Novel & Cerita Blackwood Manor

I peek behind Pyotr's shoulder and see the rest of the people who were taken following behind us. I shift my head, now looking at the manor. The manor has a way of belonging to the land it graced. Its walls are varying shades of grays and browns hidden behind tall withering black trees. The moonlight cast upon it makes it look as if it were glowing. I would be in awe of such a grand manor, but this place is not a house from a fairytale, but rather a nightmare. The black trees surrounding the manor look almost alive, and feel if I look away for even a moment they will move. My heart hammers in my ears and I unconsciously grab onto Pyotr's clothes. He looks down at me, releasing an annoyed sig

My pregnant wife, alone, in a city crawling with enemies, under my name and face plastered across headlines as a wanted murderer. And she left the house without backup. I opened my mouth to issue another command but— “Boss, we’re here,” Thaddeus murmured, slowing the car. We’d reached where it all started— Not just a grave. Not just a name carved in stone. But the very root of every Blackwood sin. The estate. The first Blackwood’s house. The true Blackwood estate. Thaddeus slowed the SUV to a stop just in front of the towering iron gates, rusted but still standing, like sentinels too proud to fall.

I looked down the hallway and through the other side, and there was actually no one in sight. My heart hammered as I approached the large double office doors with D. BLACKWOOD engraved on the metal plate. I forced my trembling hand to knock. No answer. Great. I knocked again. Still nothing. Screw it. I pushed the door open— —and froze in place. Damian Blackwood sat behind his massive black desk. Sharp suit. Cuffed sleeves. Jaw tight enough to crack a diamond. He didn’t look up at me. Not even a glance. I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by his deep voice.

“Let me do most of the talking, alright? You don’t have to act too much.” “Act too much?” I scoff. “This is already too much.” He laughs lightly but doesn’t respond. When we pull up in front of the Blackwood Mansion, my jaw nearly drops. It’s huge... tall gates, wide driveway and lights glowing from every window. “Wow,” I whisper. “Welcome to my world,” he says simply. A butler opens the door for us and as we step inside I spot several people already seated at the dining table... his parents and few relatives all dressed elegantly.

One shot from that weapon and I get blown to bits. "Today is your day of reckoning, Blackstone. I have fucking endured you and your attacks on my territory for the past ten years." His voice darkens, becomes harder. "Not anymore. He flicks the safety off the gun. "Say your last prayer." His lips curve into a cold smile. "Better still, don't. You won't need it because you're going straight to hell…" Sudden commotion from outside the halls drown whatever Ramsey was about to say. Good. The Calvary is here. Took them long enough.

“Get your damn shit together. This back and forth can not continue, or someone is going to get hurt—and it might be Lillian.” And that brought us back to our senses instantly. Andre exhaled defeatedly and stepped back. “He is right.” I forced my claws to retract. “I will deal with Sharon.” Lucas snorted and shook his head. “It’s about time, if you ask me.” Sharon’s Mansion. The Blackwood estate loomed before me, with its shadows casting in all directions, it’s eerie spikes cutting into the twilight sky. The guards at the gate stiffened at my approach but didn’t dare stop their Alpha.

Doors creaked open and shut quickly, footsteps hurried and conversations died the moment a guard passed by. Blackwood Mansion had always been oppressive, but today it was something worse. It was hunting. Guards moved in pairs now, their shoes striking the ground in harsh rhythm. They stopped servants mid-task, seized wrists, demanded names, times and faces. “Where were you last night?” “Who did you see near the west wing?” “Did anyone enter the lower halls after midnight?” “Speak.” A maid stumbled backward when a guard grabbed her arm too roughly, fear flashing across her face.

Brambles had spread everywhere, festooned over the yawning archways, branches reaching out inquisitively as if trying to push in through the thick walls. The house was woeful and an eyesore, being consumed from within as well as without, but still, it bore the remote marks of grand antiquity in its giant frame and foundations, deep inside its moldering bones somewhere. It was an echo from another time, and for that reason alone the township of Blackwater Valley would never bulldoze it down. It waited for the Reverend, the Orchestrator—deserted and mute and harboring its secrets there, leering out at him with a kind of primitive, terrible purpose.

TWO WEEKS AGO "So it's more of an urban legend?" "Not really, no. There really was a mansion just past the forest here. It's built atop a hill but I'm not sure if it's still there." "What's the story behind it?" The old man stopped to take a swig of his whiskey and took a drag from his cigar. "It's a story no one in town likes to talk about for... well, reasons." he began as he eyed the young lady before him. "It happened long ago, way too long ago that I wasn't even alive, but the story is something that everyone had passed down."

Elena inhaled deeply. Outside, a security officer in black uniform gestured for her to follow. The halls of Blackwood Tower were sleek, intimidating, and silent. Every step echoed against the polished floors, amplifying the growing tension in her chest She barely had time to process when the officer stopped at a door, knocked twice, and— Boom. The door swung open. And Adrian Blackwood stormed out. Elena’s entire body locked up. His strides were sharp, commanding, his presence overpowering. His P.A. struggled to keep up, rattling off notes from a tablet.