Marcus Blackwood Novels & Stories

he asks shaking his head. “Yeah, I found some too.” “Daniel said the police will be here soon.” He holds on to me tighter. I take Benny back up to Lucy, who to my amazement is still asleep. By the time I get back downstairs, the police have arrived. “Constable Cody Harris.” the young officer says as I walk in the door. “Mrs Blackwood tells me you know the man your mother saw.” “Yes, it’s the man the police are currently hunting down. Dean Bertrand.” he looks at me with young wide eyes and notes it down. Oh great. Amateurs.

She could hear Marcus and Victor in the kitchen, their voices low but excited. “You think he’ll pay?” Marcus asked, the greed thick in his tone. Victor laughed, a wet, ugly sound. “Of course he’ll pay. That rich prick thinks he owns her. He’ll empty his accounts if we threaten to put a bullet in her pretty little head. We start at ten million. Cash. Untraceable.” Marcus whistled. “Ten million? You think he’s got that kind of liquid?” “He’s got way more than that,” Victor replied. “I did my research. Blackwood’s got offshore shit, shell companies, the works. We squeeze him right and we walk away set for life. Then we disappear. Maybe head down south.”

No friends, no family, no loose ends. Through the peephole: two men in tailored suits, olive skin, gold chains glinting under collars. Sicilian accents when they spoke thick, threatening. “Open up, Hale. Or we come in anyway.” Marcus unlocked the door, hand slipping to the knife taped under the entry table. “Wrong apartment.” The taller one bald, built like a vault shoved past. “No mistake. You’re Marcus Blackwood. And you owe the Rossi family a debt.”

Jason said again. Grace looked up this time, She knitted her brow at him, She wondered Deep within her why Jason seemed so chatty about the topic, It was something that she couldn’t understand. He seemed to know more and wanted her to know more as well, She didn’t ask further, She played it as a common coincidence. “I do not understand the rumours you speak of, Please Enlighten me”. Grace said sitting up. “Mr Black is a well known player”. A familiar voice said interrupting them, Grace and Jason turned to see the person, only to be met with a smirking Gerard and a very exhausted and half awake Louisa.

Marcus stood up, towering over the microphones, looking down at the chaotic sea of flashing cameras. "As of this moment, I am resigning from my position as General Manager of London United," Marcus announced, his voice steady, entirely devoid of regret. "I have already delivered the full, unredacted corporate files, tax records, and extortion logs to the Metropolitan Police Commercial Fraud division and the Football Association's integrity committee. Furthermore, I am personally filing a multi-million-pound civil suit against Reggie Thorne for the wrongful death of Dr. Arthur Cross."

“Because your father was smarter than everyone who hunted him." ADRIAN Across the city, Adrian couldn't take his eyes off the older Blackwood. “You said Marcus." "What about him?" "You asked who introduced him to me." "Yes." "I honestly don't remember." Blackwood studied him. “You do." "I don't." "You've simply forgotten." "I would remember introducing someone like Marcus." "No." The older man smiled. “You wouldn't." "Why?" "Because you never met Marcus first." Adrian frowned. “What are you talking about?"

“Why not? They’re true.” Before she could answer, the music faded and applause rippled as the song ended. Marcus released her but caught her hand again, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “Just remember,” he murmured, “you deserve to be wanted openly…not in glances from across the room.” Aria’s breath hitched. And that’s when she felt it. The air shifted. Sharp. Icy. Damian Blackwood stepped into their space with the precision of a blade. Marcus’s smile widened. “Ah. The king himself.”

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.”

But he won’t move. He’s too big. He’s too strong. And I’ve only just met my wolf. I can’t control her at all. A whimper escapes me, my eyes locking on those vibrant blue ones, so familiar in his wolfish features. My mother’s screams begin to fade. The world is darkening. My life… is over. I try one last time to swipe my paw at Marcus , but it’s too late. My limbs no longer work, my body fully subdued beneath his growling form.

I mean, the way his eyes flick around, you can tell, he’d rather be fighting ogres in the mud than wading through this mess of etiquette and fake smiles. Lyra leans back just enough for Marcus to catch her words, voice barely above a whisper. “Ambassador Blackwood from the North goes first. You step up, rattle off my list of titles, then back off exactly three paces. Not two. Not four. Three. They’ll count.” She doesn’t even bother to look at him. The confidence? Unshakable.