Simon Blackquill Novels & Stories

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.

And Simon knew it. “Tell me,” Adrian said, voice deathly calm. “What’s your next move, little brother? Going to take my company next? My home?” Simon’s smile darkened. “Why stop there?” Adrian let out a bitter laugh. “You should’ve killed me while you had the chance.” Simon’s smirk faltered for just a second. Because Adrian Blackwood was not a man who stayed down. He was a man who struck back. The moment Simon turned, Adrian lunged. The chair splintered beneath his strength as he ripped free from his bindings. Simon barely had time to react before Adrian tackled him, slamming him against the crates.

“I’ll help you both. This is bigger than you realize.” Cassandra and I turned to Simon. There was a steely resolve in his gaze. A determination that told me he was more than just a friend offering comfort. “Simon, what do you mean?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t just come back to Edendale for Owen’s funeral,” he explained. “Since you’re dealing with the Blackwoods, I owe you both the truth. I’m with Interpol. For the past few years, I’ve been working undercover on a major drug trafficking case. We’ve been hunting down the people behind it. All signs point to the Blackwood family.”

At 10 a.m., Simon called the South Regent again. The call connected quickly, and the South Regent asked, “Who is this?” Simon’s expression darkened. The South Regent must have known that it was him but was feigning ignorance. Did he think that Simon was easy to mess with? Simon took a deep breath. “It’s me, Simon Quinn.” “Oh, it’s you, boss.” The South Regent emphasized the word ‘boss’, but there was no hint of respect in his tone. “Do you need something from me?”

Simon confessed. Damien’s expression turned cold. “What?” “Boss, there’s no forgiveness for my act. I’m apologizing for breaking your trust and being a thief,” he said, closing his eyes tightly as he waited for Damien’s response but got none. The phone was silent, and this made Simon start sobbing. “I’m ready for any punishment, even death,” he said, crying. “Who is blackmailing you?” Damien’s voice finally spoke, causing Simon to immediately wipe his tears, then clear his throat.

"Get some rest. I have somewhere to go." "Where to?" "To be Ms. Jowell's chauffeur." Xavier hopped into his car and drove straight to Nocturnal Club. Before he arrived, Simon had already shown up. The group of wealthy scions was shocked that Simon had the nerve to appear in front of Quinn. "What's he doing here? Doesn't he have enough shame already?" "Do you think the real-name whistleblowing has anything to do with Quinn?" "If it does, then she's truly terrifying!" Simon overheard their whispers and shot a cold glare at the gossiping group. That silenced them immediately.

I didn’t bother to greet them; instead, I took my seat with an air of defiance, determined to remain unyielding in the face of their scrutiny. “Xavier Black of the Blood Moon Pack, do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?” Elder Simon asked, his voice authoritative yet tinged with a hint of amusement. I knew he had always been fond of me, and it seemed that sentiment hadn’t waned, even in the face of this farce. “I swear to tell nothing but the truth,” I replied, my tone steady. Before Elder Simon could continue, Elder Samuel shot up from his seat, interrupting the proceedings. I rolled my eyes in exasperation; he always seemed to have a knack for stealing the spotlight from

What does Alex have on him? Simeon exhales and runs a hand across his face. Capital. Control. Perhaps something more serious. It's of no consequence. He went with his side. Elizabeth looks at him, her own steely with tenacity. We have to strike back then—immediately. Simeon raises the resignation letter and crushes it in his fingers. We will now. Watching the man sit opposite him, Alex reclines in his chair, smirking. The top Blackwood Corporation investors, all with thoughtfully determined price tags. Swirling the whisky in his glass, Alex remarks, "You have all been patient."

"My lord, when shall we launch our assault on the werewolves? The time is ripe, and our forces are ready." Simon, the enigmatic leader with an air of authority, leaned back in his ornate chair. His eyes glowed with a predatory gleam as he considered the unfolding scenario. "Patience, my loyal followers. We have a new weapon at our disposal, thanks to Joey's ingenious approach. Before we unleash our full might, let us play a game with our unsuspecting adversaries."

Who would have thought that the man and his mini-me would be moving into her house in a blink of an eye? “What do you think, President Zachary?” Quinn asked him rather politely. Simon’s expression remained unchanged, and he said without the slightest hesitation, “That sounds good. Thank you, Old Master, for your kind hospitality.” Upon saying these words, he looked at Sharon, his obsidian eyes filled with hidden intent.