Novel & Cerita Marcus Blackwood

And realistically, I needed help. I scrolled through old contacts until I found the name I was looking for. Marcus Webb. College roommate. Former Army Ranger. The kind of friend who’d helped me through my father's death, who’d stood up at my first wedding, who I’d lost touch with when I became consumed by Blackwood Industries. The kind of friend who’d once told me: "If you ever need anything—and I mean anything—you call." I called. Four rings. "Yeah?" "Marcus. It's Adrian Blackwood."

Sell me to the highest bidder, then sell me again when he needed more money. "The Blackwood boys are probably tearing apart the forest looking for you right now," Marcus said, setting the contract aside. "They'll never think to look here. By the time they figure it out, it'll be too late." "Too late for what?" Marcus picked up the syringe again, holding it up to the light. The green liquid seemed to glow. "You see, Maya, the Blackwoods want a Luna. A mate. Someone to stand beside them and look pretty and give them strong pups." He walked closer, and I pressed myself back against the bed, trying to get away. "But I have very different plans for you."

Standing right in front of me was Adrian Blackwood, the man who murdered Marcus. The memory hit me like a physical blow, dragging me back to that rainy night three years ago. It was my sixteenth birthday. Marcus—my childhood sweetheart, my first everything—had taken me out. He was eighteen, goofy, and so incredibly lively. He’d saved up for months to take me to that fancy restaurant outside the pack territory. On the way back, the sky had opened up. The rain was blurring the windshield when the car suddenly lurched. A flat tire.

“He doesn’t let people in. Not really. And the ones he does let close? He protects them. Fiercely. Sometimes recklessly.” The words sent a strange shiver through her. She wanted to ask more, to pry into what Marcus really meant. But before she could, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting into something unreadable. “I’ll leave you to your coffee, Ms. Adams.” He stood, straightened his jacket. “But take it from someone who’s known him a long time: Damien Blackwood isn’t the danger. The danger is what happens if you convince yourself you can resist him forever.”

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.

Victoria was marrying Damien Blackwood. Even just thinking the name did something strange. Damien Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Empire, one of the most powerful companies in the country. Thirty years old. Built like someone had designed him specifically to stand at the top of things and never come down. I had seen his photographs in newspapers and on business pages, always in a dark suit, always with that expression like he was already three steps ahead of whatever room he was in. He did not look like a warm person. But Victoria didn’t need warm. Victoria needed powerful. She needed the kind of man whose name opened doors and Damien Blackwood’s name didn’t just open doors. It built them.

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."

< I call him using the pack link, one of the perks of being a werewolf is we have the ability to talk to each member of the pack through our minds. >Promise me you're not gonna do anything to my mate, Michael.< Maddox replied to me via our pack link. I can't help but grimace upon hearing what he just said. I can't blame him though for thinking that I'm planning something bad towards his mate. He knows how much I hate rogues and I would attack every rogue that comes my way with no interrogation. But I am not heartless as everyone thinks, I will never do something stupid to his mate, I mean I'll try to be in my best behavior and I will not attack his rogue mate as long as I am not being provok

"I told you, Marcus. I don't do field work in that region. Send Miller." "But he’s desperate now," Marcus noted. "He’s sent fourteen formal requests for a consultation in the last forty-eight hours. He’s offering a blank check." "I don't want his fucking money." I turned my gaze back to the window. I didn't want anything from him. For five years, I had successfully scrubbed the name 'Blackwood' from my vocabulary. I had built a life in the medical world, rising through the ranks of the research facility until I became the only person capable of stabilizing the genetic fallout caused by fucking Adrian.

Then I hear someone whisper from behind, “She’s sitting next to him.” Another person gasps softly and my heartbeat picks up. What’s going on? I glance sideways again...and that’s when I notice it. The tattoos peeking from under his long sleeves and wrapping around his wrist like dark vines colorfully and dangerously. My breath catches. Wait. No. It can’t be but the more I look, the more certain I am. The hair.. the eyes and the tattoos. It’s him! It's Ryan fucking Blackwood!