Prisoner Mark Invincible Novels & Stories

“I wasn’t thinking straight. But I never wanted Tricia hurt. Never.” General Watson studied him. Long. Hard. As if searching for something. Anything. “Do you even hear yourself?” he asked quietly. Mark’s breath faltered. “People don’t get accidentally kidnapped, beaten, and shot because someone ‘wasn’t thinking straight.’” Each word landed with precision. Cutting deeper than the last. Mark looked away. Because for once… He had nothing to say. “She’s alive.” The words came suddenly. And they changed everything. Mark’s head snapped up.

Every slight movement causes a spike of pain to lance through me. Then, the brand. I reach a hand automatically towards my abdomen and flinch. A sharp pain shoots through my skin, and I gasp. It burns- not the flesh alone but my entire soul cries out as my fingers gaze over the letters branded into my abdomen. Damien's Property. Silent tears turn down my cheeks. How? How could my life have come to this? Just earlier today, I was a bride, and now I am imprisoned in a cage like a dog.

he demanded gently, taking my phone to examine the message, his jaw clenching visibly. "Burner phone," he confirmed after a terse call to the PI, his free hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. "Untraceable at first glance, but we'll crack it. Mark's still in custody—solitary, monitored 24/7. This could be a copycat stirring trouble, or Victoria pulling strings from her cell. She's got friends on the outside." Fear twisted in my gut like a knife, sharp and unrelenting, but anger flared brighter, a protective fire. "They won't stop, will they? Even behind bars, they're trying to worm their way back in."

The man kept on asking as Mark was silent on the other line. “Where is he? I want to see him!” Mark asked so dispiritedly. “He was still inside the prison. Our team was still in the process of…” The man answered but was cut off. Mark dropped the call and run hurriedly inside. The cops were shocked was his hysterical presence. They stopped him but failed as Mark was strong enough to push them and struggle from their grip. He went inside very mad and no one could stop him from seeing the poor old Mr. Hendrick.

"Hands up!" Mark's face turned pale as he looked at Yos. *** The next day, Alex visited the prison. The prison officer provided a small room with a table and two chairs. Alex waited in the room until an officer brought Markus in with his hands in handcuffs. Markus looked at Alex, surprised by the arrival of the disabled man. "Are you willing to sell your business to me?" Alex asked directly. "I can get you out of this prison as a bonus." "I'm not guilty!" Markus yelled angrily. "I've been framed, and I know it's you who did it." In reality, Markus didn't know. He was just trying to vent his frustration.

The tunnel is not a very nice place to be in. When they both got there, they were impressed by how much Williams had prepared him. He was injected with wolfsbane in little quantities over and over again, seizing the luxury of a quick death. “What’s your name?” Seth asked the man in front of him who was obviously rid of all his strength and probably didn’t have any to pronounce his name. “Mark..." the prisoner muttered. Seth was supposed to question him but there was not much use in it. Oliver had already told him most of what he needed to know but then there was a pressing question he wished he never had to ask.

He glared at Mark, but he didn't dare strike back. "Divorce?" Mark's voice was colder than ice as he grabbed Christopher by the collar in one swift move. "Why don't you repeat that to my gun? Who are you asking to get a divorce?" Mark was famous in the underworld for his marksmanship—fast, ruthless, and precise. A few years ago, he single-handedly rescued me from a gang of vicious thugs without getting so much as a speck of dust on his clothes. Those men had dropped to the ground before they even got a clear look at what he was doing.

Mark chuckled, “Because right now, as we speak, Dare is in our custody. He’s all chained up like a prisoner, and I can guarantee you that he isn’t leaving here alive. He won’t be saving anyone.” The murmurs quieted almost immediately. They believed him. Of course, they believed him. Mark had planned this too well, manipulating every piece of the puzzle to ensure there was no hope for escape—for either Dare or me. I felt my knees start to buckle again, but I forced myself to stay upright. The humiliation of being paraded in front of these monsters was bad enough; I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me collapse. Then, with a sickening cheerfulness, Mark continued. “Let’s start the

Fred asked. ‘Better than before.’ Mark wrote down. “That’s great.” Fred said. Mark, an ex-mercenary, he got posted to the army and served for a while before being released dishonourably and thrown into jail for disobeying a direct command. Upon release, he got a job by political aspirants as a mercenary in taking down their rivals. He had completed lots of jobs and was paid well but got tired of killing people for a living. Fortunately, he came across Fred, who was hiring at that time, and he talked to him. They worked something out, and Mark was put through a series of test to test his loyalty, to which he passed. Mark had become a main part of the team ever since then and had enough experi

I stopped breathing; all I could do was nod my head as I got out of the car. It was summertime, and the weather was perfect. The sun had already set for the day, but I was still very comfortable in the little amount of clothing that I had on. This “party” was a homecoming party. My husband's best friend Mark had been sent to prison when he was only sixteen for shooting another boy in the head in what was thought to be part of a gang violence epidemic that the city was dealing with. He was now twenty-three and had successfully pleaded a case of self-defense. This “party” was for two and I was a present from my husband to get Mark back into the game. I stopped for a minute and tried to remembe