Marcust Pick Up Line Novels & Stories

Just a single line of text written in plain, elegant prose: Julian was always careless with his pawns. Congratulations on securing the logistics network, Monroe. I look forward to meeting the new matriarch. Marcus stared at the screen, his blood running cold. He instantly picked up his secure line and hit speed dial. Across town in the quiet master suite of the brownstone, Xavier’s phone chimed on the nightstand. Xavier, resting on his side with Selah asleep in his arms, reached out and answered on the first ring. "Marcus," Xavier whispered, keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake her. "What is it?"

It was a hard anger. The phone on the bed started buzzing again. Marcus. I picked it up. Finally swiped the screen to answer. I did not say anything. I just held the phone to my ear listening to the sound of his breath. “Eva? Babe? Why did it take you long to pick up?” Marcus's voice came through the speaker,

“Don't trust anyone in this house. Anyone.” Before I could even process the words, my phone buzzed violently in my trench coat pocket. With shaking hands, I pulled it out. It wasn't the unknown number this time. It was a restricted line. I swiped the screen, pressing it to my ear as the police began guiding Harrison down the marble steps into the rain. “Hello?” I whispered, my voice trembling. A low, smooth laugh echoed through the receiver—a voice I hadn't heard in weeks, but would recognize anywhere. Marcus.

" he chuckled. "Marcus why are you in my house this early." "Because," Marcus said, dropping into the armchair by the window like he owned it, boots and all, "some of us actually answer our phones. I've been calling you since six. Six, Cade. I even called the landline, and you don't even have a landline, so I called the site office landline and asked them to relay a message like it's 1995."