Marcus From Deadly Class Novels & Stories

Once he is dead, the pack will stand no chance against me. A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and the air in the room seemed to grow heavier as a familiar figure entered. Marcus. He moved with an unnatural grace, his hood shadowing most of his face, but the faint glow of his unnervingly sharp eyes. I stood taller, refusing to show weakness, but even I couldn’t deny the weight Marcus brought with him. His presence was always unsettling, a constant reminder of the power he wielded; dark, ancient, and ruthless.

“We have an abandoned site by the docks, boss. It checks out.” I looked back at Alex. “If you’re lying, whatever happens next will make tonight look like a gift.” Alex nodded vigorously, tears streaming down his face. “I’m not lying. I swear!” “Good,” I said, stepping back. “Marco, Take two men with you, it's just 10 minutes drive from here..” After twenty minutes, a call came through and I picked it. "Mark is dead" Marco says over the line. "He's dead"

“Who?" Marcus smiled bitterly. “It doesn't matter anymore. He died three weeks ago." Everyone froze. Elena blinked. “What?" Marcus nodded. “Natural causes. I confirmed it myself." Adrian looked incredulous. “Then why continue?" Marcus lowered his head. “Because I didn't know who I was without the mission." The confession silenced everyone. Even the police officers nearby seemed to pause. Elena suddenly understood. Marcus hadn't deceived her because he wanted power. He had deceived her because letting go of the truth meant losing the only purpose he'd had since he was a boy.

Why was he saying he killed tara? As she looked into Marcus's eyes, Sophia saw something there, something that hinted at a deep connection between him and tara something that suggested that Marcus was a broken man and he was going to remain broken for a long period of time. Marcus abruptly stood up, his eyes fixed on the Sophia. "I need a drink," he muttered, his voice low and husky. "I need to clear my head." Without another word, he turned and walked out of the hospital room, leaving Sophia alone and confused.

Past everything Catherine claimed to want. The music led to ballroom. Massive. Empty except for single figure. Damien. Standing. Not dying. Not wounded. Perfectly healthy. "Hello, Flora." Wrong voice. Wrong cadence. Wrong—everything. He smiled. Pulled off face. Prosthetic mask. Beneath— Marcus. Alive. Impossibly alive. "Surprised?" He was older. Scarred. But unmistakably Marcus. "You should be. I have been dead eight years. Quite convincing death too. You watched me burn. Remember?"

“The system my father was able to work under for so many years? That's how you all got away with murder?” "No." Marcus shook his head. "I'm confessing. Right now. In front of witnesses and cameras. ” He raised his eyes to the security cameras on the corner. "Darkest Side of the Moon we learn that dumb as a rock Marcus is the one who killed Isabella Del Rios, but it was under works by Dimitri D'Angelo. I’ve been a fugitive for 15 years. And I am giving myself up for justice.” "Uncle Marcus, no!" I screamed. My voice, however, was muffled by the glass.

“I’m trying to wake you up.” “Well congratulations,” I snapped, “You’ve officially done both.” The silence after that was suffocating. Marcus stared at me like he was searching for the girl he used to know and couldn’t find her anymore. That girl has been dead for a while now. “That man destroys everything he touches,” he said quietly. “And you’re standing there acting like you’re not already bleeding.” My chest tightened painfully. “I know who he is,” I whispered. “Do you?” Marcus challenged. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re walking straight back into the fire.”

"The FBI knows about you, Daniel. Marcus is working with them right now." "Marcus is dead." The world stopped. "What?" Adrian whispered. "I said Marcus is dead," Daniel's voice was flat and without emotion. "My informant wasn't sent to make a deal; he was sent to distract your security, then Marcus was taken out. By now he should be at the bottom of the river." I couldn't breathe. Marcus, the man who saved my life twice, who brought me coffee and sat with me for hours while I was sick and promised to keep me safe.

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.”

But it was the person standing behind him that made the blood freeze in my veins. Marcus. He was supposed to be dead. Dante had said he dealt with him at the airfield. But there he was, his eyes burning with a manic, vengeful light. "Hello, little brother," Marcus’s voice crackled through the speakers. "I hope you’re enjoying your new life as the Butcher’s pet. Did he give you a nice collar? Does he let you sleep at the foot of the bed?"