Blackwood Churches の小説・ストーリー

Although part of her might have been happy to corner Lucian again, if yesterday's incident really leaked to the public, it would affect the company's stock price. Blackwood Corporation was not just a company, but a business empire that spanned across multiple fields—automotive, technology, finance, and even property. Behind its great name stood four main pillars: Blackwood Motors with its electric cars and self-driving systems, Blackwood Tech, which dominated AI and cyber security, Blackwood Finance in the world of finance, and Blackwood Real Estate, which dominated property.

' 'I suppose it's the safest thing to do,’ I say, agreeing with him. As we park the car and step out, we suddenly feel a sense of doom. There’s a dark and eerie feel to the Blackwood territory. Dead trees surround the place, and a storm is brewing beyond it, adding to the eerie darkness. The only sound we can hear is the wind gushing through the trees. The dead branches and trees dance like they are all in a ritual. The dry leaves crumple under our feet as we approach the front door. The packhouse is a black Gothic house with huge windows all around. I can see a white curtain moving. Pack members peek through the window at me. Dried vines cover the house. Nathan and I glance at each other, t

Or is this just another cage? ​He didn't answer. He just looked back out the window as we turned onto a private road that wound upward into the mist shrouded hills. ​Blackwood was nothing like the glass and steel penthouse. It was a sprawling, Gothic revival estate made of dark stone and ivy that looked like it had been clawed into the side of the mountain. It looked ancient, imposing, and deeply lonely. As the gates creaked shut behind us, I felt a strange shiver crawl down my spine. This wasn't a home, it was a monument to a legacy that had claimed too many lives already.

“Then we do what we must.” Maxwell glanced at me. “You ready for this?” I wasn’t sure anyone could be ready for what we were about to do. But there was no time for hesitation. I squared my shoulders. “Let’s go.” --- The Blackwood estate loomed ahead, its towering gates shut tight. The once-grand mansion had fallen into disrepair after the war, its windows dark, its gardens overgrown. But beneath it lay the vault—one of the most heavily guarded places in the supernatural world.

“That’s him.” Nathan Blackwood. I recognized that face instantly. CEO of Blackwood Industries, headquartered in New York. The man was always in the news. His face was plastered all over the business magazines I loved to read. He was tall, like his cousin, Julian—handsome, with the kind of presence that commanded attention, even in a photograph. And his fiancée—Kimberly—she looked exactly like me. I swiped back to her picture with trembling fingers, my stomach twisting in confusion and disbelief.

I’ll be seeing them this Sunday at our annual weekly dinner. “And your father?” I frown. “My father left a long time ago,” I say with such finality I give him no room to ask more questions about the sperm donor. “What do you do when you’re not flipping houses or singing?” “Sometimes I volunteer with a couple of charities but otherwise, I work at The Bar” I don’t know why I don’t tell him I own it. “My family run a foundation, which charities have won your heart, Miss Blackwood,” he asks, his curious hazel eyes intent on mine.

The drive down to the venue took about an hour, and that gave me more than enough time to familiarize myself with the issues that needed sorting out. Soon we arrived at the Blackwood estate. It wasn’t owned by any syndicate. Rather, it belonged to a centuries-old arbitration council trusted by every major crime family. The estate sat on the highest hill overlooking the city, hidden behind wrought-iron gates and centuries-old oak trees. To anyone passing by, it looked like nothing more than an old mansion preserved for the wealthy. But only a few knew it had hosted peace talks, fragile alliances, and declarations of war long before most of the city’s skyscrapers were ever built.

"Just what we need, an audience for this disaster." The main house appeared around the final bend, a sprawling timber and stone structure that dominated the central clearing. Three stories of rustic elegance with wraparound porches and large windows, it had been home to generations of Blackwood Alphas. Standing on the front steps, waiting with the unmistakable authority of his position, was Marcus Blackwood.

BLACKWOOD PENTHOUSE ~ NEW YORK CITY Damien's face turned white. He looked at his dad, then at his step mum. His voice shook. "Dad… I honestly have no idea." Alexander let out a long, heavy sigh. He rubbed his forehead. "Then listen to me very carefully." His voice was quiet but sharp. "The Blackwood family has been around for generations. We've survived wars, money problems, and scandals. But never—and I mean never—has a dead body shown up at our front gate inside a gift box."

Dust drifted through the manor like falling ash. Somewhere upstairs, wood splintered loudly as another section of Blackwood House gave way beneath the strain of the failing seals. Rain poured through the damaged roof now, cold water running down ancient hallways lined with flickering silver wards. The house was dying. Eleanor could feel it. Blackwood Manor had never simply been a home. It was part prison. Part sanctuary. Part living thing. And it was exhausted. Alaric remained on one knee, one hand braced against the cracked floorboards while silver light pulsed violently beneath his skin. Each pulse answered the chains buried deep below the mountain.