Blackthorn Manor Novels & Stories

he said coldly. ​Dizer looked at him. "Where?" ​Adrian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he drew a slow, steady breath before speaking. "It belongs to the Hawthorne family." ​Shadows and Secrets ​At the Shank Mansion, Camille paced nervously around her bedroom until her phone suddenly vibrated. She answered immediately. "Well?" ​The man on the other end chuckled darkly. "You wanted Blackridge slowed down. I've already made the first move." ​Camille lowered her voice to a whisper. "What did you do?"

That realization frightened her more than any gun or sniper ever had. “How many people knew my father called me that?” she asked quietly. Ethan glanced at her. “Only people he trusted.” Victor, seated across from them, looked thoughtful. “Or someone who read his journals.” No one liked that possibility. ⸻ The convoy drove through towering iron gates. Ahead stood Blackwood Manor. The estate stretched across acres of perfectly maintained gardens, its stone walls glowing beneath carefully placed lights. Amelia stared through the window. “This is where you grew up?”

He shoots a super angry look at Zara, but he stays down. That is what happens when you mess with my mate. “Move out of my way!” a sharp voice snaps from the back of the room. The crowd of wolves parts quickly, and Callum Harrington Blackthorn comes rushing out. He is the Moonhall Steward, and he is a total nightmare to work for. He stops right in front of us, putting his hands on his hips and tapping his leather boot against the floor. “Why is there juice all over my beautiful stone floor? What a total disaster!”

I finally whispered, my voice sounding incredibly small in the quiet car. "To fix your mistake," Ronan replied smoothly, not bothering to turn his head. Twenty minutes later, the car slowed down, passing through a set of massive, towering iron gates flanked by armed security guards. We pulled up the winding driveway of Blackthorne House. The estate loomed out of the dark misty rain like a gothic fortress, constructed of heavy, dark stone and surrounded by centuries-old oak trees. The door was thrown open by a silent guard holding a large black umbrella.

Isolde looked up and immediately held her breath. A tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a dark suit descended the stairs. His shoulders were wide, his jaw was sharp, and his face was strikingly handsome, yet devoid of emotion. The man—Lucien Blackthorne, the primary heir—stopped exactly three steps in front of Isolde.

Blackthorn had never failed to remind me that I lived in a completely different world from everyone else. Elizabeth caught up with me outside the lecture hall, waving a cream-colouredcoloured envelope up in the air. "There you are!" "What now?" I asked. "It came." She replied, pushing the envelope into my hands with a grin. I frowned. "What is this?" "Open it." The university seal was pressed into dark blue wax. My name was written neatly across the front. My stomach fluttered. I carefully broke the seal and unfolded the invitation. Miss Elena Carter, You are cordially invited to attend Blackthorn University's Annual Founders' Charity Gala…

(Keyla POV) The rain started somewhere around the last mile of private road, and by the time the gate came into view — iron, tall, the kind that seemed designed to remind you whose territory this was — the windows were streaked and the late afternoon light had gone flat and grey. Blackthorn Manor appeared through it like a fact rather than a building. Stone, old, four storeys with the kind of proportions that communicated money so far back it had stopped needing to be discussed. I'd been here twice before. Two visits had been enough to leave a mark. Adrian had insisted would go well and which had not. I'd stood at that same gate both times, on a sunny day the

"They would've taken both of us." There was a long silence. Then Elena whispered, "We'll get him back." I wanted to believe her. I really did. But fear was swallowing every hopeful thought. A knock sounded at the door. I expected another nurse. Or perhaps the detectives again. Instead... The room suddenly became colder. Every breath caught in my lungs. A tall figure stood in the doorway wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Gray eyes that could freeze fire. Damien Blackthorne.

But she couldn’t tell. She did not have the strength to keep her eyes open. She slipped into a deep sleep without another thought. The bedroom door opened and clicked shut. * Early that morning, a thick fog settled over Blackwood Manor. A tall man dressed in black walked out of the main house. The warm porch light above him cast a soft glow, catching in his bare eyes and revealing a quiet, icy edge. He got into the car, and as the door closed, Gavin spoke from the driver’s seat. “Mr. Xander, we’ve got the surveillance footage.”

Ama gently pushed open the black double doors that led to the room, her breath catching in her throat at the stunning sight before her. The decor held a captivating dark aura that felt both intimidating and intriguing. As she surveyed the space, her mind turned to the Blackwood family. Grayson Blackwood was the only one who came to mind as the possible creator of such an imposing environment. Realization washed over her; of course, this was his room. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner.