Malty Melromarc Death Novels & Stories

Valenti responded. “And I heard that the world was supposed to end in 2012,” I replied. “People say a lot of things, Valenti. And rumors spread faster than they can be proven. Five years ago, Marcello De Luca died right in front of me…crushed by a chandelier.” No one interrupted while I spoke and then… “His body was never recovered, though,” Ricci said. “And yet,” I said calmly, “his empire was.” That landed. I let the silence stretch and then continued.

"Marcus was alive. All those years. Watching. Waiting." "Yes." "And now he is dead." "Yes." I turned to my grandmother. "Who killed him?" She looked at the floor. "Dante Marchetti. He found Marcus in Prague. He tortured him. Killed him. Burned the body." Rex's face went pale. "My uncle killed Marcus?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because Marcus knew the truth. About the program. About the investors. About Dante's role in everything." "Dante wanted to silence him." "Yes." Rex pulled out his gun. "I am going to kill him."

Alpha Chris had dark circles around his eyes and continues to knock back the whisky “Because no one has officially met one, well, until today” It was my turn to knock back the whisky “Do you think that means our packs will merge?” and again he shakes his head “The Blood pack do not mate with outsiders” and I wondered where that would leave Alpha Erik and the rest of us. On cue he bursts through my door “I am losing her, her mark is fading” he grabs the bottle of whisky from Chris and guzzles from it “Oh and Marcus is dead” he slams the empty bottle on the table and i reluctantly grab him more from the cupboard.

” Aloha had prepared a massive speech to defend and prove his point, he was speaking like a persuasive speaker to convince me. However, my eyes were fixated at the end of the list, “Marcel Vincenzo. Date of death: 17th August 2044.” Seeing my son’s eighteenth birthday as his date of death buckled my knees, trembling my heart. I lost my footing briefly as my legs seemed to lose all their bones, Moira helped me to sit on the chair. With my heart drumming in my ears, I could help but cried out. “No, Maddox can’t do this to me.”

The past few days of celebration blurred in his eyes. Slowly, he stood to his feet and glared daggers at Yato. “What did you just say?” The words were brash, his insides fuming like embers. “I just found out in school today. He didn’t die at the explosion…” “Ahhhh!!!!” Roaring in pure rage, Marcel turned and threw the glass of bourbon in his hand across the wall. He heaved. Hands clenching and unclenching as he stared at the mess he created.

I found him standing at the battlements with Calla, looking at something below. Three figures at the treeline. "Who are they?" I asked. Milrac turned. His face was doing the thing it did when he was processing something enormous and refusing to let it show. The bond told me what his face wouldn't — shock, fury, and underneath both of them a grief being rapidly dismantled and rebuilt into something usable. "The one on the left," he said. "Is my uncle Solas. Who has been dead for fourteen years." I looked at the figure in the moonlight.

We held a funeral for him anyway. Now here he was, walking into our garage like a ghost who never left. I couldn’t move for a second. My mind kept flashing back to that night years ago. The fire. The screams. The way we all thought we had lost one of our own for good. Nobody questioned it. We were too busy trying to survive. “Damon?” Colt’s voice cut through the fog in my head. “You know that tattoo?” I nodded slowly, still staring at the screen. “Yeah. I know it. That’s Marcus Vale’s mark. He died in the explosion back in the first big war we fought. Or at least that’s what we all thought.”

Even the most disciplined pack members couldn't hide their surprise at such a direct accusation. I kept polishing, breathing evenly through my nose. Alpha Logan laughed, the sound genuine enough to make me glance up despite myself. "The Graystones died fifteen years ago, Marc. Your father saw to that personally, as I recall." Marc's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "A regrettable necessity after their betrayal." "Is that what they're calling it these days?" Luna Mara's voice cut through the tension, cool and precise as a blade. She entered from a side door, her silver-streaked hair catching the light. "Fascinating how history rewrites itself."

I say. “You’re always sorry,” he says. His eyes glaze over, and he goes quiet. “They found Marjory,” he says after a few minutes. “They did? So Deimos is okay? He’s safe?” I ask, feeling the dread and fear lift a little. “No. He wasn’t with her. Marjory is dead.” A crushing sorrow breaks open inside me. “Oh, God. How?” “Wolfsbane, like the others.” “So the pack took him? They used Wolfsbane against the unfortunates.”

He knelt down on the ground and touched the dried blood. "I am here, my friend. I will find you." He said and stood up again. "Where can I find Marlena? I can still sense her curse on you." He asked me. I gave him a confused look. "Marlena… where can I find her?" He repeated his question. He looked pissed, so I thought it's better to answer him. "You can't, she is dead. Lucas killed her." I replied and he shook his head. "Lucas can not kill Marlena. She is alive and I can smell her all over the place." Ethan replied with a smirk.