Jack Mercer Four Brothers Novels & Stories

✧⁠◝⁠(BROOKLYN)⁠◜⁠✧ They left me. The brothers had refused to tell me who Rebecca was to them, their faces shuttered and evasive. They'd exchanged glances filled with something I couldn't read—guilt? Shame? Fear?—and then they had left. All four of them. Hours had passed since they walked out that door, and none of them had returned. The silence in my room was deafening, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind outside my window and the distant sounds of the packhouse settling in for the night.

Both men possessed sharp, distinctive features, and it was evident that they shared a resemblance, hinting that they were somewhat related. "Long time no see, brother," the man on the right spoke. My breath caught in my throat, struggling to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape. Brother? These two were my father's brothers?! What the fuck?! They bore no resemblance to my father, neither in their features nor in their apparent age. "Dante," The name fell off of my dad's lips, his wide eyes betraying a deep recognition that spanned years. "Ah, so you do recognize us," Matteo, the man on the left, chimed in, a note of amusement lacing his words. "Impressive."

Carina’s POV Everyone was waiting for my answer. Adriano knelt on the floor, holding up that sketchbook, his eyes full of desperate hope. I looked at him, and felt nothing. Not a single ripple. If anything, it was pathetic. “Put that disgusting thing away.” My voice was clear and cold, a spike of ice piercing the backstage silence. “Adriano Moretti, do you really think you can use my dead brother’s memory to buy my sympathy?”

The position as the Jacques Family's Master was originally in his pocket. However, when he heard about what had happened to the fourth brother's family, he couldn't care too much. It was because he suddenly found that Fourth's family could ignore him at any time and even leave him alone. Moreover, he would live a much better life than him. So, what was the point of competing? After the two brothers, the eldest brother finally gave in .

Marcus warned. But who can stop the Ford brothers? They are loud but a happy bunch. While they stared openmouthed at our children, Macy opened her eyes. She looked startled, seeing four men hovering above her. She rolled to her side and bumped into her brother. Her movement awakened Marky. Together, they sat up in bed, eyes growing wide. Macy’s lips quivered as she surveyed the four brothers looking down on her. “Da-da!” She cried when she recognized Marcus. Using her palms for support, Mac stood on the bed. Marky mimicked her actions.

Zero So I do what I fucking came to do and get my ass back to the meek girl. If I thought she was scared of me, fuck she is terrified of Knight and I can't for the life of me think why. The brother is shorter than me, less muscle and he is the most mellowed one of us. “So you aren't or you won't lift up your sleeves?” I catch the end of his words and see why. “Fucking asshole, you're scaring the girl, just ignore him he left his man pants at home,” Mercy tells her.

He glanced at her and whispered, "Don't worry, baby. No one in this world can separate us. The Styles and Miller families are nothing in my eyes!" Angela's eyes widened. "Hubby..." Jate turned around and snarled at Jimmy Miller and Mico Styles, "You guys have frightened my wife! Get on your knees and apologize to her!" Huh? He's getting them to apologize? Everyone else around the hall was stunned. How unreasonable! Mico Styles face darkened, and he calmly said, "I guess you want to do this the hard way. Big four, go ahead and teach him a lesson!" Among Mico Styles's subordinates, the Big four were the strongest. The team consisted of Ram, Chris, Klien, and Rod. They were childhood sworn brot

When I came back from Silvermoon Training Camp, I saw my older brother, Zachary Barker, leaning back against the couch with fine beads of sweat sliding down his taut neck. He was wearing some gray sweatpants, and his eyes looked somewhat dazed. "Zachy? Why are you back so early today?" I went over to him, meaning to grab his hand, but instead, I touched a warm, sticky liquid on his hand. "Why's your hand all wet?" I asked, holding up my hand and sniffing it. "There's a strange smell to it too…"

Tonight was the night. The night my brothers had dreamed of. The Stanley Cup Finals. Ever since we were young, all three of my brothers have loved playing hockey. Growing up in New Hampshire where the winters are cold and long, there was not much to do but play on the ice. My brothers, Quinn, Jack, and my twin, Luke, were amazing skaters and even better puck handlers. It helped that our dad was a former player as well as an assistant coach for Boston. He got his love of hockey from his mother, our grandmother. To say hockey was our life was an understatement. When Quinn was drafted in 2018, it was incredible. Then, Jack was the first overall draft pick in the 2019 NHL draft. Next was Luke, w

“Very sure. This is Jeremy Carter we're talking about. The same Jeremy that played an entire football match with a fractured wrist because he didn't want to lose to Chicago.” I sniff and wipe under my eyes. “The same Jeremy," she continues, "that got tackled so badly during nationals that people thought he broke his spine, but this idiot stood up three minutes later and still scored the winning touchdown.” I let out a small laugh. She points at me immediately. “Exactly. You know what I mean. A man like that can't die easily. Death will probably see him coming and decide it doesn't want the stress.” Ok now I really laugh. She joins in immediately, and for a few seconds, the hospital around us