Blacke Contracts
Chana Watkins · Ongoing · 74.5k Words
Introduction
Until the emails start.
Requests she never sent. Orders she doesn’t remember approving. Materials that shouldn’t exist, let alone be sourced. Every time she pushes back, systems fail, records disappear, and something unseen tightens its grip.
Someone is using her.
And worse erasing every trace.
As Rowan prepares for a high-stakes industry expo, the pressure builds. The same company name keeps appearing at the center of it all: Blacke Industries: a firm with no clear history, no visible leadership, and far too much influence behind the scenes.
Corvin Blacke has spent centuries building his empire on control. His company operates in both worlds, human and otherwise, and nothing moves through his system without his knowledge.
Until now.
Something has breached his network. Something powerful. Something reckless.
And somehow… it’s tied to Rowan.
She doesn’t know the rules.
She doesn’t understand the danger.
But she did something no one else has ever done.
She refused.
Now caught between a force that won’t let her go and a man who deals in binding agreements, Rowan is about to learn that in Corvin’s world, everything comes with a cost.
And the only way out…
is a contract.
Chapter 1
Rowan Vance didn’t usually get emails at 2:13 a.m. Not marked urgent, anyway. She stared at her phone from the edge of her bed, the glow cutting through the dark like it had something to prove. For a second, she considered ignoring it. She didn’t. That was her first mistake.
Subject: RFQ- Immediate Fulfillment Required.
Attachments: 3
Client: Blacke Industries
Rowan frowned. She’d never heard of them. Which wasn’t unusual. New customers popped up all the time. Something about this sat wrong in her chest. Like trying to remember a word that stayed just out of reach. She opened the email.
Ms. Vance,
We require immediate sourcing and fulfillment of the attached materials.
Lead time is not acceptable.
Delays will not be tolerated.
You have handled our request before. We trust you will again.
Her brows pulled together. “Have handled your request before?” she muttered.
“No, I haven’t.” She would remember a client that rude. Still... she downloaded the attachments. The first file opened like any other spec sheet. Until she read it.
Item 001
Material: Obsidian composite (treated)
Notes: Must retain thermal integrity at extreme thresholds
Additional Requirements: Must not crack under internal pressure
“Okay…” Rowan whispered. She scrolled.
Item 002
Material: Silver alloy (unmarked origin preferred)
Notes: Must conduct without degradation
Additional Requirements: Purity cannot be verified through standard means
Her stomach tightened. “Unmarked origin?” She opened the third attachment. Everything in her body went still.
Item 003
Description: Hollow containment vessel
Material: Bone-derived composite
Notes: Must not reject occupant
Additional Requirements: Previous failure rate unacceptable
Rowan blinked. Then blinked again. “Yeah, no,” she said out loud, pushing herself upright. “Nope. Absolutely not.” She closed the file. Opened it again. Still there. A laugh slipped out of her, sharp and uneasy. “Okay. Either someone’s screwing with me…” or... She didn’t finish that thought.
Her email pinged. Another message. Same sender.
You’re taking longer than usual.
Rowan froze. Her eyes flicked to the timestamp. 2:16 a.m. She hadn’t replied. Hadn’t even typed anything. A cold feeling slid down her spine. “Okay,” she whispered. “Not funny.” Shey typed quickly.
I believe you may have the wrong contact. I have no record of previous order from company. Additionally, several of these specifications are not viable through standard sourcing channels.
She hovered over send. Then hit it. The reply came instantly.
You’ve never needed records before.
Her breath caught. That tight feeling in her chest came back, stronger this time. Like something was watching her. Waiting. Rowan slowly looked around her room. Dark. Quiet. Empty. Her phone bussed in her hand. Not an email this time. A new notification.
Unknown Number
Check your system.
Her pulse kicked up. She didn’t want to Every instinct told her to put the phone down, go back to sleep, pretend this wasn’t happening. She didn’t. Second mistake. Rowan grabbed her laptop and logged into her system. Orders. Clients. History.
Search: Blacke Industries
Results loaded. Her blood ran cold.
Completed Orders: 17
“No,” she whispered. Her hands moved faster now, clicking through records. Dates. Invoices. Shipping confirmations. Her name. Her approvals. All of it real. All of it was signed by her. “I didn’t “ she started, the stopped. She had no way to finish that sentence. The screen flickered. Just for a second. A new order populated. Live. Active.
STATUS: IN PROGRESS
ASSIGNED TO: Rowan Vance.
Her breath hitched. “I didn’t accept that,” she said, louder now.
Her phone buzzed again.
You always do.
Rowan’s heart slammed against her ribs. “This isn’t funny,” she said, even though no one was there to hear it.
The lights in her apartment flickered. Once. Twice. Then went out. Silence crashed in around her. Rowan sat frozen, and the laptop screen the only light left. Breathing shallow. Listening. A sound broke the quiet. A soft, deliberate knock. From her front door. Her stomach dropped. Another knock. Slower this time. Heavier, and then…. A voice. Low, calm. Too close.
“Rowan Vance,” it said.
She stopped breathing.
“Open the door.”
Rowan didn’t move. Didn’t blink. NO, absolutely not. Every survival instinct she had kicked in at once. Another knock, slower, more deliberate.
“Rowan.”
Her name sounded different this time. Not louder or sharper. Closer. Her throat went dry.
“How do you know my name?” she called out, forcing her voice to stay steady.
A soft sound, not from the door. From behind her. Nothing. Just her apartment. Dark, still. Her laptop screen flickered again. A new message.
You’ve always opened the door before.
Her chest tightened. “No,” she whispered. “No, I haven’t” The response came slower this time.
You just don’t remember.
Her stomach dropped. Another knock. Harder now.
“Last chance,” the voice said quietly.
Rowan’s fear snapped into anger. “NO, “She said, louder this time. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not opening that door.” Silence. For a second, she thought it was over. That maybe…... Her laptop screen went black. Then it came back. Every order on her screen- every single one- changed status
CANCELLED
CANCELLED
CANCELLED
Rowans breath caught. “Wait, no, no, no….” She grabbed the mouse, clicking frantically. Accounts she’d been working on for weeks, gone. Orders processing…. gone. Everything tied to .... Balcke Industries …Gone. Her phone buzzed again.
Careful.
Her hands froze.
You don’t understand what you’re refusing.
Her heart pounded harder now. Not just fear, panic. “My system doesn’t work like this.” She whispered. “You can’t just….”
I CAN
The lights flickered again, then steadied. The knock didn’t come back, instead a different sound. A faint scratching from outside her window. Rowan turned slowly. Her apartment was on the second floor. There was nothing out there but empty air. The scratching came again. Slow, intentional. Like claws against glass. Her breath caught as she stepped closer. Careful and reluctantly. Then she saw it. A shape, perched just outside her window. Too large to be a normal bird. Too still to be anything natural. Its head tilted, watching her, waiting. Rowan didn’t move. The message came through one last time.
We’ll try again.
The screen went dark. The thing outside her window spread its wings an disappeared into the night. Rowan stood there for a long moment. Heart still racing. Mind trying, and failing, to make sense of any of it. Finally, she let out a shaky breath and dragged a hand through her hair.
“Nope,” she muttered. “Nope. That’s… that’s not happening.”
She put her labtop on her desk and turned the lights back on. Everything looked normal again. Exactly the way it should.
“That was a glitch,” she said out loud, like saying it made it true. “System glitch. Stress. Too much work.”
Her voice sounded steadier than she felt. She forced herself to move. Back to bed. Covers pulled up. Lights off.
“Just a glitch,” she whispered again.
She stared at the ceiling. Wide awake. Thinking about cancelled orders. Emails that didn’t make sense. A voice that knew her name. Eventually, exhaustion won. Her eyes closed. Across the room, her laptop screen flickered. Just once. Long enough for a single line to appear.
You’ll open it next time.
Then it went dark again.
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Last Updated: 6/9/2026
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