The Black Hand Book Novels & Stories

Finally, she emerged, holding a book in her hand. "Here it is," she said, handing the book to me. Staring at the book, I asked, "What is this?". It was a black book with peculiar writing and a lock of some sort, which looked old and ancient. "The answers you seek are hidden in this book, along with the truth about your bloodline. You are destined for something far greater than you could have ever imagined, dear. But you must be careful, for there are others who wish you dead," she said.

The tears welling up in my eyes were just for the time I felt I had wasted. Seven years of my life, gone on. Wasted on someone like him. The hand reaching out to me shook just as my tears started to fall. He pressed his lips together and pulled his hand back. "I was just teasing you. It’s no big deal..." He did not get to finish his words. Nevaeh tutted twice, her face twisted with scorn. "You say you're not after Caleb's money, but without him, you couldn't even dream of living in such a nice place."

The Black Hand family banquet was held in an old stone manor on the hill. Crystal chandeliers. Long tables draped in black velvet. Everything about it spoke of hierarchy and memory. When Ted stepped inside, he felt it immediately. The pause. The subtle shift. Low voices followed him like shadows. “That’s him… the Moretti heir.” “Didn’t their coastal line just lose three routes?” “I heard it’s because he married the wrong woman.” “A woman who doesn’t understand rules.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and descend. The air down here is cooler, thicker with the smell of leather and dust and secrets. Torches have guttered out, but faint violet light clings to the edges of things—my new sight, maybe, or the contract’s gift. The shadows dance ahead of me, playful almost, skipping along the shelves until they reach a particular bookcase. One tendril stretches, points. A heavy black tome launches itself from the highest shelf and thumps into my waiting hands. I stagger under the weight. The book is bound in leather so dark it drinks the light; no gold leaf, no embossed sigils, just smooth, inky blackness. The title is etched in silver that seems to shift when I ti

Three men burst into the room, dressed in black from head to toe, their silhouettes standing out like menacing shadows in the dim light. One of them, more imposing than the others, stood straight as a blade. He wore a black mask that revealed only his eyes—cold, implacable. Raphina, half-lying on the bed, jumped at the noise. His heart began to race, his brain unable to process what was happening. He didn't even have time to open his mouth before one of the men lunged at him.

Sophia was gone. My hand shaking, I grabbed the burner phone and dialed the emergency number. "Isabella?" My grandfather's voice was instant and sharp. "Grandpa... help..." I was so weak I could barely form the words. "Sophia... poisoned me... the baby..." "I'm sending men now!" his voice roared with a fury that promised retribution. "Hold on, child!" Ten minutes later, three men in black suits were in my room. "Miss Rossi," the leader said, his eyes taking in the blood. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"If I can't be a doctor, I'll make sure the people who harmed me won't have it easy." His smile faded, and Giselle stared at me intently. I ignored them and went back to my old office. The anesthesiologist and others, who had been waiting for me, walked over with long faces. "We never expected Giselle's background to be so solid. We can't afford to offend her anymore." Confused, I was about to ask about the details when the anesthesiologist handed me his phone. I froze as I read an entry in the encyclopedia about her.

"Can I come in?" My first instinct was to refuse, but curiosity won out. "Fine." The door opened slowly, and Fin stepped inside, looking so different from his usual arrogant self that I almost didn't recognise him. His shoulders were hunched, his expression guarded, and in his hands he held what looked like a large book. "I, uh, brought you something," he said awkwardly, holding out the book. "It's about Shadowmoon Pack history. I thought you might want to learn about where you come from."

Its pages were yellowed and brittle with age, covered in an elegant, spidery script that spoke of centuries of secrets. "This is the Blood Ledger," Finch said, his voice as calm and deep as a forest pool at midnight. He adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles, his long, slender fingers tracing the embossed, blood-red title on the cover with a historian's reverence. "It is an unsanctioned, unofficial, and utterly terrifying record of the world's most dangerous freelance hunters, assassins, and enforcers. They serve no council, pledge allegiance to no species. Their only loyalties are to coin and carnage."

"The Black Rose League... it's impossible. You don't have the liquid capital. No one has that kind of shadow-funding." Kai Reyes had dropped his casual stance by the window. His cigarette was out, forgotten as he stared at the screen with the eyes of a soldier realizing he had walked into an ambush. His tongue clicked against his back teeth, his rogue’s grin replaced by a mask of cold, tactical alertness. "Damn," Kai hissed, his voice a low growl of respect and fear. "The ghost stories from the underworld... the ones we’ve been hearing for three years... they weren't legends. They were blueprints."