Oblivion Blackwood Company Novels & Stories

of the North. "The 'Final Revision' is a 'Liquidation of the Prototype', Silas Blackwood," said the Lead Publisher, the man who had crushed Kaelen’s toy. He stood at the head of the circle, his voice sounding like a thousand pages turning at once. "You have 'Infected' our world with your 'Remorse'. You have 'De-valued' the human experience with your 'Magic'. We are here to 'Write Off' the Thorne-Blackwood experiment and 'Reclaim' the raw materials."

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.

he said. "Liar... You’re his accomplice," I mocked with a grimace of annoyance. "You’re carrying me off like a slave. Do you think I don’t notice? Blackwood Industries isn’t just a company, is it? That power, the way everyone trembles when that name is mentioned... it’s not just because of my father’s debt, right?" Caleb gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. For a moment, I thought he would slam on the brakes, but he continued.

Music that pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat. People dressed like they owned the world. And maybe they did. They were having fun, if not too much fun. “Welcome,” Avery said beside me, “to the real Blackthorn.” I barely heard her. I was too busy taking everything in. The luxury. The danger. The way everyone moved like they belonged here. Like this was their world. And I... I wasn’t supposed to be part of it. And yet… I was. We moved deeper into the crowd.

With a dark, feral grunt, the massive Alpha violently threw his weight onto the steel bar. SCREECH. The sound of thick iron nails tearing out of cheap wood violently split the air. Jax stepped up right beside him, curling his massive, calloused fingers under the splintering wood where Fennigan had created a gap. With a synchronized, terrifying surge of pure werewolf strength, the two brothers ripped the entire top half of the lid clean off. The rough pine completely shattered, exposing the dark interior of the crate. And there he was. Damon Blackwood. The monster who had built a slaughterhouse under their feet. His skin was pale and waxy in the dim fluorescent light of the loading bay, his b

Without warning, the lights in the room flickered, and the monitors blinked out one by one, replaced by a single image—a face. Blackwood. His cold, calculating eyes stared at them from the screen. “Well, well,” his voice came through the speakers, smooth and venomous. “I was wondering when you would show up.” “Blackwood,” Isabella said, her voice sharp. “We’re shutting you down. Lazarus ends here.” “You think you can stop me?” His laugh was low, dark. “You can’t even begin to understand what I’ve created. Lazarus is beyond your reach, Isabella. It’s already too late.”

“Then we do what we must.” Maxwell glanced at me. “You ready for this?” I wasn’t sure anyone could be ready for what we were about to do. But there was no time for hesitation. I squared my shoulders. “Let’s go.” --- The Blackwood estate loomed ahead, its towering gates shut tight. The once-grand mansion had fallen into disrepair after the war, its windows dark, its gardens overgrown. But beneath it lay the vault—one of the most heavily guarded places in the supernatural world.

Lilith’s POV The next morning, Magnus summoned me to his study. He didn’t smile. He just gestured for me to sit, then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk like a man about to make a deal with the devil. “There’s a pack,” he began, with his dangerously low voice. “Blackwood.” I nodded, recognising the name instantly. Blackwood was a respected and powerful pack. I had tried going there to see if they'd take me in, but other rogues told me they were unapproachable.

“You’ve been under my watch for months, locked away from the world. So tell me, Isla, what’s got you pleading for a pack you’ve never even met?” Liam shifted uncomfortably, his hand still near his knife, “Alpha, maybe we should—” “Quiet,” I snapped, not breaking eye contact with Isla. The Blackwoods were a myth to most, a pack of mystics, descended from the old bloodlines that once united the packs. They lost their authority due to fear, but they are still not one to be meddled with. If Isla was one of them, if she was the lost heir whispered about in rumors, then she wasn’t just my secretary.

"Whatever happens, I will never treat you like a weakness." The technical team regrouped near the main console, tracing the server connection through a labyrinth of proxy nodes until it hit a dead end: a dormant shell company. Ethan stared at the screen, a sudden flash of recognition crossing his features. He knew that name. It was an old Blackwood business dispute from nearly a decade ago—a predatory firm that had once been involved in a vicious, failed corporate takeover attempt against his father. Ethan realized the current attacks weren’t random acts of corporate espionage; they were part of a calculated revenge plan that had been developing quietly in the shadows for years.