Marcus Deadly Class Novels & Stories

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

I followed him down, catching him on the sidewalk as he fumbled with a lighter. “Those will rot your lungs before a silver blade touches you,” I noted. “Thanks for the tip,” Marcus snapped, taking a long, shaking drag. “But Adrian will probably rip my throat out before the cancer gets a chance.” We sat on the bench, watching the traffic crawl through the rain-slicked streets. Marcus was seething. I didn't blame him. Adrian was my polar opposite—a tattooed, edgy disaster in black leather, while I stood there looking like a poster for the High Council’s elite. We were born to clash.

Just tactical gear and dead eyes, nothing like the boy Cedric once loved from across a high school cafeteria. “Hello, Cedric,” Marcus said softly. “Surprise. I’m not the good guy either.” He fired once. The shot hit Dante in the shoulder, non-lethal, but enough to drop him to one knee with a grunt. Then Marcus turned the gun on falcone. “You took everything from me,” Marcus said, voice hollow. “My father’s reputation. My career. My partner. And now…” He glanced at Cedric, eyes burning with something broken and terrifying.

"We need a plan, Daxon. Heriberto....or whatever he is now.....is going to converge. He will eat the ley lines first. Then the Covens. Then us." "I said shut up!" I punched the wall. Plaster cracked. Pain shot up my arm, grounding me. "My brother is dying in there. I don't care about the ley lines." Marcus turned to me. His eyes were cold, ancient. "Then you are not an Alpha," he said. "You are a mourner. And mourners get buried with the dead." He pushed off the wall. "There is a way to save him," Marcus said. I froze. "What?"

"Someone must remove the device or take him where the explosion won't kill anyone." Marcus grabbed Adrian's frozen body and ran toward the forest again, but the device detonated forty yards from the headquarters, killing Marcus and Adrian instantly. The explosion shattered complex windows and injured dozens of wolves with debris and shockwaves. "Marcus is dead," Dante said over the emergency channel from Blackwood territory, where he was remotely monitoring the situation. "He died saving the headquarters from an explosion that killed Adrian." Marcus was Elena's first real pack ally and a true friend through everything they'd survived. Losing him felt like losing family.

I said, twisting to look at all of them. "Not you, what you present to the public. Eve. She was onto us before she died" "You mean before she was killed" I accused him, spitting in his face. One of the guys slapped me and Marcus held up a hand for him to stop and he wiped the spittle from his face. "Yes it later became necessary to kill her" He said, without feeling any remorse. I realized now how much dangerous Marcus was compared to Wesley. He viewed people as expandable pawns that he could sacrifice at any time.

“Sorry, but I just want to focus on paying off my husband’s debts and raising my son.” Mrs. Keeley patted my shoulder in exasperation. “I know you had a good relationship with Nathan, but the dead can’t come back to life! Nathan’s company was his premarital property. He’s gone now, and his debts are nullified upon his death. You don’t have to deal with his mess! “For a woman, the most important thing is finding a decent man to marry. While you’re still young, you should act fast! The older you get, the harder it will be to find someone.”

"This works. You get Damon. I distract Silas. The strike team takes out their leadership before the army can mobilize. It's clean." "Nothing about this is clean." "No. But it's necessary." A knock at the door interrupted us. Darius entered without waiting for permission, his expression urgent. "We have a problem," he said. Of course we did. Because nothing could ever be simple. "What kind of problem?" Caelan asked. "Marcus is dead." The words hit like a physical blow. "What?" "Found in his cell an hour ago. Throat slit. Clean kill." Darius's voice was tight. "Someone got to him before he could tell us anything else about Damon or Silas's plans."

I couldn't—i just couldn't do that to her. Then the phone rang. Marco's name flashed across the screen. I swiped to answer. “This better be important.” “Boss.” Marco's voice was tight. “We have a problem. Marcus is dead.” I stilled. “What?” “Our men found him in an alley near the docks. Two bullets to the back of the head. It was a clean job.” My fingers tightened around the phone. Marcus—the weasel who'd been snapping photos of Lena for Evelyn. “When did you find out?”

Marcus Hale was standing in Dominic Cross’s living room with a dead man’s switch in his hand and nothing left to lose.He looked wrong. Not the Marcus from the restaurant smooth, rehearsed, a man who wore charm like cologne. Not the Marcus from the underground club broken, desperate, watching his world rearrange. This Marcus was something else entirely. His suit was torn at the shoulder. His forehead was bleeding from a cut that had dried into a dark line down his temple. His eyes were too wide and too bright and moving too fast, jumping between Dominic and Sophia and the armed men behind him like a man counting the seconds until something exploded.Because something would explode. The device