Degrassi The Next Generation Marco And Dylan Novels & Stories

“There’s someone I’d love for you to meet.” Carla blinked. “Oh?” I didn’t like the sound of that. And then he appeared. A tall, blond and blue-eyed male. Dashing and well-dressed. The resemblance between him and Luca was unmistakable. “This,” Luca announced, “is Marco. My grandson.” Marco stepped forward, stopping far too close to Carla. He smiled; easy and confident. “Hi, Carla,” he said smoothly, extending his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Carla hesitated briefly before shaking it. “All good things, I hope.”

"The pain in my body... it feels a little less every time I see Marco begging me. Watching his arrogance crumble, seeing his pleading eyes... plus the destruction of the Sinclaire family's ego, and soon, my own." “That was the best entertainment I could ask for before I die.” Jonah fell silent. His Adam’s apple bobbed before he snorted softly, shaking his head. “You’re a terrifying little devil.” “And you’re my partner in crime,” I replied without hesitation. I adjusted my seatbelt. “We need a new strategy starting tomorrow. Marco is drunk on victory, and we need to make him even more so.” “What’s the plan?”

Marco commented with concern. “Do you think we made a good enough impression?” Landon asked as Maura looked at us all in confusion. “I doubt it, he didn’t seem all that impressed”. Marco replied with a roll of his eyes. “Why are you all so worried about Levi?” Maura chimed in. “He’s your brother, so why does there seem to be a problem?” “Well he’s not exactly thrilled about us being here mixing with a breed that isn’t our own, or about my plans for our future”. Marco answered her, and I felt a wave of nausea when he mentioned the future. That ever looming worry of having to produce his hybrids.

Feeling relieved, Isla hurried back to join Sade and Madison. When they stepped into their own classroom, Isla couldn’t help but notice Marco sitting near the back of the room. He was the new kid from New York, and he already had a reputation for being a bit of a troublemaker. Marco had three sisters, a brother, his mom, and his grandma. Isla had overheard Sade saying that his dad had passed away earlier that year during a robbery. Marco caught sight of Sade as they passed, and without missing a beat, he reached out and gave one of her braids a playful tug.

I'm not ready to be that old. - Just wait. I'm going to be a nonno and still have more pussy than you. - Go to hell. — Marco got up from the chair. — Let me know when the lovebirds are ready to leave. The knot in my stomach twisted. - I go. — Oh, and did you hear? D'Agostino died.

I whisper, my voice breaking. The room falls silent, the weight of my words settling over all of us. Marco is gone. ##########

“We settle this with rules. No knives, no deaths at the table. Any dispute becomes an operation and is therefore taxed by command.” Marco’s hand hovered like a predator. He didn’t step back. Pride sat heavy on him, and that pride smelled of gasoline. Diana’s eyes flicked to Logan—searching, measuring. “You promise?” He nodded, then turned his head, and in the fraction of an exhale Marco lunged. The room erupted.

“I came to make sure no one here gets ideas. Damien dying was unfortunate. But he played with fire. You know that. I know that. You don’t have to pretend otherwise.” One of the old guys shifted like he wanted to say something. I looked at him, then back at the kid. “You’ve got whispers floating through this room. Marco’s name coming up too much. Like maybe he’s still got something. Let me tell you something clear. He’s got nothing.” I stepped forward. “He’s got no wife. No soldiers worth their guns. No power. He’s scrambling like a corner rat, and all he’s gonna do is bleed.” The kid crossed his arms, trying to look firm. “We’ve lost a lot.”

She could see that Marco was on the brink of something, his tears already starting to form. With a gentle voice, she asked, "Why are you crying?" Marco was quick to wipe away the tears from his face as he glared at her. "I'm not crying! I'm too old for that!" Cris chuckled lightly, amused by his stubbornness. "How old are you then?" "I'm five years older than you!" he retorted, a playful grin spreading across his face. Cris arched an eyebrow. "So, you're thirteen years old?" Marco laughed quietly, as if he was reminiscing about their childhood banter. "No, I'm already ten years old. My mom told me that boys usually grow taller five years after girls, so don't worry, I'll be taller than you s

Dylan asserts confidently. Yet, Marco remains hushed. His jaw clenches, his sweat trickling down his forehead. A chuckle escaped Dylan’s lips as he caught sight of Marco’s edgy expression. “What are you so worried about?” “I’m not exactly sure... but I hope I’m just mistaken about what I’m thinking.” Dylan gazes at the melting ice in his glass of whiskey. “You’re overthinking it.” Marco couldn’t sit still, his eyes glued to every move Cheyne’s opponent made.