Marcus Deadly Class Novels & Stories

The temperature in the bunker seemed to drop to absolute zero. I stared at the screen, my jaw clenching until my teeth ached. Marcus had been with Thorne Industries for ten years. He was a man I had trusted, a man I had given millions in stock options. And he had sold my life to Victoria Vance for a percentage of a dying syndicate. "He is dead," I growled, the raw, savage dominance of my bloodline taking over.

“And if I refuse?” Marcus’s expression hardened. “Then you die with them when we strike. We’ve developed a weapon that can kill any werewolf regardless of their power level or bloodline. Silver nitrate compound that attacks werewolf DNA at the cellular level. One shot, complete system shutdown within minutes. We’re ready to deploy it against every major pack territory simultaneously.” Hart felt sick. “You’re talking about genocide.” “I’m talking about survival,” Marcus said. “Humans versus monsters, Hart. You get to choose which side you’re on. You have three days to decide.”

Marcus was already there, his rifle slung over his shoulder, peering into the abyss with a look of grim desperation I’d never seen on his face. "I can't see them," Marcus grunted, his hand hovering over a flare. "The energy down there is still too high. My HUD is just showing static." "Move!" I barked, shoving past him. "They aren't dead," I said, my voice shaking with a mixture of fury and relief. I could feel it—a faint, rhythmic thrum in the air that matched the beat of Aella's heart. "The marks. They’re still active. If they were gone, the sky would have turned black. The Highland blood is still singing."

It wasn't the empty void of the curse he had felt earlier; it was the terrifying sensation of her life force rapidly destabilizing, burning away like paper in a furnace. Without a shred of hesitation, Marcus clamped his jaws shut, ending the second-in-command's life in a single click of his teeth. He shifted back into his human form mid-stride, entirely ignoring the blood dripping from the deep claw marks on his own chest. He turned his back on the retreating remnants of the enemy army and sprinted frantically toward the castle doors.

Power rolled off him in waves that made the air feel heavy. This was the Rex that legends were built on. The Alpha whose reputation made other packs whisper his name like a curse. The killer. Marcus barely had time to scream. Rex moved with impossible speed. One moment, ten feet away. The next, jaws locked around Marcus's throat, shaking him like a rag doll. Blood sprayed across the forest floor—hot and red and everywhere. I couldn't look away. Marcus's body hit the ground with a wet, final thud. His eyes were still open. Still wide with shock and terror. Still very, very dead.

Black liquid, blood, soaked the dirty carpet; some of them had splashed onto her face and her khaki coat. “He’s so hot, even in death,” Marc said from her side. His name was Marcus, but everyone called him Marc. “It’s an incubus. Of course, it’s good-looking. Stop talking like that about a dead body. Disgusting.” Danica shut him up. Her coat stripped off, she wiped the smelly blood off of her face with it.

Marcus said casually as two men dragged the body aside. “He’s weak.” Lance’s heart dropped. His blood ran completely cold. Marcus turned his back to them, then looked over his shoulder with a wolffish grin. “As for all of you…” He spread his arms wide. “Welcome to hell.”

“Give me another hour.” I poured myself a whiskey from the decanter on my desk, downing it in one burning gulp. The alcohol from earlier had worn off, replaced by cold clarity and simmering rage. “This doesn’t make sense,” I said, pouring another. “Melissa’s dead. Jason’s dead. Who else has a reason to want Elara gone?” “The Skulls?” “Marcus doesn’t work through brokers. He’s too arrogant for that. If he wanted Elara dead, he’d do it himself and make sure we knew it was him.”

“And when it’s over, Shadowveil will return Elena to me. This rotten world will finally be cleansed… and my mate will live again.” A chill swept through the courtyard. Every face drained of color. Marcus looked at Lara one final time. “You are everything I hate. The chosen one. The blessed one. The symbol of a broken world.” Dark symbols suddenly spread across his skin like cracks in reality. The platform trembled violently. The ground beneath the entire territory began to shake, a low rumble that vibrated up through my bones. And then Marcus smiled—that smile so terrifying it turned my blood to ice. He threw back his head and laughed. “The sacrifice was the packs themselves.”

Marcus broke out in a fit of cough. "Ungrateful? Is that what you say? I carried out all your fucking dirty deeds only for you to cast me aside when it suited you!" "Derek please, you can't do this to us because of that bitch sister of mine, she never deserved you, you wo..." "Shut up!! You are not fit to utter her name! None of you!" A bullet fired and Phoebe screamed. A bullet hole was created in Marcus' forehead as blood trickled slowly. He was dead.