Donovan Black Novels & Stories

My voice broke as his eyes finally shifted to me. Without a word, he grabbed my arm, gentler than he had been with them, but still firm enough that I knew resistance wasn’t an option, and dragged me through the stunned crowd. The night air hit me like a slap as we pushed through the bar’s doors. A sleek black car idled at the curb, its headlights on like the owner had dashed out of it. And the owner was none other than… “Get in,” Roman ordered, his deep voice leaving no room for argument.

"And the Blackthorne bloodline has always been her chosen instrument of justice." Diamond stirred within me, her satisfaction radiating through every fibre of my being. —They understand now. They see what we truly are.— Lord Donovan was on his knees, his body shaking as he stared at his empty hands. Without his wolf, he was nothing more than a broken old man, stripped of the power he had used to terrorise others for decades. "Please," he whispered, reaching toward me with trembling fingers. "Give it back. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

“Pietro covered up child abuse allegations years ago—diocesan hush money, paid through Vitale shell companies. Viktor discovered the records, used them to flip Pietro. The community center became the perfect front: donations in, Bratva cash out, clean on paper. Alessio found the discrepancies, threatened exposure unless Pietro fed him information about Dante’s movements. Teresa discovered the embezzlement trail and started skimming to cover the losses—keeping it in-house instead of letting the feds catch wind.” Pietro’s shoulders shook. “I had no choice. They would have destroyed the church. Destroyed me.” “You destroyed yourself,” Dante said coldly. Chen rubbed her temple. “And the judge? M

He pleaded incoherently, apologizing over and over to the cold, dead phone. In that moment, Dante Moretti snapped. He was no longer the elegant Don. He was a devil who had lost his soul, wanting nothing more than to drag the whole world down into the grave with him.

To the right, a picture of Harou himself; In the middle, a picture of Blake with darker eyes in a deep green and hazel; and to the right, a picture of Damian, or as Harou likes to call him, Keiran. Blake nods in disbelief. "This, can't be real. This is . . . . What is this?"

“She went to the tea shop. Drove herself. I followed, like you asked. Kept my distance. She was fine. She bought tea, sat for a while, then left. I stayed behind her, two cars back. Then—” He stopped. “Then what?” I demanded. “Then a black sedan came out of nowhere. Fast. Too fast. It hit her side. Spun her car. She crashed into the barrier.” My chest tightened. “Did you see the driver?” He shook his head. “Tinted windows. No plates. They didn’t stop.” I stared at him. Long. Hard. “Not an accident,” I said. He nodded quickly. “No, Don. Not an accident.”

A young man got in a bowed before making his statement. "I'm pleased to inform you that yesterday's operation went well. Two men of Stone were murdered and the bag is in our possession." "That's great news. What about the Black moon?" He asked with interest. "He was nowhere to be found and that was to our advantage," he said the last part lowly. "I see, seems Black moon's becoming busy lately. What can he do? He's human too." Matteo added very excitedly. The man dropped a glass of wine before him and scurried out of the room, happy for being alive.

“I’ll do it.” After Sky’s voice fell, a person stepped out from the crowd. It was a middle-aged man who looked to be in his 40s. He wore a black suit and did not look like a martial artist. Instead, he had the appearance of a successful businessman. It was none other than Donovan. Donovan inherited Winston’s True Energy and had become an eighth-ranked grandmaster. He had been tormented since his one-sided defeat at the hands of Tobias. After Tobias died, he never found the chance to prove his strength or bring glory to the Blithes.

He called gently and I looked at him as saliva gathered in my mouth while I tried to act natural. "Meet my brother, Viktor Sokolov." He introduced and it felt like a bucket of ice had been thrown onto me. 'This man was Viktor Sokolov?' I gasped as it now hit me why he looked so familiar. I had seen this man before on this news several times because he was a military soldier captain and it was nothing good. Mostly about him bombing other armies, sneaking an attack or planning a coup. A reporter had once said that the only difference between this man and a Black mamba was that this man could walk so what Don Luciano doing besides him?

Davien’s P.O.V Donovan Griffins and I had been friends for as long as I could remember. I cannot exactly recall how we got about to befriending each other, but let’s just say that man had been the persistent one since day one. While I’m more of a recluse and prefer my own company most of the time, Donovan is more outgoing and quite the womanizer. With his playful ways, I still wonder how he’d even managed to pull through law school and even rise to prominence as one of the most highly decorated divorce lawyers in the country. Who knew that one day his chosen area of expertise would actually come in handy?