Marco Bloodline Novels & Stories

She looked at Marco for a long moment with the expression that only grandmothers had, the particular expression of someone who was seeing something that connected the past to the future in a single face. "May I," she said. "Yes," Elara said. Elena reached into the cradle with hands that were steady and certain and lifted Marco with the ease of someone who had done this before, who had held Darius this way once and who understood exactly what she was holding. Marco made a small sound and then settled. Elena looked at him. "He has his father's jaw," she said. "Yes," Elara said. "And something else," Elena said. "Something that is not Darius and not the Moretti line." She looked at Elara. "Some

“Mio angelo, tesoro, so che la tua testa è piena di domande in questo momento,(My angel, treasure, I know you have many questions on your mind now) but I will allow you time to rest and think about it. I will explain everything to you later.” Isabella turned around and left the room, leaving Alessa alone with her racing mind. ******** Marco had sent a text across to his father as he waited, detailing the incident with Rafael and explained that he wanted to execute him respectfully. Marco was deep in thought when his father entered the grand study. He didn’t notice his presence at first until the old man dropped a dusty bottle of Sangue Vecchio onto the mahogany desk with a thud that echoed l

I clenched my jaw, the pressure building. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice but not his venom. "What was it this time? The stable boy? Or was it the pianist? I lose track. Your son has such a delicate taste." He smirked, eyes gleaming. "And you, you kept quiet. All this time. So the world wouldn’t see the crack in your bloodline." I stood now, slowly. Every muscle in my body was tight. "Enough," I said, But Marco wasn’t done. He stepped back just slightly, knowing he’d touched a nerve.

"Your scent, once he really paid attention, carries markers unique to that bloodline. He's been researching quietly, trying to understand how you survived, who hid you." "And Marty?" "We think he suspects. That's why he's been so..." She gestured vaguely. "Intense. The Moonblood line wasn't just powerful. They were kingmakers. Whoever mates with the last heir would have a claim to unite multiple packs under one rule." The pregnancy. The baby growing inside me. Not just Marty's child, but the continuation of a bloodline someone had tried to erase. No wonder Marcus had gone pale when I'd told him. Jake moved from the couch, sat beside me on the floor. Not touching, just present. "We'll protect

“You think she believes it? “She doesn’t need to believe it,” I reply. “She just needs us to.” Mateo walks in then, holding a tablet. “I found something. The inscription—‘When blood betrays blood’—it’s not new. It’s from the Codex Sangue. A prophecy written by the Vatican centuries ago. It warns of a bloodline cursed by its own union.” I meet his eyes. “Whose bloodline?” He hesitates. “The Moretti lineage.”

If anything, it makes it stronger. I know Marco is in town. I felt it before anyone even confirmed it. There is a shift in the air when someone like him is close, a sense of wrongness that seeps into everything. Marco has always believed that he deserves my grandfather's belongings. The houses, the money, the influence, everything my grandfather built with his own hands. Marco believes it should all belong to him, simply because he shares the same bloodline. He has never accepted that my grandfather chose differently.

The real danger is the children of Venanzio… the direct bloodline. Carlo Marchetti — the eldest, son of the first wife. His strong ideals and sense of justice have always prevented him from following his father's footsteps. Therefore, upon reaching the majority, he distanced himself from the family to the point of requesting to be excluded from the records. He was willing to give up noble blood and heritage, but Venanzio wouldn't allow it. Carlo married Lucia, who also took her husband's surname. They have two children: Thomas Marchetti and Elisa Marchetti, the last girl with a direct lineage.

“Mazzo Marino no longer has access to any of our systems, accounts, or safehouses. Pull every authorization tied to him or his father’s name. The Marino line ends tonight.” Marco was already typing it into his phone, dispatching the order to their financial and security networks. “Done,” he said. “His people?” she asked. “We’ll handle them quietly,” Vince replied. “Most of them only stayed because of the deal with your father. Once they realize who’s actually holding the throne…” “They’ll switch sides,” she finished. “They’ll kneel,” he corrected. Sasha nodded once. “Good.” For a moment, there was nothing left to say. Only the low hum of machinery coming back online as the estate’s power sys

Marcus sat first, leaning back comfortably as if he had been invited. “I’ll get straight to the point,” he said. “That would be refreshing,” Ava replied. “The Ashmoon bloodline returning changes things.” “Yes,” she said. “It does.” “You might not realize how much.” “Then explain it.” Marcus studied her for a moment. “Your family didn’t just hold power,” he said. “They balanced it.” Ava leaned forward slightly. “Balanced what?” “The packs.” Luca frowned slightly. “That’s not exactly common knowledge.”

He saw me bleeding, leaning against the railing of his plane, looking like a heap of discarded meat, and he actually laughed. "Look at you, Reaper!" Marcus shouted, his voice barely carrying over the whining scream of the Gulfstream's engines. "You look like something a dog gave up on! You really thought you could just walk onto my tarmac and take what belongs to me?" "She doesn't belong to you, Marcus," I rasped, the effort of shouting making the internal stitches weep fresh blood against my shirt. "She never did." "She's a Castellano! And that baby? That baby is the future of my bloodline, not your shitty Romano legacy!" Marcus yelled, his thumb hovering over the red button.