Novel & Cerita Blackwood Treasure Maps 3

It had been damaged in the scuffle; the heavy leather back cover had been sliced by a jagged nail on the floorboards. As she touched the tear, she felt something hard tucked inside the lining. "Wait," she whispered. She peeled back the leather. Tucked into a hidden pocket in the spine of the book was a small, transparent piece of film—a microfiche—and a folded, hand-drawn map. Lucas knelt beside her, his anger replaced by an intense curiosity. He took the map. It wasn't a map of a city or a building. It was a schematic of a diamond—the Eternal Willow. But there were notations on the sides in her mother's elegant handwriting.

“Walk with me.” We walked into the woods. No guards. No backup. Just two wolves who’d killed enough people to know when to stop talking and start listening. When we were deep enough that neither pack could see us, he stopped and pulled out a map. Not Blackridge’s map. Mine. Redwood’s border map, marked with red X’s in my own handwriting. “You’ve been busy,” he said. I glanced at it. “Vex’s old routes. Rogue drop points. I’ve been closing them.”

She shifted slightly, but did not wake. Good. She needed her rest. She needed to be strong. Because one day, she would stand where I stood now, carrying on the legacy that I was about to carve into the world. I traced a finger over one of the maps, my eyes narrowing as they landed on the Blackwood estate. I had never been there, not physically. But I had studied it, every inch, every vulnerable point, every weakness they thought they had hidden. Julian Blackwood was powerful, but he was not invincible.

They’d both struggled in school with this. “It just might. But it’s also telling us we need more than just the book. Look here. On the book cover. These symbols are from the desk. I’ve got the order they are in on my phone now. I suspect our order was incorrect and if we follow this order, we’ll find the compartment.” Becky backed away from the portrait, examining the video she’d just taken. “Now what about the map?” She clapped her hands together. “Guys! Guys, come here! It worked here too! They hide the pertinent information with black light. Look! It’s all here and a lot more.” Again, she snapped photos and videos. “Dang. I need to back this up manually or it won’t save it. My phone’s mem

I pulled several rolled-up parchment maps from my leather satchel and tossed them onto the long conference table. “Here are all the land surveys for the Blackwood territory.” I paused, then unhooked a sigil made from a wolf’s fang from my belt and placed it on top of the maps. “And this is the War Fang Sigil. It commands the pack’s warriors.” Cora’s eyes lit up. She eagerly reached out and snatched the sigil and maps, pulling them to her chest. The sigil still carried my scent, and she recoiled for a second as if burned.

I bow my head, “I don’t have a week in me Mum, I don’t even have a day left. I can’t do this anymore. It’s for the best if I.” Mum cuts me off before I can finish my sentence, “Don’t you dare say you should leave this world because it’s not for the best, Lillian Blackwood.” She huffs, “Let me make a few phone calls; Quinn will take you home so you can grab whatever you need or want, and then we leave tonight. I’ll have Cherry meet with the realtor and sell this place.” “We will? where will we go?” I ask with hope in my voice She smiles, “Wherever you want. How about we go for a little holiday first in the tropics, get some sun and then we’ll figure out where we will land after we clear our h

"He's demanding audience, Alpha. Says he has a proposition that might prevent... unpleasantness." Unpleasantness. Such a delicate word for the kind of territorial war that could paint these mountains red with supernatural blood. I found Blackwood waiting in the courtyard like he owned it, flanked by three wolves who moved with the particular swagger of creatures who'd never learned proper respect for established territory. He looked older than I remembered—gray threading through dark hair, lines around his eyes that spoke of years spent in exile—but his amber gaze held the same calculating intelligence that had made him dangerous three decades ago.

Shifters healed fast, but the steel—the one material that could nullify his strength—kept the wound raw and stinging. In the corner, Kan Nelblack lay like a discarded doll. The enforcer was pale, his breathing a shallow, rattling whistle. They’d taken him down with a surgical strike to the throat using a splinter of wormwood. It was a rare, toxic wood from the old Sopttyi District, almost mythical in its lethality to those with Kan's particular bloodline. Legend said the toxins weren't from the tree itself, but the parasites living within the grain. Wormwood manacles, carved with jagged precision, circled Kan’s wrists and neck. The wood hissed against his skin, smelling like singed meat.

Letting the weight of the place settle around me. Because something told me— What I was about to find… Would change things. --- I didn’t know where to start. So I followed instinct. Moving slowly through the shelves. My fingers trailing lightly over the spines of old books. Names. Dates. Records. Histories. Until— Something caught my attention. A ledger. Worn. Faded. But marked with a symbol I recognized. The Blackwood seal. I pulled it out carefully. Dust rising slightly as I opened it.