Marcus Baker Season 2 Novels & Stories

“Now. Take your things and leave. I don’t want to see you here again.” Marcus hesitated for a long moment, his face a mask of regret and calculation. He looked at Beverley, who was crying silently on the couch, then back at Bianca. Whatever he saw in her eyes, pure, unyielding resolve, finally made him move. He grabbed his jacket from the chair and walked toward the door, his shoulders slumped. The front door clicked open, then shut behind him with a finality that echoed through the house like a death knell. The silence that followed was absolute.

“You’re staying here.” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You’re not taking me in?” “No.” Jason’s tone was firm. “I need someone watching everything.” Marcus smirked slightly. “You just don’t want me stealing your spotlight.” Jason didn’t react. “Stay sharp.” Marcus gave a short nod. “Always.” The Becker estate loomed ahead of us. Large. Silent. Controlled. Lights glowing softly through tall windows. A place that looked perfect from the outside. And rotten at its core. Jason handed me a small comm device.

I was not thinking about the window table. At nine fifty-seven the bell above the door chimed. I was at the counter writing the day's specials. I finished the word — seasonal — and looked up. Marcus stood in the doorway. He was in a dark coat this time, properly dressed for December, and he looked the way he looked when he had made a decision and arrived at it without full comfort — resolved but not entirely easy about the resolution. He met my eyes across the bakery. "I know I said I wasn't coming back," he said.

Every window along the main street was dark except the bakery's, a single lamp left burning behind the counter out of habit, and I found myself, against every ounce of tactical training I possessed, thinking less about the threat we were meant to be watching for and more about how easily I could picture this same street ten years from now, Hazel taller, the bakery sign repainted, all of it simply, quietly ours. We walked the rest of the perimeter in companionable quiet, snow falling soft and steady around the streetlights, the whole town gone still and silver under it, chimneys breathing thin trails of smoke into a sky heavy with more snow still to come, streetlamps buzzing faintly overhead,

My fingers shook as I clicked the most recent one. A video popped up. There he was. Marcus Kane. My mom’s new husband. My stepdad. Forty-three years old, built like he lifted weights for a living, with that sharp jaw and dark eyes that always made me look away too fast. But in the video, he wasn’t wearing the expensive shirts and watches he wore around the house. He was naked, cock thick and hard in his fist, stroking slow while a woman moaned on her knees in front of him.

Trying not to look bitter. Despite everything, Marcus smiled. “So he had a good time, huh. His deepest wish granted.” The baker made a sound—not quite a scoff. “Foolish,” he muttered. “They’re from different worlds, those two.” Lucius nodded. “Well, what can we do? It’s what he wants.” One of the scarred men stood, walked to the door, checked the street, and locked it. The baker stepped out from behind the counter. Put down the cloth. His voice shifted.

Raven went out to instruct her maids to help her in preparing for their big day. ...... It's been a week since Becky encounters Marcus in a beast form. He disappeared. Even his office employees have no idea about him. Becky becomes alert with every news and updates about the city. She knows, Marcus will now attack Raven to take his revenge. She tried hard to find failed. This worries her more about him. His disappearance and silence is death alarm for his enemies. She has negative thoughts as if Marcus was killed in attacking the innocent souls or someone has killed him. She was clueless about his well-being but anxiously waiting for him to return. She was lost in her thoughts while working

“For now, but I have a feeling that’ll change when you reach your father’s age.” “Precisely. I told your father that he needed to cut back, and he told me, ‘Woman, let me die in peace.’ I have the loveliest eulogy prepared for you to read at his service, Jon. I included the story about how you and Marcus would play ball in the backyard.” “We never played ball.” “I know, Jon, but you must play it up for the mourners. They need to know that there was more to Marcus Winston Baker than deep pockets, good looks, and a big—”

" The bell above the bakery door chimes, and we both look up. The smile on Bailey's face fades instantly. Marcus, Talia’s ex- lover, is standing in the doorway. I have never met him personally but I do know him from an image bailey was cursing insistently the other night for being an asshole. He looks like shit. His hair is disheveled and he has dark circles under his eyes He is wearing jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt. For a CEO, this is not how I expected to see him look. One look at him and I can tell he is clearly not here for pastries. "We're closed," Bailey says, her voice immediately cold. "I know," Marcus says. "I'm looking for Talia. Is she here?" He continues to ask, as he hasn't read

He understood why. And the worst part? It was working. As the team started filing out, Jason walked past him again, shaking his head slightly. “You two are exhausting, you know that?” Ethan didn’t respond—he didn’t need to because his attention was already elsewhere. Marcus was across the court, grabbing his bag, moving like nothing had affected him at all as he walked to the showers. Like he hadn’t just flipped something between them completely. Ethan watched him for a second longer than necessary. Jaw tight.