Marcus Deadly Class Novels & Stories

Your family. My stomach dropped. Which one? Marcus’s eyes moved toward the estate. All of them. Then a gunshot exploded. Marcus jerked backward. I screamed. Adrian pulled me down. Another shot struck the stone wall. Security rushed forward. Marcus lay on the ground. Blood spread across his coat. Adrian crawled toward him. Stay with me. Marcus grabbed his jacket. The blue key. Elena has to find— His hand went limp. I stared at him. Adrian checked his pulse. Nothing. My chest tightened. Marcus was dead.

EMILIA POV Twenty-five years. That was the exact duration of time Marcus Moretti had been classified as deceased. According to every official municipal record, every sealed family ledger, and every foundational narrative whispered in the underworld, he was dead. I sat at the metal table in the dim, concrete undercroft of St. Augustine’s Church, watching the flickering amber glow of the votive candles throw jagged shadows against the brick walls. Spread before Axel and me were the contents of the physical asset file Ricci’s intelligence network had frantically compiled over the last forty minutes. Facial recognition cross-matches. Deep-web financial tracing. Highly encrypted black-market oper

Continuous Torture. “No, i…. I...i don't want to die.” i managed to say, still struggling to catch my breath. “Good, because i only grant death to people who don't want to live anymore.” he said grabbing my neck. “Alpha Marcus, she is here. Ella is here?” I didn't recognize the voice but he immediately let go of his grip on my neck. Any minute longer and i think i would have died.

Marcus held the key as if it were a child. Not tenderly. Precisely. The way a man held a thing that only worked if nobody else understood it. The uplink room was already a ruin around him: grey screens, opened metal, the operator still on the floor, the air tasting of dust and burnt plastic. Outside, the dock kept arguing with itself. In here the argument was older. “There is a fragment,” Marcus said. “A dead-man’s switch. I turn it, a sliver of the net comes back. Long enough to speak. Long enough to move money that is not quite dead. Long enough to remind three families that forgetting you will cost them.”

Elena said sharply. Marcus shrugged. “I rested.” “You were unconscious.” “Same thing.” He moved toward the table slowly but stubbornly. His eyes scanned the screens. Five profiles, five enemies. Marcus exhaled through his nose. “Well,” he said. “That’s a problem.” I leaned back in my chair. “Understatement.” Marcus pointed toward the images. “So that’s the council.” “Yes.” “And we’re planning to kill them.” Damian answered calmly. “Yes.” Marcus gave a tired nod. “Good.”

I really didn’t get to know why he didn’t kill me if he was sent to do so. “Stay down,” Marcus commanded, his voice a low vibration that managed to cut through the screeching noise. The first flash-bang shattered the yellowed curtains and the glass beneath them. The room exploded in white light and a roar that knocked the air out of my lungs. Through the smoke, I saw the silhouettes—black tactical gear, silver-tipped rifles, the cold precision of men who got paid to kill things like me. Marcus moved. He didn't just fight; he was a goddamn meat grinder. He vaulted over the bed, his knife catching the strobe-light flashes. I heard the wet sound of steel meeting throat, the heavy grunt of a man

One month after… … Marcus died due to the Pandemic that swept the world. ♦ ♦ ♦ "Raise your head and look at me" Zark demanded, before him, was an illusory reflection of his old self. Marcel was reflecting the same ideals as his. Marcel's gaze lifted from his position on the ground and he looked directly at Zark, which he saw petrified. Pale skin like a corpse, empty eyes submerged in a perpetual darkness in which he had a single purple point, a black ring which radiated the purest of light was on his head.

"Teams of two. Clear each building systematically. If you find anything Class C or above, signal immediately and retreat. We're not equipped for threats above your pay grade." He paired me with a Hunter named Marcus. I almost laughed at the cosmic joke of it. Marcus. My dead fiancé's name. The man whose face I couldn't remember anymore. This Marcus was nothing like him. He was older, maybe forty, with scars across his forearms and the dead-eyed look of someone who'd been hunting for years. He didn't introduce himself. Just nodded and headed into the fog. I followed. We cleared three buildings without incident. Empty rooms, collapsed floors, the occasional rat scurrying through debris. My war

"The damage from containing her entity should have kept you unconscious for days." "Should have. Would have. Could have." Drake stalked forward, his presence radiating lethal intent. "But you forgot something crucial, Marcus. I have died and returned more times than you can count. Pain is just information now. Death is just a transition. And you—" his smile turned savage, "—you are just a dead man who has not stopped breathing yet." Marcus's dark magic flared defensively. "Brave words from a rogue playing at being important. You are nothing but—"

--------------------- VENOM EMPIRE That's where Marcus lives, alone to avoid suspicious eyes. He just returned home from the club with a girl by his side. Yeah, he's a typical playboy, fucking around however he wants and getting any woman with a snap of his fingers due to his handsome face and perfect body with the money he's flowing in. Marcus and the girl walk into the guest room and, before the girl even realizes it, he's already buried himself inside her, banging her like there's no tomorrow.