Novel & Cerita How Old Is Marcus Lopez In Deadly Class

Marco grew up at the center of it all, and no one saw him. Elena processed the information. "Where is he now?" Luca smiled. That blood-curdling smile. "Close. Very close. In fact, you've seen him." The world stopped. "What?" "The man with the scar." "The one who calls himself Matteo the eldest." Luca chuckled softly. "That's not Matteo. Matteo died twenty years ago, in a reformatory, from an overdose. My father told me that one night, drunk, before he locked me up for good."

“Look at me, playing nurse again. Think I should get certified, Boss? Make it official?” “Don’t,” I warn. But his grin dies anyway when I growl, “It’s Luzia.” His face tightens. “Remember what she did last time? You almost obliterated a man’s entire family.” I shake my head hard. “That’s what Dante thought. That she’s fucking around. But now it’s been two days, Marco. Two days. I can feel it.” My throat works, the words jagged. “She’s dead already.” He grabs my shoulder. “Let Dante take care of it. It’s probably nothing.”

So why was I dead? Marcus had the idea that I lie about my death, that I fake it , after the explosion, I had been seriously injured and Marcus had treated me alone , all this , so that i'll be able to kill Melezo, the real one and not a copy as usual. We had stubbornly left the coffin empty, Marcus had taken care of everything, no one had to know for the plan to work well, not even Felicity . I approached closer to the bed and I watched as Felicity's eyes widened in shock at the sight of me, clearly thinking I was dead. I gestured for her to be quiet, not wanting to alert Melezo to my presence just yet.

Lorenzo sat in the middle of it, distant from all of it, like the room had moved on without him. "How long have you been hearing this?" he said. "A week maybe," Marcos said. "I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure..." "How old." Lorenzo snapped Marcos looked at him. "What?" "The rumours. Do they say how old the children are?" he asked, his tone controlled but sharper than before. The table went quiet. Ethan put his glass down slowly. "Lorenzo..." "How old." Lorenzo asked again, cutting him off Marcos held his gaze. "Around three or two and a half. I'm not really sure"

Luca held Grace. Derek held Hope. Derek Jr. slept. We were a family. The four of us. And the children. The painting watched. The doorbell rang. Luca answered. A man stood there. Tall. Dark hair. No scar. He said his name was Marcus. But Marcus was dead. He smiled. He said he was the real Marcus. The one who had died was his twin. He said he had come to take what was his. Hope. He pulled out a knife.

“The system my father was able to work under for so many years? That's how you all got away with murder?” "No." Marcus shook his head. "I'm confessing. Right now. In front of witnesses and cameras. ” He raised his eyes to the security cameras on the corner. "Darkest Side of the Moon we learn that dumb as a rock Marcus is the one who killed Isabella Del Rios, but it was under works by Dimitri D'Angelo. I’ve been a fugitive for 15 years. And I am giving myself up for justice.” "Uncle Marcus, no!" I screamed. My voice, however, was muffled by the glass.

"Permanent guard duty, you'll watch for vampires, and r reor rogues. For any threat. And if you fail again, if you betray us again, you'll be executed immediately." "What about Roselyn?" I ask, "and Leo?" "The boy died yesterday," Marcus says flatly, "His body couldn't handle the torture, he was too weak, too young." My heart stops, "You killed a child?" "We disciplined a traitor," Marcus corrects. "There's a difference." "What about Roselyn?" I press. "Is she still alive?" "Barely," Marcus says. "She has one more month. If she survives, if the prophecy stops, maybe she lives. But I doubt she'll make it. She's too far gone."

" I laugh, she is right. MJ is 16 and has a boyfriend, which was a shock for everyone. "It is nice to meet you, Wayne." I hold out my hand as he shakes it. "Thank you, I have heard a lot about you three, I know you're her dead, but she speaks of you all highly." Marcus nods smiling. "I also know your thoughts, I am 30, so ten years older than her, so I understand if you don't approve." "I approve, don't worry so will Marcus, you two have the years on him and his misses." I look at Marcus, he does.

Ghost opened the third file. And the room went silent. A photo appeared older, grainy, but unmistakable. A man in his late fifties, dark eyes, sharp jaw, the kind of presence that radiated danger even through a screen. Ghost read the file aloud. “Hector Marquez. Age fifty‑eight. Former El Jefe of the Marquez cartel.” Shamrock let out a low whistle. “Jesus.” Salvatore’s expression hardened. “I thought he disappeared years ago.”

"So you admit you just watched it happen? Without helping Luciano or calling for help?" The room fell a little quieter, as if agreeing with Rico. Marco’s grin stiffened and his eyes darkened. "Don't pin this on me," he quickly countered. "I was only a boy." "There is no such thing as a boy in our world, and you know that," Rico quickly responded. "If I remember correctly, you made your first kill at fifteen," he said, taking his fingers away from the chair. "So why didn't you step in?" Marco tightened his fists by his sides. "Shut the fuck up," he muttered.