Dr Thorn Percy Jackson Novels & Stories

I wanted to be all she needed, to be her strength, but what good am I when I can't even touch her? Thorne stood, holding a small, worn journal. He seemed to measure its weight like it held not just knowledge but truths that desired liberation. "This man was a follower of the Dark Ones," he declared, his voice a solemn testament. His words broke through my haze of anger and disbelief, drawing my eyes to the journal.

My heart rate doubled instantly, and I felt Artemis stir weakly in the back of my mind. The door swung open, and Benjamin Thorne stepped in, his imposing figure filling the doorway. Behind him, I caught glimpses of other men—Stavros, his face tight with anticipation; Bennett, looking uncomfortable but resolute; Cassius, smirking openly; and Alpha Michael Barker. Behind them, holding a medical bag, stood Dr Stone, a man I recognised from my time with Benjamin’s pack.

“The Hollowed, the real ones they’ve been waiting, hiding beneath the layers. The Prophetess wasn’t the end.” Kael knelt by him. “What are you talking about? We destroyed the Hollowed’s core.” Thorne grabbed his arm, nails digging in. “That was only one cult. The outer ring. The true believers those who speak the Dreamer’s name in sleep they never left. They’re using the Rift tears as sanctuaries. And one of them… one of them has found the Thorn.” Aria’s blood turned to ice. “The Thorn?” she whispered. Thorne’s gaze locked on hers, suddenly lucid. “The only thing that can pierce the Dreamer’s veil. The only weapon that can kill what isn’t meant to die.”

As if triggered, my throat burns in response to the silent threat. “Jackson.” The lethal calm in Thorne’s voice makes me freeze like prey who knows the predator is right over them. I know Thorne is dangerous, or I’ve heard that he is, but that tone is one I’ve never heard. Even when he was angry this morning, he didn’t sound this sharp. “Aurora is my assistant. You have no say over whether she is to work here or not. Do you understand?” I peek at Jackson, who his nodding quickly, trying to gather his shattered thoughts back together, “I-I just meant that she shouldn’t—”

Ivy I stood frozen as the names bled across the screen, each one more damning than the last. Lucien’s name—etched in red—flashed like a branding iron across my mind. Authorization Level RED. THORN01 – ACTIVE. THORN02 – DECEASED. THORN03 – UNKNOWN. Beneath it, a timestamp: nearly a decade ago. His signature. His access. His creation. The truth tasted like rust on my tongue. He hadn’t just been part of the story.

I asked, my voice small, yet tinged with cautious curiosity. There was a silence on the line, then Damian’s low, controlled voice dropped the final piece of the puzzle like a bomb. “Alexander Thorn.” I swallowed hard. My stomach twisted into a knot of disbelief, intrigue, and rising panic. Alexander Thorn. The name alone made my skin prickle. One of the biggest CEOs in the state. Untouchable. Wealthy beyond comprehension. Publicly scrutinized, privately secretive. And now… he was supposed to be my lifeline, my distraction, my fake boyfriend.

The storm outside Thorne Tower had upgraded from a drizzle to a rhythmic assault. Thunder vibrated through the floorboards, a low-frequency growl that seemed to mock the artificial stillness of the ninety-ninth floor. Silas didn’t wait for Lyra to agree or prepare. He had retreated into a state of hyper-focused mania, a byproduct of his "Master" persona desperately trying to overwrite the "Leo" glitches from the boardroom.

Jessica responded. The man and Miss Beth looked at each other after Jessica affirmed her name. Creepy! “I'm Liam Thorne, son of Philip Thorne and CEO of TRIX.” The man said. “Pleased to meet you sir.” Jessica said, wondering how he was the CEO. Up until that morning, it read on the Internet that the active CEO was Philip Thorne, his father. Even the agency knew that! For a family that didn't even have a lot to show on the media, how could the only thing they knew be inauthentic?

Damian Thorn is a 35 year old, his 6.2 feet tall handsome guy. He is a Greek god that makes girls drool, his the definition of an ideal guy yet behind this perfect image of wealth lies a psychotic maniac. His feared by most due to horrid tales about his shady business dealings, some say he has no soul and those who know him speak not of him due to fear of him dealing with them. His family knows his a serial killer, they've tried different kinds of help from different institutions to try and offer him help his mother always wonders what she did wrong during his upbringing for him to end up this way.

"Wasn't Ironsides supposed to be on vacation until Halloween week?" I know Quincy Jones didn't exactly have Thucydides Peabody in mind when he penned that theme, but the opening rift really did suit the bastard. Thucydides—or Thuc as he asked friends to call him—was the director of nursing here at Open Palms Retirement Home, a chubby one-eyed, and horned cyclops of the Colossa clans. His satyr-like bottom hoofed at the tiles, impatience writ all over his face. "I got a complaint from Mrs. Oxblood's daughter. You remember Rebekah don't you?"