How Old Is Marcus Lopez In Deadly Class Novels & Stories

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. I looked over Zoey's shoulder and saw a grinning Marcus, looking as idiotic as ever. We had been friends since we were six years old and the boy loved Mexican food, especially tacos. He was tall, around six-foot-two, hefty on the muscles (it's a wolf thing buddy), always sporting the disheveled look on his dark brown hair and for the gooey part, as Zoey would like to describe his piercing pale blue eyes, it made her shiver all the way down south. I didn't want to imagine what she meant about the shivering part... Disgusting.

Had feelings for, and he knew it tormented his friend that he had no idea who the person was. "Besides," He continued with a shrug. "You're lucky enough not to have go through the torture of losing someone you love." "Ah ha! So she died," "She didn't, Ace." "So she's alive? Yes! The first clue in weeks!" "That isn't even a clue!" Marcos chuckled, but a smile was on his face now.

He paused, his ex‍pressio⁠n dar⁠kening. “Casualt​ies,‌” he⁠ continue‍d. “Two dead, fifteen inj⁠ured most of whom you’ve already hea⁠led.​ The dead are Marcus Dane, young‌ enforcer, twen‌ty-three yea‍rs ol‍d, an⁠d El⁠ara Ch⁠en, heale​r’s assi‌stant​,​ thirty-one.”

"Teams of two. Clear each building systematically. If you find anything Class C or above, signal immediately and retreat. We're not equipped for threats above your pay grade." He paired me with a Hunter named Marcus. I almost laughed at the cosmic joke of it. Marcus. My dead fiancé's name. The man whose face I couldn't remember anymore. This Marcus was nothing like him. He was older, maybe forty, with scars across his forearms and the dead-eyed look of someone who'd been hunting for years. He didn't introduce himself. Just nodded and headed into the fog. I followed. We cleared three buildings without incident. Empty rooms, collapsed floors, the occasional rat scurrying through debris. My war

I replied, he paused for a while before speaking up. “Elder Marcus is dead!”

Luciano was irritated as he struggled to get free; however, the men held him down “Such a useless man, who can't even man up and save the woman he claims to love… you dared hurt her!” Marcos yelled with a heavy slam of his fist on the table, such that Corina sitting to the sides flinched, the other men lowered their heads when their boss rose to his feet. Corina's expression turned sour, why was Marcos bothered about Olivia getting killed

“Alright… alright. It wasn’t all me. I didn’t hurt anybody on purpose. It was—it was Marco. He’s the one who planned it. The stash is in his cousin’s garage, out in Old Chapel Row.” Reyes watches him for a moment, then nods slowly. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” He gathers the photos methodically, stands, and heads for the door—cool, casual, confident. … The hallway is dim. Concrete walls. Echoes of distant phones ringing. It’s late. Empty. Quiet. DI Reyes walks with Marcos León, mid-20s, in cuffs. Marcos has a smirk on his face despite the bruises already forming on his jaw. His lip is split from the arrest, but he doesn’t care.

It was rehearsed, smooth. Then I saw him. Lorenzo Delphini. Older than me by a good stretch, maybe mid-sixties, but he carried himself with the kind of weight that didn’t need an introduction. Sharp eyes, firm jaw, dressed in a coat that fit like it was cut from his own shadow. He walked forward, no rush, no show, just presence. “Marco De Luca,” he said, holding his hand out. I met his grip. Strong. Direct. His eyes locked on mine, weighing me, measuring. This wasn’t a greeting—it was an assessment.

“Can’t have that. Bad for business.” “So you put a bullet in him.” “Three bullets, actually. But who’s counting?” Marcus’s smile widened. “And now here we are. The Vipers scattered. Your clubhouse ashes. Most of your men are dead or running. And you?” He gestured at me. “Tied to a chair in my warehouse.” I said nothing. “But there’s one loose end.” Marcus stood. “The girl. Elara.” My jaw tightened involuntarily. Marcus saw it.