Ty Blackthorn Novels & Stories

“Thank you, officer.” The call dropped and the phone almost slipped from my hand. I couldn't even continue. I was in my thoughts. My mom was going to be so mad at me. I know her too well; she would scold me. My thought process was interrupted by Tyler’s voice; he was on his phone. I felt a wave of panic as I followed Tyler's gaze to his phone screen. A news article was open, with the headline "Breaking News: Tragic happening, the Shadow Syndicate finally burst."

The fourth official said nothing and did not move, but the color in his face changed. I had heard the name before. Everyone had heard the name. You heard it in the way people talked about the Northern Territory quickly and without dwelling, the way you mention a storm that passed through a place you used to live. Kael Blackthorne. The Alpha who had fought three border wars in five years and won all of them. The Alpha whose first mate had betrayed him and had not lived to regret it for very long. The Beast of Blackthorne. That was what they called him.

I asked. Anya hesitated. Daniel’s hand moved slightly toward his blade. Anya saw it and smiled without warmth. “Not fear, Beta. Price.” “There it is,” Daniel said. “I am Black Thorn. Did you expect charity?” I leaned forward. Pain pulled at my side, but I ignored it. “What do you want?” “Sanctuary for three children.” Daniel’s eyes sharpened. “Whose children?” “My sister’s. Black Thorn will kill her line if they know I came here.”

He’s also as old as my father but appears younger because he’s healthy and still actually works out with his soldiers. The most exclusive and close-knit is Nathan's family. If need be, they will fight for him while having their eyes covered. He was one of those who assisted us in calming the royals when Mother passed away. He’d never bow down to a woman. Like his son. “Yes, Young Lady, To what do we owe this pleasure?” Thorn waggles his brows at me. Although both his parents are British, he is American born and bred, and therefore, he speaks without an accent most of the time.

She looked around and activated the mic, “All clear.” “Two agents are on their way,” she heard the boss say. Vicky cleared her throat and opened the door to be welcomed by the sound of the medical devices connected to the patient’s body. She pressed her lips when she saw Black Tiger lying on the bed. His naked torso was covered with scars and bruises. Bandages were around his chest, where he was shot. Vicky felt sad even though she and the mysterious agent have never shared a conversation. Black Tiger is someone calm, almost invisible, but his presence is very strong among them. He doesn’t need words to prove to the agents that he’s the best of all of them.

The sight before us made my breath lock in my throat. The fifty-foot golden quartz crystal at the center of the cavern, the ancient heartstone that held Blackthorn Valley together, was encased in a thick, pulsating web of black frost. Thick, unnatural tendrils rooted deep in the stone floor were pumping a murky, pale fluid directly into the crystal's core, turning its radiant golden light into a dim, malignant purple.

While hugging, she examined the wound. "You are a mess because of me." She said. "I know, I am a mess and that's the last thing you need right now... But this mess loves you endlessly." He confessed without breaking the hug. A few moments later, they both parted from the embrace. "Ah Silly me... I should have proposed you with a fresh rose." He said while glancing towards the bloodied rose. "I am super okay bukka. You yourself said, that the person should not be afraid of thorns If they crave for roses...and I am willing to take everything for you. Even though it is a Black Rose With Bloody Thorns, I don't mind at all." She said.

Ash lifted his head. When he spoke, the words sounded layered—as if two voices came from his mouth at once: “They’ve found me.” A low, rising roar echoed through the trees. Darkthorn had arrived. Hundreds—no, thousands—of warriors moved like a black tide just beyond the camp’s border, their torches bobbing in the dark. Their crest—a crimson thorn wrapped around a wolf’s skull—gleamed like fresh blood. Tyla sucked in a breath beside me. I stepped closer, shielding her with my body even though her power surged so fiercely she didn’t need me to.

They moved with predatory grace, forming a semicircle before the platform. The back door of the center vehicle opened. What stepped out was not merely a man. It was a force of nature. Lyrian Blackthorn emerged, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. He was tall, taller than any wolf I had ever seen, easily six and a half feet. His body was built like a weapon, all lean muscle and controlled power, wrapped in an immaculately tailored black suit. His hair was dark as midnight, slightly too long, falling across his forehead in a way that should have softened his appearance, yet somehow only made him more dangerous.