Mark Of The Outsider Novels & Stories

I asked as they reached us. Jon gave a quick nod. “We caught him sneaking near the edge of the pack territory. He fought hard. Killed one of our scouts before we brought him down.” The rogue raised his head slowly, his eyes meeting mine, there was no fear in them, only a strange, empty calm. “What are those markings?” James asked, frowning. “No idea,” Jon replied. “But he’s not normal.” I stepped closer, my eyes were fixed on the strange markings on his body, they looked like ancient markings, they looked like symbols planted on his skin, somehow they felt wrong, they looked old, dark and another word to describe them was dangerous.

He gives a small smile before going back to the papers in front of him. I walk over to the bookshelf and start to search for a book to explain everything about this dishonorable mark to me. Brandon explained the basics of it to me. Telling me how the mark makes him an outcast and no wolves will want anything to do with him, because they will know he's untrustworthy and has done something horrible to earn that mark.

Entry 112: The Outcast’s Mark “The crescent moon scarred with a single line—once a symbol of belonging, now the emblem of disgrace. Reserved for those who have committed the gravest of betrayals and for those who do not have the ability to phase. To bear this mark is to carry the weight of shame, ostracized from pack and kin alike.” My stomach churned as I read. I’d lived with that weight for years, but seeing it written here, so coldly and detached, made it feel heavier.

This was a bad blood hideout — an entire community of outcasts. My heart pounded. If they discovered who my father was, I’d be killed on the spot. I looked down at my hands. All bad bloods bore a mark — a pig tattoo branded or inked onto their left hand, a symbol of their status as outcasts. I had no such mark, which would immediately identify me as an outsider. I pulled on a pair of gloves from my bag, adjusted my scarf, and walked toward the compound. No one stopped me at the entrance. People glanced my way but didn’t bother me. I must have looked like just another visitor, or perhaps a new arrival.

However, they understood and doted on me as always, and didn't protest against my relationship with Duke, even secretly helping me establish a pack for Duke. I had personally used all my savings for the undertaking, but none of what I did got the marking ceremony I wanted, let alone Duke's loyalty. My mother sighed over the phone in turn. "It's alright, Fiona. You still have us—come home if you can't be happy in the Forest Pack." I was staring at a photo of me and Duke kept on the table, and said bitterly, "Give me a couple of weeks." Duke and I were supposed to be marked in a couple weeks, and I would have held up the end of our promise if I waited until that day.

The uncertainty was a constant torment, eroding my confidence and leaving me feeling increasingly isolated within my own mind. It was during one of these waking visions, a particularly vivid hallucination where the familiar walls of our bedroom seemed to melt away into the desolate landscape of my nightmare, that I discovered it. A mark. It appeared on the inside of my left forearm, a patch of skin that seemed unnaturally cold to the touch. It was a swirling pattern of dark, almost black lines, intricate and unsettling, pulsing with a faint, inner luminescence that seemed to shift and writhe beneath my skin. Panic seized me. The mark felt alien, invasive, a tangible manifestation of the enti

Sighed. This feels like an escape from the tiger but bumped into a wolf at the end. But still, I feel more secure to be with him compared to Matt that having a bad habit to released his anger to me physically and worst, mentally. I get rid of the thought that running non-stop in my mind. I thank the driver and ran to the entrance. Dominic POV

Lips that could smile and draw in a crowd. I had never felt such rage boiling through my veins. I’d never felt such hatred in my heart. “Now, back to our special item,” the host went on. I was glad at least to see him set the shocking device aside. He gestured to Ava’s stomach, where her mark scrawled across her belly. “As you can see, this girl is marked in a similar fashion to the others. Not a scar, and certainly not a burn. But there is something particular about this mark that sets her aside from the rest. This mark…is the mark of a devil.”

Daddy turns to me in a flash and I see that he’s about to get me when there is the sound of a low growl through the trees. Daddy whips around and we both look up in time to see three big wolves coming out of the woods. Two of them are brown, one is gray with white markings. All three are big and shaggy. Dirty and obviously not well fed. And all three have the deep dark brown eyes and the dark furred spot over half of their faces. The rogue mark. A mark that is there in both human and wolf form. The mark that shows that they are unwanted by a pack. Dangerous and unpredictable. Not to be trusted.

I leaned carefully to see my Aunt and Joanna. “I looked everywhere for it, didn't find any,” My aunt responded, her tone was as low as she could get it. “I don't think she has a mark. So I don't think there's a need to bring her into the life, the life that her father fought to keep her out of,” “The girl deserves to know. She's still going to have questions because with or without the mark, the blood is in her vein,” Joanna retorted sharply. I figured I had heard enough and it was clearly a conversation I shouldn't be caught listening to. I backed away slowly but my back bumped into someone.