Masked Villain Novels & Stories

“Even with rumors swirling and numbers crashing, Villareal isn’t panicking. He’s not breaking.” Damon’s eyes darkened. Then, slowly, dangerously, his lips curled into a grin. “Courage,” he said softly, “is a mask. And masks…” His hand lifted, making a tearing motion through the air, “…can always be ripped off.” The room stilled as Damon rose from his chair, his presence commanding silence. He scanned his men—killers, hackers, smugglers, soldiers of shadows—every eye fixed on him, awaiting his next decree. “Then, let’s scare him.”

He is the Male lead and Sinister too from the very start. Valerie had suffered a lot and she has reached her limit. And now you will see the strong girl. Sinister did wrong and he needs to face the consequences as well. I will reveal his full plan soon. Don’t forget to like and comment. Don’t forget to follow me here and on I*******m, the link is available in my bio. Or simply search marwians. I purple you.

Mariana felt her self sigh out of relief, after all Marco Di Martino wasn't going to kill her anymore and for the job she had been denied those skills since she was sixteen how was she going to pull that off. A loud growl pulled her out of her thoughts, she looked up at Davin. A man who was well built and big enough to scare all the day lights out of her, he had black messy hair and green - grey eyes that held nothing but coldness whilst his red plump lips. The men here knew exactly what they call beauty without a try, Mariana couldn't help but notice the angry scowl on his face. Mariana smiled not so surely hoping he would let go of that anger, she never meant to shoot him but acted on inst

It wasn't a slow movement; it was a physical reaction, as if a predator had just stepped into a room full of sheep. He walked with a predatory grace that commanded the very oxygen in the room. He was tall—impossibly so—clad in a bespoke tuxedo that looked as if it were spun from the shadows themselves. His mask was not made of lace or plastic, but carved obsidian, shaped into the sharp, cruel visage of a raven. Only his eyes were visible: a pair of dark, icy depths that seemed to absorb all the light around them. "Dante Moretti," Arthur whispered, the name sounding like a death rattle.

He looked like a dangerous mafia lord with tattoos peeking through his crisp matte black shirt. Irritation hardened on Mavrick’s handsome features as his hold on her wrist become steel. “Not at all. I was expecting you” Despite the smooth reply, Grace felt the dark flower on his face. He stepped in front of her, blocking her from the blue-eyed man’s view and vice-versa. The other man raised a brow before his mask of coldness slipped to reveal a smirk. He stepped around Maverick so intentionally that felt like he was provoking him and held out his hand.

The man's like a cartoon sometimes, overly animated, exuberant to the point of absurdity. That's a mask. The real Orin was the man I saw moments ago in the hallway. The clever crime lord. The dangerous fucker. I can't let his little happy-go-lucky bullshit act distract me from what he is. A killer.

He grabbed my forearm aggressively and pinched my chin, forcing me to keep my gaze on him. "Don't cross the line, Ariel, you don't want to see the other side of me," His eyes darkened as he dished out the warning, but I snatched my face and hand from his grip and stepped backward. If he thought that being hard on me would make me cower before him like a jelly, then he was in for a long ride. I planned to make his life miserable and this was only the beginning. "Oh, I'm scared to my bones. I'm even trembling," I replied with a taunting smile, faking a shiver. "Now let me tell you something, Mr masked man, I'm not afraid of you, alright?"

Just the echo of her ragged breathing. This wasn’t an ordinary kidnapping. Her stomach twisted. She clenched her fists. The fear was real—but so was the fury. “When I see him…” she muttered through clenched teeth, “I’ll spit in his face. Whoever he is. I’ll make him bleed.” The click of a lock stopped her cold. The door opened. A man stepped inside. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Black fitted shirt. Muscles tense like coiled wire. His face was a marble mask—expressionless, unhurried.

His eyes were darkened as a sly, cunning smile pulled on his lip's corners. " I guess we have to kill them," I chuckled and rushed back to my room to change into my enforcer uniform. This is gonna be a bloody massacre I am sure. After dressing up in all black, I looked at myself in the mirror. ' Ah, man I don't really like killing people in broad daylight but I think today's exceptional because I'm in the mood too,' I said to myself and covered my face with a mask. I obviously don't want anyone to recognise me as Erick Mcadam, an actor. But as Frank Hill, brother of Xavier Hill. Our real identities in the Mafia world which makes everyone piss in terror.

He moved like liquid, all coiled danger, his thumb tracing the scar beneath my glove. "I really like your mask," I said, tilting my head. "It's very…feral." His laugh vibrated against my collarbone. "You'd prefer the face beneath it." "Are you sure it's not another mask underneath it?" He spun me violently, the world blurring into streaks of gold. When his lips brushed my ear, I smelled blood beneath the cologne. "Very clever, sweetheart. But men like me don't hide. We haunt." Antonio Cosa. Eldest son of the Cosa crime dynasty. Professional widow-maker. I let my body go slack against his, a marionette with cut strings. "Disappointing. I'd hoped you'd be taller... And quieter."