smashed, while some flickered eerily. The alleyways were almost pitch black, even though the sun was still out. A group of men were smoking cigarettes along a wall, and their gaze followed the car as we drove past. "Anywhere in particular in Hamilton?" my driver asked, his voice hoarse. "Black Bar. I have a meeting with someone there." My driver shot me an acidic look. His entire visage was screaming that I was crazy. Maybe I was, but I had to do this. The car soon stopped at Black Bar. The lights were a dull neon red, which flickered, lighting up the faces of the men who stood outside the building.

“Thomas Scott maintained blood-safe houses. Places transferred between shell companies so no generation would ever be exposed.” “How many?” “Five that I know of. There may be more.” Liv opened the first folder. “A hunting lodge in the mountains, a closed psychiatric hospital, two port warehouses, and an estate called Blackwater.” Mother went still. “Black water.” “What?” I asked. “Talus opened a crack with water beneath it. I saw it for one second.” Amelie approached the maps, still leaning against Bless. “I sensed moisture as well, but it was not living water. It was a dead ley line.”

Lyon asked, his deep tone easy, but there was something beneath it, something that watched more than it spoke. “Just their truck,” I said, meeting his gaze now. “It’s off the road near Hangman’s Bend. They weren’t in it.” Something in him stilled, subtle enough that most people wouldn’t catch it, but I did. “Then you’re starting to see what happens when people spend too much time around Blackhand,” he said, pushing to his feet. “They’ll be lucky if they turn up breathing.” I didn’t like how certain he sounded, or how easily he said it, like this was nothing new to him.