Mark Kills Thragg Novels & Stories

Slid it inside his jacket. “That’s a start,” he said. “But it’s not enough to make me walk away.” She turned her head then. Looked at him fully. Ordinary face. Brown eyes. Nothing special. Nothing evil. Just a man who wanted money. “Who are you?” she asked. “Doesn’t matter.” “It matters to me.” He studied her for a long moment. Then shrugged. “Call me Mark. Used to work security. Private. For people like Voss. I know how they move. How they think. How much they’ll pay to keep things quiet.”

“It didn’t look like he was alone.” That stilled something. Andre’s expression didn’t shift, but the air around him did. “How many?” he asked. “We couldn’t tell. The trail was disturbed deliberately.” Andre’s jaw tightened slightly, his thoughts moving faster now, connecting pieces that did not yet fully fit. Theo disappearing on his own was one thing. Now he disappeared at this time with the trails, it was clearly hunting for something… That was something else entirely. “Marks?” Andre asked. “None clear enough.”

I touched the mark on my neck,still a little dazed. Back when I thought my mate would only ever be Andrew,I never could have imagined being marked by someone else. Last night,after Austin's relentless persuasion,I'd agreed to let him mark me—so he'd have something to show his family. Austin studied the mark on my neck. "Let's go see my parents together.Otherwise my mom will keep thinking I'm making it all up." This marking felt strangely unreal. Three years ago,there'd been a grand wedding—all the ceremony and none of the substance.No mark.All of it had been a performance for an audience,a facade of happiness.

He glared at Mark, but he didn't dare strike back. "Divorce?" Mark's voice was colder than ice as he grabbed Christopher by the collar in one swift move. "Why don't you repeat that to my gun? Who are you asking to get a divorce?" Mark was famous in the underworld for his marksmanship—fast, ruthless, and precise. A few years ago, he single-handedly rescued me from a gang of vicious thugs without getting so much as a speck of dust on his clothes. Those men had dropped to the ground before they even got a clear look at what he was doing.

Chapter 7— Blind Wolves. Tristan “I've got you!” I barked, catching Mark before he hit the ground completely. His chest heaved, blood pumping out through the deep gash at the side of his torso. His eyes fluttered close, his weight sagged against me. “Stay with me, Mark!” I yelled, shaking him slightly to keep him conscious. “R–rogues,” he choked, managing to open his eyes. I shook my head. “Save your strength.”

Mark came to see him, a disappointed look in his eyes. “What are you doing?” He asked. “I don’t know. Saving my company, I guess.” “Tracy didn’t come with me.” “No, I didn’t think she would. How is she?” “She’s fine. The baby is getting big.” “Good.” “Dude, really. You don’t have to do this.” “I do, though. But thanks. I’ll see you out there.” Mark shook his head and left. His best friend was fading away before his eyes. There was no fire in him anymore. It was only a matter of time until he was completely extinguished.

I cleared my throat, sending a quick alert to both sisters, who grew fond of themselves and never let go anytime soon. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Mark," Tracia muttered, her voice low yet firm. She grasped Mia's right hand and directed her towards my side. "Meet my helper, Mia; this is Mr. Mark," she introduced me to Mia, unknowingly to her that Mia is my mother's maid. "Mr. Mark," she spoke, startled by my sudden appearance, "You came back as promised." She said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Do you know each other?" Tracia asked, her tiny voice laced with confusion, "Yeah! Is the only son of my boss, Mrs. Claire." She declared in a low tone, bowing her head and trying to avoid eye contact

A week later the dean received an anonymous donation for a new library wing, and Mark’s record mysteriously vanished. Josh had cleaned up every mess. This time Mark had killed someone. Not an accident. Not a prank. He’d slit Mallory’s throat while she laughed at him, while she told him he’d never be half the man his father was. The knife had felt right in his hand. The blood had felt like justice. Now he waited, wrists raw from cuffs, praying the old pattern held. His mother never came. Bethany Skyland had already released a statement to the press expressing her “heartbreak” and “prayers for the victim’s family.” She’d kept his father’s last name off every document since the divorce. She was

His jaw tightened as if contemplating something dangerous. "The Moonmark," he said finally. "It’s real. And you’re the key." Sena felt a chill run down her spine, but it wasn’t from fear—it was from something deeper, something more instinctual. The Moonmark. She had heard the legends, of course, the stories passed down through whispers in the dark. The mark of the Goddess, the symbol of power, of leadership. But she had always thought it was just a myth. An old tale told to keep the Mute Wolves in line, to remind them of their place.

But it didn’t. I walked back, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I could taste blood. I told myself not to cry. I was used to this. I was used to being nothing. Still, something inside me cracked. Mark sauntered up confidently. He stepped into the pool, held up a silver chain, and before the orb could even rise, a red light burst around him. Fire. He smirked and turned to the crowd. “That’s how it’s done.” Then he turned to me. “Take a good look, half-breed. This is probably the last place you’ll ever see before you’re kicked out.”