Marco X Tom Comic Novels & Stories

Max grumbled. “Are you in that big of hurry to die?” Marco returned the smirk as he circled his prey. “You aren’t wolf enough to kill me.” Max taunted. “Actually, YOU aren’t wolf enough.” Marco allowed Jax to surface and joined with him. Marco’s hand shifted into a claw, and he swiped at Max’s chest cutting into his flesh from his left shoulder down across to his right pelvis. “Did you think you really you were going to get away with taking the most important treasure in my life!” Marco growled slashing again, making contact with Max making him hiss again as his blood flowed from his chest.

"Tommy at school said his grandma makes the best cookies. But I told him your cookies are better." "That was sweet of you." "They are better. You put extra chocolate chips." "That's our secret." Marco grinned. "I won't tell Tommy." Bath time followed dinner. Marco protesting as always. Claiming he wasn't dirty despite evidence to the contrary. "The frog touched me," he argued. "Frogs are clean." "Frogs live in mud," Mateo countered. "Clean mud." "No such thing." "There is too!" Eventually Marco was bathed and in pajamas. His room decorated with dinosaurs and spaceships. Books everywhere. The kid loved stories.

I asked, reaching in to grab a few ripe tomatoes. Marco didn’t look at me. “Just the ones who offer it with a side of ‘I wanna fuck your girl.’” His voice was even, but tight. I laughed, low and teasing. “You’re dramatic.” He turned the water off and grabbed the bread we picked up, slicing into it. “Nah. I’m honest.”

Tom stood up and took Marco's hand. "Hey ... Hey ... Let me go! Let me go!" Marco continued to rebel, but Tom didn't care at all and kept taking him out of the room. Passed through several hallways until he arrived at a room with iron bars. Enter Marco into one of the rooms that already contain three prisoners. Alright. Looks like they'll have various bedrooms for the new occupants tonight. "Hey! ... Hey!"

The other wore a long scar from jaw to collarbone. “You made this easy,” Marco said. “Brave is just another word for predictable.” “Tell me why he loves you,” he said. “Tell me why he keeps bleeding for a woman who burns his house to feel warm.” I looked away, ignoring him. Marco flicked the knife against Tony’s rope. Not a cut. Just a sound. Tony did not flinch. Marco nodded to the tattooed man. The punch that followed drove breath from Tony’s lungs. He coughed, and a red mist dotted his shirt.

“Shhh Marco hushed, raising his brows. “Do you realize you're in a public space?” Tomasso raised his brows back at him. “And who gives a fuck?” He asked a rhetorical question accompained with a playful dismissive flick of his wrist. “Relax old man. You're too stiff sometimes.” “Shut up.” Marco replied and then looked at with an apologetic smile. “He can be a handful at times.” “Don't worry I'm coping around him well,” I replied. For some reasons, I felt like Marco was trying to stifle his own personality because of professionalism and he was trying to extend that to Tomasso who didn't care about it.

Marco was crossing all the borders and walls around her, he was starting to form a place for himself in her heart without realising it. She finally allowed sleep to take her away for the night. Marco placed the bottle back on his lips and gulped more of the drink then placed it back on the counter, he continued to go through the papers; signing a few and ignoring the others. He stared at his laptop as he got a new email but it had attachments to it, he stared at it. He never received such emails, opening it, the shock almost sent him falling off the stool. "Shit, Shit " he cursed pulling on his hair but nothing seemed to change, they were like twenty photos of Adriana.

Tommy let out a low whistle. “If Nico is behind this…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. Marco stood up and walked slowly toward the large map hanging on the wall. He studied it quietly for a moment before speaking. “Even if Nico is involved, he’s not stupid,” Marco said. “He wouldn’t leave tracks.” “He hasn’t,” I replied. Marco turned back toward us. “No phone calls. No ransom. No threats.” Tommy sighed. “So we’re hunting a ghost.” I rubbed my temples.

Heavy blinds cut the daylight into stripes across his desk, like a prison for secrets. The moment we walked in, Marco sprang from behind that mountain of oak. His grin was wide, arms open, a predator disguised as a jovial host. “Ahh, Rowan, my friend!” He wrapped me in a hug before I could sidestep it, the kind of hug that pressed too long, too close, and reminded me why I never liked these reunions. Marco wasn’t a man; he was a spider who always remembered whose web you’d brushed against. “Marco”, I muttered, stiff as stone when he finally released me.

Unfortunately, Xavier chose that exact moment to glance over at us from across the rooftop. His expression remained calm and controlled. But his eyes? Those cold blue eyes practically screamed murder. A shiver crawled down my spine and Marco seemed to notice it too because he chuckled softly into his wine glass. “Careful, Bella. I think your mafia lord is deciding whether to kill me or not.” “That sounds dramatic,” I replied, taking a sip from my wine glass. “Trust me, Italian men are dramatic,” Marco murmured and I snorted before I could stop myself. That seemed to be the last straw for Xavier because the next second he came towards us and the next thing I knew he was dragging me out of the