Novel & Cerita Mark Of The Thief

"Do you think she will let you know? I could sense that she keeps everything from her parents. I guess you know Dawson's family. They will not let this kind of thing happen to their daughter plus she is the only heir in the family." "I will try to figure out something. I just want to keep her safe from that bastard for now. I only knew that he still haunted her and chased her like a mad man." "Now I'm wondering how you get to know her. I can see that you are so interested in her," I can see the wide grin on his face. "I bumped into her in the hotel the last two weeks ago. She ran into my room while escaped from that bastard. I didn't know her name that time until I saw this," I took out the

“They polished me like an object before they sold me.” The woman tightening the silver chain around my throat did not even look ashamed. “Hold still,” she snapped. “If the future Luna enters the hall looking cheap, we will all suffer for it.” Future Luna. The title tasted like poison. I stared at my reflection in the tall mirror. White silk wrapped around my body. My dark hair had been pinned high with silver pins shaped like wolves. Paint covered the bruises on my wrists. But nothing could hide the mark burned into my shoulder.

Thank you again for sticking with me and reading; Marked, Broken and Carrying his Heir.

I just held my breath. “If the other high beasts see that mark, they won’t wait. They will kill you. They will kill you to protect my crown and stop the legend. Thorne, the Beta, would rip your spine out if he saw it. He’d destroy you and the mark. He would enjoy it. Do you understand the danger?” “I will hide it. I promise, i will never show anyone.” “You will hide it. Yes, be silent, be invisible and perfect. You must do all this because your life depends on it. My patience with human servants is thin, but my interest in the mark is great. I want to know what it does. I want to control this ruin.”

I scan the fence again, but there’s nothing there until the wind shifts slightly, carrying a faint stench of rot and mould. Rogues? Here, in the heart of the Royal Pack? Then I hear a twig snap, and my eyes find the source. A man steps out of the shadows on the other side of the fence, and I stiffen as more men step out beside him. I count them quickly. Fuck, ten. Two of them have what look like bolt cutters in their hands, and another has silver chains and cuffs. Oh, my fucking Goddess. 'Your Majesty, rogues north of the enclosure. They’re here to kidnap Thor.'

“But why? She’s so young.” Ailm lowers her head slightly. “War is coming. I can feel it in my bones. I had no choice.” Caden reaches for her again—but freezes. On his palm, a strange mark glows: a circle with a cross inside. Ailm nuzzles it. “It’s like a current,” he says, shocked. “It’s an Ailm mark,” she explains. “We are fated. Not just mates—fated. A rare, divine connection.” Drake stiffens. “Will Baylee wear the same mark?”

I couldn’t leave the entire burden to my Gamma, not with lives at stake. I had to go, but how could I leave her? I didn’t want to wake her, didn’t want to see confusion or fear in her eyes. So I did the one thing I had to, I marked her while she slept. My mark glowed faintly on her skin, a promise, a claim, a bond. Then I left a note beneath the lamp by the bedside, explaining everything. I prayed she’d read it. I prayed she’d wait. Now that my pack is safe, and protected, I returned without delay. It was late when we arrived at Duskwind Circle, but I didn’t care. I went straight to Kellan, heart racing.

Darius's POV The night was pitch black, the kind of dark that presses down on you, heavy and suffocating. I stood outside the pack house, staring at the claw marks gouged into the dirt. They stretched from the doorstep into the treeline, jagged and deep, like the earth itself was bleeding. Selene was gone—snatched right from our home—and those marks were the only sign of where they’d taken her. My hands shook as I traced them with my eyes, my chest tight with a pain I couldn’t name. I had to find her. I had to.

“Let’s do this tougher. Fix his hands, Mark.” Mark comes forward without a word, pulling the man’s wrists up and locking them into iron cuffs bolted into the table. They pull his arms tight, fingers splayed out on the wood. He sobs weakly, eyes rolling up. I crack my knuckles. Hold out my hand. Mark hands me the ax without hesitation. It’s a small, sharp thing, head heavy, perfect for delicate work. The dried blood from its last use flakes off under my thumb. “Last chance,” I tell him, voice flat. “What were you planning to do with the papers you stole? Where is your nest hiding?”

His hand touched the earth, gripping it to anchor himself. He blinked, struggling to remember which world was real. "Was that... my mother?" he whispered. "Or someone else's memory in my head?" No answer came. Only the wind. [Scene 4: The Mark Awakens] Stripping off his tunic to wipe sweat from his brow, he noticed something glowing just over his heart. He froze. A faint sigil burned beneath his skin—a crescent moon wrapped in thorn and flame. He stepped back toward the fire, staring down at his chest.