Marcus Deadly Class Novels & Stories

They had survived too many close calls to end like this, shot down like a dog on a dark dock. “Fuck! Fuck!!” Marcus gritted his teeth, his jaw locking tight. “Leo!” He called out again as he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white, a cold promise settling deep in his chest. "I am going to kill every single one of you," Marcus whispered, his voice deadly quiet. "Every single one." He did not have time to dwell on his grief. Two mercenaries in black tactical gear stepped out from behind a stack of rusted shipping containers. They carried heavy rifles and moved with perfect, military discipline. They did not look like local mobsters. They looked like ghosts in the dark.

“Its power signature… it’s not A-Class anymore. It’s breached S-Class.” I glanced at him. His face was pale under the grime, his knuckles white on the hilt of his sword. I’d never seen him look truly scared before. Wary, yes. Cautious. This was different. This was the look of a man reading his own obituary. “An A-Class Instance spawning an S-Class boss?” Marcus rumbled, his tactical vest creaking as he shifted his weight. “Statistically anomalous. Catastrophically so.”

Even the dead seem curious. They start drifting up the service road just before the third container lifts, drawn by engine growl and metal-on-metal shriek. Five at first. Then eight. Then enough that Miles turns his head once and Marcus’s people move. No shouting. No fuss. Miles takes the left side with Tessa and Cal while three others from Marcus’ group fans right. They handle the dead fast and quiet. Too fast. Too quiet. Maya watches while pretending to check chalk marks. Tessa cuts hamstrings before skulls. Another uses a short blade with economical rhythm. Marcus himself is not there. He is on the far perimeter, but his people move like he is standing inside their heads giving directions

Then at Sage. “I vote—” The door burst open. Marcus stood there. Bloodied. Armed. Twenty wolves behind him. “Nobody’s voting,” he said. “Because I’m killing you all.” He raised his gun and fired.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

A single line of sweat traced down his temple. "Is he...?" My voice was barely a whisper. "Dead," Marcus said flat, with no emotion. "He would have killed you both." I stared at the body. At the dark stain spreading beneath his head. The way his fingers were still curled around the trigger. He wouldn't let go even in death. "He would have killed you both." I started shaking. Adrian pulled me into his chest. His arms wrapped around me like a cage. Like he could keep the world out by sheer force.

He looks down at her fingernails—which have now turned completely pitch-black from the absolute lack of oxygen—realizing that the next three seconds will permanently decide whether her soul remains on this earth. Before Professor Qi's enforcers can forcefully load the dying woman onto the transport gurney, Justin violently releases his grip on the doctor's coat, his massive frame pivoting around like an iron tower as he drops directly to one knee flat against the gravel before the old healer, his raw baritone voice shaking the entire courtyard: "If your silver needles can truly keep her heart beating today, my iron life and every single drop of blood under my skin belongs permanently to the

Marcus asked, his voice dropping into a professional, icy clip. "Yes, sir. We got an information, Derek’s team is already moving. Marcus looked back at me, his eyes roaming over my messy hair and the small cut on my cheek. He didn't look like he wanted to kiss me anymore. "Prepare the cars," Marcus said, stepping out into the hall. He looked at the guard, then back at the dark room where I sat trembling on the bed. "This is good news. We have someone to kill now, don’t we? ....you know Rose I have always wanted to kill that bastard for all the pains he has caused you. I promise you, Rose. I will bring you Richard's head."

We held a funeral for him anyway. Now here he was, walking into our garage like a ghost who never left. I couldn’t move for a second. My mind kept flashing back to that night years ago. The fire. The screams. The way we all thought we had lost one of our own for good. Nobody questioned it. We were too busy trying to survive. “Damon?” Colt’s voice cut through the fog in my head. “You know that tattoo?” I nodded slowly, still staring at the screen. “Yeah. I know it. That’s Marcus Vale’s mark. He died in the explosion back in the first big war we fought. Or at least that’s what we all thought.”

Ciel immediately said, cutting off Marcus's words. Marcus laughed. "We'll, I'm just saying." Ciel gave Marcus Garcia an incredulous look. 'How could he smile and laugh while talking about killing someone? Seriously, he's giving me some weird and creepy killer vibes right now.' Sensing the kind of look Ciel was giving, Marcus laughed even more before saying, “I know what you're thinking, so let me get this straight now. I have never killed anyone,” he paused as his smile deepened in a creepy way, then he continued to say, “but that could change today. This might be the day where I'll have my first kill.”

From a number he'd never seen. *Your father lied about one thing. The sun isn't dying. But something else is coming. Something worse. And only Hope can stop it. Find me. Before they find you. -Marcus* Marcus. Their brother. The one they'd killed. The one who couldn't be killed. He was alive. And he knew something nobody else did. The game wasn't over. It was just beginning.