Frank Castle Novels & Stories

He didn’t need to look at the screen to know who it was. He assumed Tristan was ready to go home. Instead, “Dad,” Tristan said, sounding annoyed, “the lady won’t sign me up unless she sees you.” Franklin pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d entrusted authority to Rex, yet here they were. “I’m coming,” he muttered, irritation crawling up his spine. What he didn’t expect was the identity of the “lady.” Cassie Munroe. His ex-sister-in-law. The woman he still wasn’t sure how to classify. Enemy? Threat? Misunderstood survivor?

I said between bites, “you and Castle. How long have you known each other?” He rolled his eyes. “Since we were kids, alright? His family’s… complicated. But then, you already know that.” “Complicated how?” I prodded. He hesitated, then shrugged. “His dad’s a control freak. Castle grew up with more rules than affection. He doesn’t talk about it, but… you can see it, if you know where to look.” I leaned back, chewing slowly. “He hides it well.” “That’s because he had to. Vulnerability’s not a luxury he grew up with.”

Dimitri Castello. The ruthless, powerful, and boringly attractive Lord of the Ford Empire Group, a Fortune 500 legend. He was the man who'd created a buzz at the Houston's Wildlife Trust gala three nights ago. Rumored to be ruthless and anyone who got in his way was disposed of without ceremony or even, it was said without emotion. He was like a permanent face card on every major magazine cover. He owned all of New York, and his connections and affluence extended across countries. He was the man every woman wanted and yet no one could get. His name alone screamed power.

To keep running? The Sanctuary. That red door with Cyrillic script. Maybe his world wasn't what I thought. Maybe I wasn't as principled as I believed or maybe my principles had been survival in disguise. The knock made me jump. “Come in.” Frank entered. He had taken off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt, letting the fabric fall open and reveal the hard planes of his chest. I was staring. He definitely noticed.

“Carlo drove me out the other day to go see my friend who would get the footage for us. On the way Carlo stopped at the gas station and I saw Castleford running out of the store like he was being chased by hounds. He was in such a hurry that his plastic bag tore open and everything he got was practically on the floor. I guess he's an alcoholic now with how much alcohol he bought”. Niccolo said while laughing. That sounds just about wrong. Bernard Castleford doesn't drink. He doesn't smoke. He literally lives a very meticulously healthy lifestyle. “Are you sure it's him?” “Of course it's him. I would recognize that goatee and crazed look from anywhere”. He insisted “Description fits but Castl

"Bastard, you've got the guts to provoke me! Do you know who my uncle is? He's the real estate tycoon of the Two Lakes area, Lincoln Zott! Mess with me, and you won't leave here in one piece …" Frank glared at Caspian and shouted angrily. Before Frank could finish his sentence, Caspian kicked him out. Frank was sent flying, crashed into the wall, and collapsed onto the floor. His head felt dizzy from hitting the wall.

Although he was reluctant to accept Candace's words, he did not want to disappoint her and calmly complied. Soon an hour passed, and as expected, Scott sent Candace's mail several documents. Upon receiving the information, Candace went through each page and frowned, until finally there was only one file left, the one on Mr. Castle. In the corner of the document was a picture of a man in his late fifties, Galileo Castle, of the Castle Mort group. While she was concentrating on the file, a sudden call came into her phone. "Candace, are you sure this man is Daisy's father? That man has been through 8 marriages! They say he has a mistress in every town! He's a total playboy! " Scott said, amazed

But now, it was like someone had built a wall between us overnight. “Of course, Mr. Castillo,” I replied, forcing a polite smile. I’d gotten the message loud and clear: whatever connection I thought we might have shared, it was gone. Not like we’d ever really been friends, I reminded myself. I was just a poor, unimportant girl. And he… he was Alaric Castillo, a mafia don. He rose from the bed, his movements precise, controlled. Francesca looked up at him, her small hand reaching for his, but he pulled away, his attention already elsewhere.

Everyone envied Cassandra for having such a faithful man by her side and not only was he faithful, but he treated her best friend like a younger sister. How could they have thought he would be banging her behind closed doors? ‘’Coming’’ Frank cleared his table as he followed closely behind Martha. He did not want to think of the worst, but the handwriting on the wall seemed to be clearer this time than others. ‘’Come in’’ President Tarlor Calvin ushered him in. Martha stayed at her station while Frank walked in alone. ‘’Have a seat’’ Calvin offered. Just like Carlson, he was one of the youngest bachelors and wealthiest in the country. They were not only friends but business partners. ‘’Do yo