Marked By The Mob Novels & Stories

“We’re not alone.” I sent a quick mindlink to Marcus, calling him and his group to my position. My heart was pounding, the black blood on the ground still fresh in my mind, its foul stench clinging to my nose. Minutes later, Marcus jogged up, his tall frame cutting through the dusk, his group trailing close behind. I pointed to the blood, my voice low.

But the moment he saw the hallway, he froze in his tracks. Over a dozen heavily armed mobsters were staring dead at him. Over a dozen dark gun barrels aimed right at his chest. Mark shivered in terror. The fat on his face jiggled as cold sweat broke out. But then he spotted Romano, who had just stood up from the shattered glass. Because Romano had been kneeling with his back to the elevator, Mark entirely missed the pathetic display of him on his knees. The panic vanished. In its place came the most sickening ass-kissing I’d ever seen. He must've thought Brenda called in his cavalry.

Cocking her brow Sophia turned and felt a slight pinch. "Tada, this was embedded in your spine," Atlas mumbled sourly, holding up what looked like an acupuncture needle. "That was in me!" Sophia gasped. She watched Atlas crush the object into dust. "You are safe for now, miss transporter," Atlas teased. Rolling her eyes skyward, Sophia told him she didn't feel anyone insert it. "Why is a needle called a demon mark?" She asked curiously. "It is a demon mark for death and you were tagged like an animal to be taken to slaughter. Not all marks are made by the teeth," he mumbled with a shudder.

Too many hands. Too much weight. For the first time in years... Mark Romano was forced to one knee. Rain streamed down his face. Blood stained his shirt. Still... He lifted his head. Defiant. Unbroken. The attackers stepped back. A path opened through the crowd. Alessandro Moretti walked forward slowly, applauding. "Magnificent." He stopped in front of Mark. "I've heard stories." He smiled. "They weren't exaggerated." Mark met his eyes without fear. "If you're going to kill me..."

We followed the sound to the far edge of the field where the oldest practice dummies stood — reinforced stone and wood constructs etched with pack markings. Or what used to be pack markings. The dummy lay shredded. Not smashed. Not broken. Torn apart. Deep claw marks gouged through reinforced stone. Wood splintered outward as if ripped by something that knew exactly where to strike. And carved into the chest, precise and deliberate, was a symbol burned into the surface. Blackridge. Not defaced. Claimed. Silence fell heavy around us. Liora crouched beside it, fingers hovering just above the markings. “This wasn’t rage,” she said quietly. “This was demonstration.”

I have been marked by a stranger. In our lives as werewolves, being marked is supposed to be a joyous occasion, a celebration of love and unity. It’s supposed to be of happiness, shared between two mates who love each other. It’s a claim, a bond that no other wolf dares to challenge. But this… this was nothing like that. This was a violation, a mockery of everything I had ever hoped for.

Mark was running; even though his muscles were tired and his body was now drenched in sweat, Mark continued to move where Aimie was, but as he was busy finding Aimie, a loud curse was heard on the phone. “Sh*t, the direction in which Aimie had turned is a blind spot.” An alarm started to ring inside Mark’s mind, and as he turned to the blind spot, Mark prayed that he could still catch Aimie. But what he saw had made Mark dispirited since what was in front of him was the large crowd of tourists having some sort of celebration.

It's more believable, and I think the Council will be understanding. The only issue is the massive mark Tobias has left on my neck. With four marks to take, if they're all this large, I don't know where they'll all fit. Zanthe thinks Lincoln should mark me beside Tobias's, so the pack might not notice they're two separate marks. But I know Lincoln wants his mark to be clearly distinguishable from Tobias's... Alpha pride and all that. Unless one of them marks me somewhere else on my body, although it's highly unusual, someone will need to overlap.

The Marked One. ​As I reached them, Noah placed a hand on the small of my back. It was a gesture of protection, but my heart told me otherwise. ​"Tonight, you the neighbors," Cassian whispered, leaning in as I stood between them. "Try not to look so much like a rabbit, little wolf." ​"Why am I here?" I hissed, my hand instinctively going to the collar of my gown to hide the mark. ​"It’s a celebration of strength, Aria," Noah answered, his voice smooth as silk but hard as the marble beneath us. "The Blackthorne Gala". Our allies have traveled far to witness the stability of the Blackthorne territory. Don’t embarrass us."

Outside, the guards were ushering me back toward the car when the fire alarm suddenly blared through the shopping center. People started streaming out of stores, and the guards tensed, one of them speaking rapidly into his earpiece while the other scanned the crowd. That's when I felt a hand on my arm, pulling me sideways into the chaos. "Arya. Don't scream." Marco hissed. My heart stopped as pulled me behind a pillar, he looked so much different than the last time I saw him. There was even a scar underneath his eyes that wasn’t there before and a faint stubble dotted his chin.