Marco X Tom Comic Novels & Stories

Never had he met someone as bold as this one. Marco’s eyebrows lifted when he widely grinned. “What for? If I destroy your face, my wife wouldn’t like you all the more. Drink up.” JUST a few minutes passed, Tan was down on the table. Marco drank his remaining whiskey while shaking his head. He stood and got his wallet from his jean back pocket. He left money on the table and tried to wake Tan up. But he just moaned. He breathed deeply. He assisted Tan to stand and walked until they were out of the bar.

With a final tap, a soft hum whispered through the room—the sound of bulletproof panels sliding into place behind the bookshelves, barely seen but very much present. “Ah, the sweet serenade of carbon fiber composites,” Tom thought wryly, “Music to my ears and a real party pooper for stupid bullets.” He glanced around, noting the position of each henchman with the same ease as if he were mentally bookmarking their profiles on MafiaMatch.com. “Swipe left, swipe right—nope, not a single dateable quality unless you’re into guys who communicate in grunts.” “Are we done with this circus, Tomas?” Grossman interrupted him, trying to reclaim the stage as his voice cut through the tension.

I can be more gentle, more considerate than him! With a calm stare, I looked Tommaso straight in the eyes and uttered, "He looks like Marco."

Nyx and her twin, went home first to visit their parents and drop off some gifts. I gave Thomas and the men a small tip for keeping the club running well. They’d done a great job. Then Marco and I settled in my lounge to relax. The moment we sat, I noticed something off about him. Marco looked excited, though he tried to hide it. He kept smiling for no reason, tapping his glass against the table. I leaned back, watching him pour himself a drink. “You’re in a damn good mood,” I said, lifting a brow. “Mind telling me why?”

Xander shouted out, his hand hovering near the hidden security system behind the frame. "It's a friend," replied a familiar voice. Xander hesitated before opening the door gingerly. Marco, an old ally from their concealing days, was standing there. His arrival sent a tremor of bewilderment throughout the room. "Marco?" Xander enquired, standing aside to allow him in. "I'm sorry to barge in like this," Marco murmured, his face stern. "But I have information you need to hear." The family gathered around Marco as he began to talk.

“You can fuck. You can cook. You can shoot. Triple threat.” “Not if you’re the one who pissed me off. I might shoot you then cook you.” He grinned. “If you fucked me first, I probably wouldn’t mind.” The more I got to know Cato Marino, the more I liked him. He was cold and empty when I first met him, just a hollow shell with few desires. But now he was a real man, one with confidence and a sense of humor. He even smiled once in a while. It was a much better version than the one I’d originally met. “So, no more barging into my house, alright?”

The man snickered. I ground my teeth as I looked at him with pure hatred, which is when I noticed something. They didn't just have tattoos, but rather one specific one stood out. They all had a matching cobra tattoo. "You're from the Cobras." I remarked, verbalizing my findings. "Which would make your boss Blaze Maddox." "What makes you think I'm not Blaze?" The man asks.

Marco said, circling the table as he assessed my position. He stopped beside me. “How do you know that?” I shot back, skeptical. For all I knew, he was just trying to throw me off so I’d fail miserably. Since when did the person teaching the game also compete against you? “You weren’t even holding the damn stick properly,” Marco said, chuckling at my attempt. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. Black ink trailed down his arm. It was part of a tattoo. From what I could see, it looked like a blade, but I couldn’t be sure until I saw the whole design.

Some would never return to the field again. Marco was propped up against a pillow, his arm in a sling, his usual grin dimmed but not extinguished. “You should see the other guy,” Marco joked weakly as Damian approached. Damian smirked despite himself. “The other guy’s dead, Marco.” “Then I win.” They shared a quiet laugh, one that masked the exhaustion in both their eyes. Damian clasped Marco’s good shoulder. “You held the line when no one else could. You gave me time to finish it.”

The Omertà File is the only weapon the Maranos still cling to, because their empire has been crumbling ever since their father’s death. I leaned back again, relaxed, like a king on his throne. He began smoothing his jacket like he'd still somehow won this meeting. "This has been... enlightening, Xavier."I nodded once, calm and unbothered. "Indeed." Marco left without another word. I sat back, tapping my fingers slowly against the desk. The next move was clear. Find the rat. Cut the cancer out before it spreads. And when it’s done? There’ll be nothing left of Marco Marano but a memory.