Marcus Black Novels & Stories

That night, as Jason shut his eyes, he saw flashes of himself, filled with rage, standing over a man he had shot dead. Other images of five men flashed in, lying lifeless in different positions, at different locations. He felt relieved, breathing the metallic scent of their blood before walking out of there. He was dressed as Black Moon and the wind played with his black jacket which was as dark as a heart void of forgiveness. He opened his eyes, watching the ceiling. "I'm almost there, Rose." He smiled and averted his gaze at Stacy before laying a soft kiss on her cheeks.

Usually, I’m good at going from being myself to being the cold-hearted assassin everyone knows and fears, but this entire Grigoras mess has made me deviate from my normal routine in more ways than one and let’s be honest, Alec has definitely messed with my head and my vagina, though one I enjoyed more than the other. Right now I need to take the last few weeks and lock them away in the back of my mind and focus on being Blackheart. From the moment I step off this plane, I will be cold, emotionless, fearless, and capable of anything. Death is my bitch and she’s not coming for me this year.

BANG! Two precise shots—straight to the head. The attackers dropped, lifeless. Marcus gasped for air, his vision blurry from the blood loss. Then he saw him. A man standing in the shadows, dressed in a long black coat. As he stepped forward, the dim club lights illuminated his face. Marcus’ breath caught. "What the fuck…?" His mind raced as he recognized the man. Marvin. Or as the world once knew him—Cassandra’s father. Marcus tried to speak, but Marvin simply shook his head.

“Is this all because of this guy? You're going to call off the engagement for him?” Isadora’s patience snapped. “He’s not a nobody. He is Julian Blackwood!” she hissed, her voice slightly loud so that everyone can hear in the room. “Heir to the Blackwood Empire! And if you had any common sense, Marcus you’d be on your knees begging for forgiveness right now.” Marcus froze. The name hit him like a punch to the gut. “W-what?” His earlier arrogance vanished in an instant after hearing that the person he had been disrespecting all this time was none other than Julian Blackwood, heir to the blackwood empire.

“Janet, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” I asked, confused by his sudden change in mood. “My father will like you once he gets to know you. You’re strong, you’re a good man.” Marcus shook his head, stepping back from me. “You don’t understand. If your father knew who I was—” “What do you mean?” I interrupted, feeling a pit form in my stomach. “Who are you, Marcus?” He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground. “I’m from the Blackwood clan.”

"We need to leave for the Sanctum—" "We can't. Not yet." He pulled out his phone, showing me dozens of messages. "Three packs declared for Marcus overnight. They're claiming he survived, that he'll return with 'moon-corrupted' power." "That's impossible. We all saw him die." "Did we?" James's voice from the doorway. He looked exhausted, files spilling from his arms. "I've been researching all night. Marcus Blackthorne's body disappeared from the morgue. The guards remember nothing. And this morning, seven wolves reported the same dream, Marcus, wrapped in silver chains, promising power to those who freed him."

I took a slow sip of wine, letting the music drown out the noise in my head. For a moment, it worked. Until i heard a familiar voice from behind. Didn’t expect to see you somewhere like this Mr Vale. My spine stiffened instantly. No f**king way,slowly I turned. Marcus Blackwood stood beside me like he’d been there the whole night. His looking very handsome with his armless shirt and dark pants. That same calm, dangerous expression like the chaos of the club didn’t touch him at all. My pulse kicked up. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

This man who had spent a century managing and controlling and keeping people at precise distances, sitting at a kitchen table telling me to tell him what I needed with a directness that cost him nothing anymore because he had stopped spending effort on the architecture. "You," I said. "And Sera and Luca. Nothing that looks like a deployment." He nodded once. "And tell me about Marcus," I said. "How did the meeting go?" Something shifted in his expression. "Complicated," he said. "In ways that change some of what I thought I understood." I sat down across from him. "Tell me." He told me. Marcus Blackwind had come to the meeting not with aggression but with what

It rang four times. "This is Marcus Webb," said a voice on the other end. Not my Marcus a different one. A forensic document analyst I had used during a contested merger in 2019. The best in the Southeast. "Marcus," I said. "It's Ethan Blackwood. I need you." A pause. "What kind of trouble are you in?" "The kind that was designed to look exactly like my own fault," I said. Another pause, shorter. "I'll be there this afternoon."

Marcus laughed bitterly. “They’re blaming Adrian.” He turned the television off. The room went quiet again. Marcus walked toward the window carefully. Outside, the street looked empty. But he knew better. Both sides were looking for him. Adrian. And Richard Vaughn. Marcus whispered to himself. “Neither of you is getting what you want.” He opened a small metal briefcase on the table. Inside were documents. Bank accounts. Blackridge contracts. Evidence. Marcus smiled faintly. Because whoever found him first…