Possessed Stan Marsh Novels & Stories

The body she had never found was now, in reality, burned to ashes. “You shouldn’t have taken my daughter’s life.” “I had no choice. She slandered me viciously and tried to hurt my fiancée—sorry, now my wife,” Kingston added, making his final statement precise and clear. This provoked the savage side of Venessa, causing her knuckles to turn white as she clenched her fists around the iron bar. It became painfully clear just how much Venessa possessed the supernatural abilities August had described. The area around the pillar seemed to undergo a form of oxidation as the woman screamed in rage. The specially crafted prison bars instantly crumbled, her hands gripping the roughly torn-out bars.

He glared and threatened to come get me. "You're not in your right mind; you're being used!!! Remember, when my father chose you and made you the Beta, you were nothing. Have you forgotten the strong bond you both shared?" I shrieked with hot tears rolling down my eyes. The image of my father grunting in the pool of his blood broke me to pieces and made me wish I had great powers to revenge him. My eyes were on Stan and fear was all I could feel. Stan's beast was more like a demon than a wolf. I was sure he was being possessed by demons that gave him extreme powers and that had made him kill without restraint.

He sometimes caught pieces of flesh but needed to get his jugular vein and put an end to him for good. Suddenly, he heard screaming and sounds behind him as he looked behind him. It was Mara and she was already fighting her way through. Something about her was changed or rather different and the he noticed her glassy pupils. Mara had been possessed. Just in time before she would reach him, he tossed Sebastian aside hard and then looked at the god of death. “This is a foul!!!” he yelled “How’s that?” was the response “She cannot interfere. You promised this would be a duel.” Grimshaw said

When Vernon found out, he immediately gave up the idea of making Madame Pandora his. Marshall was well aware of all the events that happened. Therefore, he would never go overboard with her, no matter how beautiful he found her to be. Nothing was more important than staying alive. Darryl was shocked by their conversation. He never knew Madame Pandora to be untouchable. After releasing her from his embrace, Marshall took out an emerald bug from his pocket and said, “This is a brain-eating worm. Once ingested, the person will be driven into insanity. Feed it to him later.”

“Ha... How can things go this fast? I just wanted to escape the goons that night, but I ended up becoming acquainted with Mr. Marcus, or Callisto, a mafia boss. Callisto went inside to get his keys with a smug look on his face. “I’ll be going out for a bit.” Then he went out of the room. “Okay?” After a while, I heard his car exit the vicinity. “Is he alright? He looked pissed.” I wonder what the phone call is about that made him look like that. Hmm... I should clean this place and sleep. I hope he’ll be back to his usual self when he comes back. **** FOOTSTEPS woke me up. “Urgh, I didn’t realize that I fell asleep while reading a novel.” I sat on the sofa to know what was happening.

I was about to fall to my knees, but Paulina helped me remain steady. “Not on my watch, mistress,” she said softly. Beta Marc was enraged even as he cried the loss of his leader. He turned to me with bloodshot eyes, and soon growled, “This isn’t over.” “Don’t let him escape,” were the last words I uttered before he changed into his wolf form, ready to make a run for it. No one was quick enough to catch up to him in time, but somehow we heard a loud thud soon after he changed.

The first thing to go was his skin. It sloughed in patches... paper-thin, curling at the edges like burnt leaves. Beneath, raw muscle pulsed, veins thrumming silver-black like they didn’t belong to a man or a beast. Just something... becoming. Victor Marshall sat alone in the hollowed ruins of the chapel, the same one where he'd once shown Emilia what he could be: power cloaked in gentleness, hunger disguised as prophecy.

He was a sentry guarding not an external enemy, but the very man he was forced to assist every second of the day. Dorian’s paralysis had returned following the incident with the shaman—a physical frailty that stood in stark contrast to the voracity of his spirit. Derand Thorne had been chillingly clear: Carter was to move into the family estate. "You’re the only one he trusts," he had said with a coldness that now carried a sinister undertone. "Help me, Carter. My legs are nothing but dead weight today," Dorian commanded from his chair, his voice dripping with an arrogance that not even the fires of Hell could extinguish.

With that, he brought in more people—Marco and Ven, his friends from the orphanage. Stan had been the last to join, but he had a strong reason for wanting to take down Marchetti Corporation—not just the company, but King himself. At least, that was his initial goal. But after recent events, his thirst for vengeance had shifted toward King’s father instead. He would take any opportunity to destroy that man. And now, Kane is their leader. Their master. Their boss. Their frontman in this war. And Stan will do anything to support his master, whom he considers a friend—someone who took him in and gave him a decent life he never thought he could have.

Stan continued, his tone suggesting a cruel irony, “Besides, after this hunt, I am certain Bennett will come to value your 'loyalty' and strive for a peaceful den.” Charlotte looked at Stan in disbelief. She knew his insistence on her staying was not out of concern, but a calculated revenge for her previous refusal to take him to her bed. Despite his newfound power, Stan remained a scarred, illegitimate wolf with a disfigured face, making him an object of pity to some. His appeal was limited to those like Delaney Cross, whose fanatical loyalty was often mistaken for love. Stan was not a wolf driven by the heat of the moon; he sought only leverage. Melinda knew he craved her high-born scent,