Blackheart Comics Novels & Stories

My heart stopped. Maya’s body was barely hanging on, blood dripping from her wounds, and I felt my stomach churn with fear. But then, everything shifted in a flash, and before my eyes, Steven’s hands were buried in Maya’s chest. He pulled out her still-beating heart, the raw brutality of the act leaving me breathless. A cold, venomous voice echoed in my mind, sharp and foreboding. “Each life he takes draws him closer to his dark end. When The Demon Wolf arrives, Steven Blackwood shall meet his doom.”

He got up and walked past Ariel out the door, while Nancy and Matt followed. As Nancy left, she shot Ariel a complicated yet ironic look. The agent seemed flustered, "Please think about it, Ms. Walker! That's Mr. Larkin from Bluum Corp! He's rich and trying to please his mother-in-law, so money is nothing to him if he wants to buy the gallery! You'd be crazy to say no!" Ariel couldn't hear a word of it as she walked out numb. It felt like she'd been slapped hard several times until she could barely breathe.

"And then I'll let him live. Let him spend the rest of his miserable life in despair." A knock on the door pulled me from my memory. The door opened, and a messenger in a black cloak stepped inside. "Lady Nix, a top-tier commission has arrived." He placed a sealed scroll on my desk. I broke the seal and saw the familiar signature. Ryan Blackthorn. The request was simple: Find the Heart of the Moon. A myth. An artifact fabled to heal any wound of bloodline or soul. The client was willing to pay with the entire Blackthorn family fortune.

"You're not as bad as you make yourself out to be; doing bad things, bad deeds, doesn't mean your attitude is so bad." He leaned on the steering wheel with his arms crossed and kept looking at me. I wanted to touch his bicep and see if it was as hard as it looked, and for some reason, I found myself tracing with my fingers the lines that drew a small statue of liberty. "What are you basing that on?" his bicep tensed when I moved to a tattoo closer to the sleeve of his shirt: a deck of cards "You don't know anything about me."

] [It's an A-rank cursed item that targets congenital weaknesses! [These players are disgusting! They exploited her kindness!] [It's over. They're going to use her heart condition against her!] "Hand over your Tarot cards and those artifacts," Brad threatened. "Or this 'Heartbeat Hourglass' will make your heart explode." "We did our research on you," another player sneered. "Congenital heart disease, right? This item will put an infinite strain on your heart." "Why?" The word was a choked whisper. I stared at them, my heart shattering. "I thought... we were friends."

My voice betrayed me before I could stop it. Reynolds slowly turned, his eyes locking on me for a fraction of a second. “Hmm, it seems someone has been paying attention to history ,” he said. Then he straightened, his tone cold but approving. “Applaud her, everyone. Perhaps a higher post might be warranted for her commitment.” I forced a smile, my hands tightening against the desk edge. He faced the crew again. “So, where was I? Ah, yes. The heir to the Black Heart is Ethan Cross. He didn’t just take over his father’s empire… he surpassed it. He brought in the biker group, Addiction—Steel and Sin.

Cullen just nodded and then smirked at him, showing his black credit card. “Hey, I want to book Scarlet Heart, where is she?” Cullen asked while feeling so confident. Heart’s boss shook his head. “I am sorry but she won’t be available to be booked here. She won’t be found anywhere as well.” Heart’s boss answered. Cullen’s eyes widened and then glared at him. He hit the table by his palm and Heart’s boss was surprised and slowly looked at Cullen. “Wait, what?!” Cullen gasped and he was so pissed and frustrated.

They were marked absent from my list, and before the ceremony starts, I wanted to know why. We walked toward the gate, which was really high, with electric wiring on the fence to keep pests away. The "pests" were likely normal werewolves. The Blackheart Pack was held in high esteem because their elite were not only billionaires but were not troublemakers. They lived a life of freedom without responsibility, but never once hurt anyone. I brought out my phone, calling one of them. It rang and got switched off; there was no response on the other end. I tried three other numbers, and all of them were the same. Now I was scared that something was not adding up.

Cassian bowed his head, forehead nearly touching mine. “Then do it.” Damien roared from the archway. “No!” Too late. My blood sank through Cassian’s shirt. Into silver light. Into the Heart. Into him. The world turned white. For one endless second, I felt everything. Cassian’s chains. His screams under Black Hollow. His sister’s betrayal. Damien’s blade. The Heart forced into his chest. Twenty-one years of darkness. Twenty-one years of not dying. Twenty-one years of waiting without knowing whether anyone would ever come.

She fidgeted in her seat, her eyes darting anxiously to the entrance each time someone walked in, her heart leaping with false hope again and again. Until finally—A man in a tailored business suit entered. “I’m sorry for the delay,” he said, approaching the officers. “The boss is currently in a meeting. I was sent as his representative.” Belle looked up. Her heart sank. It wasn’t him. “This is the CEO’s black card,” the manager explained eagerly, showing it to the man. “We recognize it anywhere. Only a few people in the country own one. Yet today, it was used by… her.” His tone carried thinly veiled disdain.