Peter Parker Unmasked Novels & Stories

"But apparently not as long as you. What were you and Marco talking about?" "Nothing that matters," Dimitri said, his attention already shifting away from business. "Just security updates. Making sure everything is locked down so we don't have any interruptions." Eve turned in his lap to face him. He was shirtless, wearing only linen shorts that hung low on his hips. His chest was bare, and she could see the scars, old ones from fights, new ones from the bullets he'd taken. Each one told a story of a war she'd never fully understand.

Iris Masked Muse. The username was clear as day, along with the teaser image of my masked face and bare shoulders, save for the faint hint of lace right where my chest was cut off. 'A little teaser for what came next’ I'd called it back when I'd uploaded the photo. It was visible. The notification for tonight’s stream still glowed at the top. Oh God. Heat flooded my cheeks. I dropped to my knees, snatching the phone and clutching it against my chest as if that could erase it.

I arrived exactly on time, trading my hockey gear for a crisp white shirt, my hair pulled back, and my war-paint replaced by light, professional makeup. Peter was already there. He stood by the arched stone entrance, wearing a matching white shirt that made his tanned skin and dark eyes look even more lethal. One hand was shoved deep into his pocket, his posture relaxed, though his scent was thick with a restless, possessive energy. "You didn't run," Peter said, a predatory smile tugging at his lips as he closed the distance between us. I had no idea that inside his pocket, the powerful hand of the Draven Alpha was actually trembling with a trace of nerves.

Still I waited again and it was already dark. This was really scary. I had just gotten off the call with Damon when Peter came back. I was ready to lambast him when I noticed the scent around him and he looked weak with his jacket seemingly hiding something underneath. I reached over and pulled it down and without opening the bandage, I knew what was there. But Peter had no idea what had just happened to him. He has disqualified himself from running for Alpha ever.

It was a text from Glenda. “Get away from the target immediately. It’s a set up, and I think Garrick is in on it.” Still trying to make meaning of it, another text came in with a photo attached. “This is your target isn’t he?” The photo was of Peter wearing a grey Italian suit, looking even more imposing as he stared out from a docked yacht. The text at the bottom of the picture sent tremors running down my spine. “That’s not Peter Portman, that’s Xavier Storm.”

Dim lights cast pale reflections on the concrete floor, creating long shadows that shifted as cars passed by. As I walked toward the main entrance, something caught my attention. In the corner of the basement, someone stood behind a black car. The figure almost blended into the darkness, dressed entirely in black jacket, pants, even gloves. A black cap covered most of his face, while a dark mask hid his expression. But his eyes, they were locked onto me. I stopped. Slowly, his hand reached into his pocket. His movement was calm, but that was precisely what made my chest tighten even more.

The butcher of everything good in me. He thinks he made me his masterpiece. I closed my fist around the pendant, the edges biting into my skin until it stung. The pain grounded me. One day, I’ll end him. And I will finally be free of this world

For years, I had endured so many forms of abuse, I had been hoping and expecting this, but finally seeing the long awaited ink on the paper felt like a heavy stone being lifted off my chest. I dunked my phone to the bed and pulled a secondary, encrypted burner phone from the hidden lining of my jewelry box that say pretty on the nightstand and typed a single sentence to a contact I hadn't messaged since the day I said "I do." "The mask is off and the coast is clear. Activate the Blackwood protocols and begin the aggressive short-sell on Thorne Group, immediately. I’m coming home to claim my seat. Afterall, it is long overdue." I looked at the bathroom door one last time. Julian thought he wa

“No evidence of illicit activity. No rogue pack involvement. No human crimes we can legally link to him. He’s… untouchable, in other words.” I sank back into my chair, heart pounding. My fingers drummed the table in frustration. “And… the photos? The sightings?” “Checked,” the first analyst said. “Every one we cross-referenced. Verified identities. It’s him. But clean. Politically untouchable. The man in your files, the same Peter who haunted your past… he’s now a public figure. Everything’s been sanitized.” Also, these experts are the ones who helped I and my pack members know of his identity.

The news had reached them. Adrian had found the secrets buried beneath his empire. A heavy silence settled over the room, only disturbed by the rhythmic tapping of fingers against the table’s surface. A man, draped in a dark coat with a scar slashing across his jaw, exhaled sharply. "I wasn’t aware there was actually another underground where they could keep something like that," he murmured, his voice rough with irritation. His name was parker, and he was the one who handled intelligence for the masked Men.