Hit The Mark Novels & Stories

So I decided to wait for him…. JASVER ROSSI….. Mark’s punch snapped my head back with such force my teeth rattled. My vision got blurred for some moment but it got cleared after some time. “Hit me.” I ordered him but he didn't move. “I said hit me. What the fuck are you waiting for?” I yelled at him but his face was covered with concern.

Mark growls, and before I can say anything else, Lucas’s fist slams into his jaw so fast I barely even see it. “Shit!” I mutter, stumbling backward as Mark stumbles, only to lunge right back at Lucas, full force. But Lucas moves like a shadow…smooth, quick, dangerous. He sidesteps the hit like it’s nothing, grabs Mark by the shirt, and hurls him into the wall with a brutal crack.

“Chase, we understand your feelings, but Taryn is dead.” I denied every word of saying that she was dead. “No, she is my Luna. She is still alive.” “What if her body was found? Wynette is also a good girl.” I shuddered from the pain. It was hot cigar ashes falling on my hand. “If her body was found, I would follow where she is.” Splat. Mom slapped my face and left. I watched raindrops falling constantly. My heart ached again. I pressed cigar ashes onto my palm. Did it hurt? Was Taryn hurt?

Mark straddled him pulled his fists back and slammed it into Cholo’s face with a sickening crunch “You think you can touch her?” Mark snarled, slamming another fist into Cholo’s face. “Think you can play your sick little games?” Cholo grunted, blood pouring from his nose, his lip was split wide open. He tried to throw a punch, but Mark caught his wrist, twisting it at an unnatural angle. A sickening pop filled the air, followed by Cholo’s sharp scream.

he agreed. "I'm so sorry, Mark. We were mistaken. You said you haven't seen her and you didn't hurt her, and I believe you." "You do?" A second later, Mark was howling in pain from the silver spike I drove through his hand. "AAHHHHHHHHH!"

Don’t Let Me Down by The Chainsmokers and Daya was one of her favorites. “What’s Cade doing?” “Focus sparring. Mark wears the focus mitts—the gloves—but generally keeps the palm, which is the flat side, from showing. Cade has to focus on pretty much everything because the only time he can hit is when Mark shows the flat side of the mitts. He can’t hit anything else. His attention slips, and Mark could just hit him or even throw elbows, knees, or kicks.”

Besides, she had been to school before, so what she said made these people speechless in an instant. "Bitch, you don't know who you are after finding a gigolo. Are you worthy of the dead Goofy?" Mark said angrily. As soon as he said this, he leaned forward and wanted to hit Gemma. "What's wrong? Are you so ashamed into anger that you want to hit me?" Looking at Mark, Gemma asked coldly. "You think I don't dare?" Mark gritted his teeth and quickly raised his hand. Before his hand could land, he felt a great force in his abdomen, and his whole body flew backward uncontrollably.

Mark proudly declares as he begins to choose the tea leaves that he would use to make tea. Stupefied at what the perverted ugly human being had declared, Angelo can’t help but throw the nearby throw pillows towards the ugly human being’s face, and this time the throw pillows hit its target- which is Mark’s face. Angelo let out a sneaker, seeing that he finally hit the perverted ugly human being’s disgusting face.

Not from the power. From the voice. I know that voice. I should not. But I do. The figure steps closer. The Hunters hesitate now, uncertainty breaking through their discipline. Even they can feel it. This is not part of their plan. Mark shakes off the resistance and moves again, faster this time, more aggressive. He closes the distance and strikes without holding back. The blow connects. This time, it does not pass through. The figure takes the hit. Slides back a step. Then stops.

Stamped on the front: the crescent and three slashes. My stomach tightened. That mark is pack ink. It doesn’t belong in human soil. “That’s not supposed to be here,” I said, and I meant it in every way. A twig snapped behind the fence line, too close. A voice drifted over, amused. “Found something, witness?”