Mark Manio Novels & Stories

“Move.” “Wait,” I said, staring at a photo of an older wolf with the mark peeking above his collar. Beside him stood a younger man I recognized instantly: Gage. Same eyes. Same rigid posture. The collar hid most of his throat, but I could see the edge of a mark at his jaw. My pulse jumped. “That symbol is everywhere.” “It’s pack ink,” Mason said, pulling me forward. “It’s not just ink,” I muttered. “It’s a label.”

"I swear, Alessia, I never meant for him to get involved. I just... I mentioned his name once, in passing. But these guys, they latch onto any information they can use." Alessia felt as though the floor had dropped out from under her. All this time, she'd thought she was protecting Marco by working for Nikolai. But if he was already on the Bratva's radar... "Does Marco know?" she asked, dreading the answer. "No," Tony said quickly. "At least, I don't think so. I kept him out of it. I figured he was in enough trouble already. Then he was picked up and was sent inside so it didn't matter. I thought it was over, but they came back. Demanded another name. That's why..." He gestured to his batter

I remark, not sure what the point was. "Maiden Notes is an anagram for Damian Stone." Damian remarks looking highly of himself. "So what? So you own the building. Big freaking deal. That still doesn't explain why you're here." Damian, however, looks over at me with a weird expression on his face, almost as if he finds it sexy that I continue to challenge him.

He rested up against the bars entryway, messed with three different men. Noah slipped a gold-tipped stogie out of a square metal case. He hadnt seen Noah yet. When he did, he would stop chuckling. All along, Noah had gone through the Broadcasters more than any of the fallen holy messengers. He was a specialist in manners Noah never could be: That was an endowment of those whod tossed in with Lucifer- - they had an ability for going through the shadows of the past. One gander at Noah would let this Victorian Noah know that his adversary was an Erroneous date.

Marco hasn't stepped out of the back room since our return. He’s perched cross-legged, atop the table encircled by laptops and a ring of golden handprints he made from his own blood. His scars have turned gold shining steadily without any flicker. He. Eats nor sleeps. He remains silent except when communicating in code. I come across him at 04:11 fixated on one line, on his final active screen: ROOT@CITY:~# whoami isla_valentina_kane He glances up as I come in.

“We’re not done talking about this. ”She tilted her chin, defiant. “Good. I’d hate to bore you.” He escorted her off the floor, his hand lingering on her waist, a silent claim. Marsh approached, his face grim. “Got a name on the scarred guy. Marco Santoro. Neutral fixer, plays both sides. And he’s meeting someone tonight. ”Kai’s gaze flicked to Gianna, suspicion flaring. “Stay close,” he said, his tone a command.She smiled, sharp and sweet. “Always, husband.”

Mark sighed, closing his eyes as if trying to remember. "They brought me to a desolate area and pointed a gun at me when their phone rang," he continued. "The man answered the phone, and the frown on his face indicated that he received unfavorable news. He ended the call, turned to his accomplice, and said..." Mark looked up at Nicholas, who was standing, and proceeded with his next words, "They could kill her, but they fucking couldn't kill her. You know what's worse? Romano shot a mafia lord instead, and now they're being chased by his men."

"You were just a kid." "I was a DeLuca," he snapped. "There's no such thing as 'just a kid' in this world." The silence between us stretched on for a few seconds, and then he turned to me and said, "You want the truth?" "Yes." "Marco Giordano is the most dangerous man I've ever met,” he said. “And if he knew who you were, you wouldn't make it to sundown." I swallowed nervously, carefully hiding the sudden panic crawling up my spine.