Dark Dealings In The Blackpits Novels & Stories

With my eyes still closed, I suddenly heard some faint footsteps replacing the heavy silence of the room. With every second, the footsteps grew louder and louder. Someone was here. My heart started pounding in a flash, who could be here? I gulped the saliva that collected in my mouth and slowly opened my eyes. As I opened my eyes, I saw a man covered in a black mask, wearing a black jacket, a pair of black pants and black boots. The light from the light bulb fell on him, illuminating him and he had a gun pointed to my face with his finger close to the trigger.

The voice from the darkness was a hook in my soul, reeling us forward into the chill. We stepped through the false wall, our single flashlight beam cutting a pathetic swath through the profound black. It fell upon bones. Not neatly stacked, but piled, heaped, a jumbled sea of femurs, skulls, and rib cages that filled a cavernous space from the slimy floor to the shadowed vault of the ceiling decades above. The Ossuary. The collective remains of centuries of Blackwood pack, their final energy a silent, heavy blanket that smothered the air and muted the magic in my blood to a faint, dying whisper.

“Ruby’s gone. I heard she’s making moves to transfer schools, move to a new city, and barely answers my calls. Says she needs space from… everything.” He stared into his drink. “My business is sinking,” he continued, voice cracking for the first time. “Debts piling up. Partners pulling out. And all I’ve got left are regrets. Drinking too much. Hitting too hard when I shouldn’t. Pushing away the only person who ever looked at me like I wasn’t a monster.” Black said nothing. Just signaled for another round. Two broken men, drowning in the ruins of the lives they’d built. ♠️ MARLENE ♠️

His knees buckle and drop to the ground. The media and police call me silenzio, while the others just call Silenzio. I'm a serial killer and I work for the country's most notorious and dangerous dark Italian organization known as The obsidian Syndicate. I work in the organization merely to quench my blood thirst after the unfortunate incident that occurred in my life which has scarred me and turned me brutal, I was given several therapy sessions but none ever worked to bring me back to the man I used to be before the incident.

Angela I’m trying not to let Natasha’s words get to me but then, we are only humans. No matter how hard we try, our minds will always take us back to previous events of the past, and mine is leading me to my conversation with Natasha. Blinking rapidly, I tried to focus on the paperwork before me but then that too was futile. The door opened, the sound distracting me for a bit. Xavier strolled in like he owns the building. His love for black color makes me want to jump on him and kiss him senselessly. His black suit, black shirt, and black jacket make him look cool with his jet-black hair.

With just a call, the group of black-clad men lurking around Lane Manor appeared. They were all death dealers hired from the black market who would do anything for money. And their leader was Earthrank elite number thirty-two—Dwight Houston of the Crestone Fists.

He spread the nails in five different directions. The nails whipped out into the different directions forming a grand circle. As it happened, the ground beneath them began to crack open. “W-what is happening?” Theo panickingly stated. A darkness that was filled with screams and pain of the souls killed over a nine hundred year span started rapidly spreading, swallowing everything in its path. When the darkness touched one of the wolves, he collapsed, dead in an instant. Finn glared at the ground as it split open further, realizing that Ryker was creating a black hole. One by one, everyone within the darkening radius began to die, their bodies consumed by the darkness.

"Look how pitiful she is..." "She must have been framed..." "It's all that Evelyn's fault..." Austen watched her performance, his face an unreadable mask of stone. Then he held up the first piece of evidence. "The transaction records of the black market dealer, Derrick Bloodclaw," his voice cut through the hall, cold as a blade. "A list of all the forbidden substances the accused has purchased from the black market over the past twelve years." He began to read from the list: "Soul-Shatter Powder, used to destabilize a wolf's soul."

“After what happened with the Gordons, every door is closing in our fucking faces. The Blackwood Group is falling apart right in front of us. Every day, we lose more contracts. More investors pull out. We’re bleeding money faster than we can replace it. I’ve been trying to hold everything together, but I can’t do miracles. To me, it seems obvious that if we don’t do something drastic—and soon—, we’ll be bankrupt by the end of the year. So no, this isn’t what I want. But it might be the only choice we have left.” She’s right. But I still can’t believe she’s actually considering this. The Dark Knights isn’t just a formal event. It’s a marketplace where powerful people get access to technology,

Damien’s expression darkened with both lust and concern. “Then tomorrow night, they’re taking you to the Black Vault,” he said. “The deepest level. Where the real Masters play.” I smiled softly against his chest. “I can’t wait.” It was now evident that the blackmail no longer controlled me, the pleasure did, and I was willingly walking straight into the darkest parts of the Midnight Club, craving every moment of my own destruction.