Novel & Cerita Marcus Black

The old man’s face turned gray, his lips growing bluer by the second. Marcus ran to his sire, and yanked him out of his friend’s clutches. Blackstone fell, cradling his left arm. His gaze met his son’s, eyes wide with fright. Slowly, the man’s breaths weakened and he sagged against the floor. Marcus lifted him, studying him closely. Death filled his eyes, just as had happened when Matthew’s life slipped away.

"Of course, Mac. Later, we'll deal with the bastard together." Mac nodded once before turning away, while Ethan's eyes darkened with murderous intent. ****😔😔****

Marcellus regarded his brother with a frown, "You seem to despise him." "Oh, I sure as hell do. And make no mistake, the next time I lay my eyes on him I will kill him. ; ★★★★ Marcellus walked to his car at the other end of the street after departing from his rest when a lady in black biker jacket and boots approached him. Her lips were painted black, wild shade of pink hairs cascaded down her head she spotted several piercings. "Marcellus!" She hollered at him. "Who would you be?"

He watched the chaos unfold, a mix of concern and calculation on his face. "Elizabeth, you've made this personal," he muttered, dialing a number. The call connected, and a voice answered, "Yes, Marcus?" "Plan B, activate. Ijeoma's survived. We'll need to adjust." The voice on the other end was calm, "Understood. What's the play?" Marcus's gaze hardened, "Get the team ready. We'll take care of Elizabeth. And find out who leaked the info." The line went dead. Marcus disappeared into the night, leaving behind a trail of questions.

Against the back of the wall stood a huge choir. Suddenly, a young man, maybe 20, with long, flowing black hair, dressed in a tux, strutted proudly onto the stage. He cut right through the aisle of performers, heading for the center. As he did, the entire audience rose to its feet and applauded. “Who’s he?” I asked. He reached the center and bowed repeatedly, smiling. Even from up here, I could see that he was startlingly attractive. “Sergei Rakov,” Jonah answered. “He’s one of the best vocalists in the world.”

Just stop being a douchebag and wait for me! My pleas just bounced off him, leaving me helpless like a pig on a stake. ''Damian!'' I barked. He instantly froze. I breathe a sigh of relief. Finally! ''Don't call me Damian, its Marcelis to you!'' Now he doesn't even want me to call him by his own name. I mean..who does that? What have I ever done to him? ''Mar....ce.....liiiss?'' I crooked letting his name roll smoothly over my tongue, trying so hard to feel the taste of his name against my lips. And I must say, his name really tasted bitter, the worst name I've ever heard in my life.

“I got what you asked for, but it’s worse than we thought.” She dropped the file on my table. I set the coffee down, suddenly wishing it was stronger. “Spit it out.” She took a breath. “Marcus Blackwell’s not just poking around Dacre’s empire. He’s built a net. Shell companies, cutouts, some of his people are fronting as independent investors. He’s been funneling pressure through anyone he can get near Dacre. And… he’s using you.” My chest went cold. “Using me how?”

MARCUS HALE DEAD — QUESTIONS REMAIN The public would move on. But consequences wouldn’t. Because somewhere in the fallout— Jonathan Blackwood was preparing his final move. And this time, he wouldn’t hide behind proxies.

Marcus had always known his place in the world. It was a simple, solid one: loyal guard, reliable friend, the man who stood between danger and the people he cared about. He had never needed more than that. Never asked for more. But now, watching Liviana—*his* Liviana—move through the Blackwood penthouse with the effortless grace of someone who belonged there, something in his chest twisted uncomfortably, like a knot pulling tighter with every passing day. She was a Blackwood heiress now. Blood. Family. The sister Adrian had mourned for decades, the missing piece of a powerful legacy. And Marcus was still just... Marcus. The man who had carried her out of that blood-stained warehouse, who had

"I must ask you to return the card to the portfolio and step away from the desk." "You know exactly who this is," I murmured, searching the blank stone of his expression for any sliver of a crack. "Killian has gone to meet them, hasn't he? That is the matter he had to resolve in the city." Marcus remained completely silent, his posture a rigid wall of composure. He didn't blink. He didn't look away. "Mr. Blackwood will address his personal calendar upon his return," Marcus said flatly, taking a slow, deliberate step back toward the threshold. "If you require anything further for your quarters, the interior detail is at your disposal."