Scab Scar Knight Novels & Stories

“I told you, I’m not after your money nor your company,” Scar says calmly, dropping the card on the table. “Then what are you after? Why are you here with a card to help me from going bankrupt?” Letting the card bouncing off the table, Sebastian grabs her wrist instead before she could pull back. He leans in so close that she could smell his cologne, his head bent lower to nail her eyes as his whisper stiffens her body: “...why do you care at all…Mrs…Knight?”

Raven knocked the bowl to the ground in a hoarse voice, "And stop fucking lying to me!" Knight stared at the broken bowl as if in shock. He closed his eyes with an angry frown. Raven knew he went too far, but he wasn't in an apologizing mood. Knight took a deep breath before he stood up and left, Raven grabbed his arm, only to see all the claw marks on his back, it was like a kid threw a tantrum with red ink on his back, except it was blood. "What happened to you?!" Raven gasped in shock, hesitating to touch the scary scars.

Layla scrambled back in terror, but it was too late. My claws ripped her dress, revealing the pale skin of her back. It was smooth. Flawless. There was no scar. And Myrna... Myrna had a hideous scar running from her left shoulder to her right hip. The scar I had touched a thousand times, but never once asked where it came from. "Moon Goddess," I collapsed. "What have I done?" "You regret it now?" Layla sat on the floor, her eyes filled with malicious glee. "It's too late, Clark. It's far too late."

Sniffling, I raised my tattooed hand to the nail and pressed hard on it, swiping down quickly as a hiss escaped my lips. “I’m nothing but a failed Knight.” Staring down at my bloody hand, I sobbed as I looked at the fresh scar that cut through the blade of the sword. This was a universal symbol for a dishonorable failed Knight: A broken sword.

Scar kissed her neck softly as she traced every line of the ink as if she was re-inking them herself. A large skull was surrounded by an array of roses. A Christian cross in the back, behind the skull, stuck out to Lani because of the dove perched on it so innocently. Scar's tattoos were a mixture of dark and light, they described him perfectly. The same happened on his arms, one was decorated with the ideas of Satan, the other those of holy angels.

“How long have you been working for the rebels?” Vaughn doesn't blink. “Since they took Nova's mom.” He stands there, steady and cold, like he’s done nothing wrong. My chest tightens with wonder. I’m holding my breath without knowing why. “That was five years ago,” I whisper as tears roll down my cheek. Kieran's scars blaze to life as he recovers from the stone sickness. The lines on his skin connect into seven glowing dots, forming the Big Dipper - an ancient pattern of stars that forms the old constellation. It points towards the north as it always has.

The Prez told us to focus on the new club and he and Killer would keep us informed on Beggar. “Not sure, with all our time split between looking for Beggar, the club, government calling us and this shit storm here, don't know, hopefully end of November.” He gets back to his tablet, and I stare at the small snakes tattooed to the side of his face. It is a small piece from our club emblem. Knight has the same ones on his neck. Snake lifts his head, his green eyes are light that they look almost yellow. He reminds me of a snake. Not so much now that he cut his hair.

I'm not weak… "Get away, bastard!" My knight in shining armor bursts through the doors and instantly grabs the pressing iron at the corner of the room. "Bastard!" He chanted as he hit him in the head multiple times before the victim bolted out of the house completely. I didn't realize I'd been sobbing. "Yellow pawpaw, are you okay?" Scorpion settled beside me, checking on my welfare. My mind was semi static. "JB tried to steal from me and rape me." I mumbled.

She moved with difficulty, the exertion and the pain of her wounds making her joints ache. ​Emiliano ignored the sheet. He looked at the discarded nightgown on the floor, torn and useless. He then looked at the bruises—the visible scars of the man he had just erased from her life. ​"The physical damage is temporary," he stated, his voice clinical, almost medical. "But the mental conditioning is deep. You flinch; you submit out of fear. This must end." ​He walked to a sleek, modern chest of drawers and retrieved a small, silver first aid kit. He returned to the bed and sat down heavily on the edge, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. He opened the kit, pulling out a tube of specialized a

"I thought the Herald was gone." "He is." Kieran reached for the blade at his back. "But someone else just crossed the wards." A voice answered from the doorway, low and too familiar. "Then I suppose my timing is perfect." Priscilla froze. Kieran stiffened, hand tightening on the hilt. "Nikolai." The man stepped into the corridor with the elegance of a predator. Cloaked in obsidian robes, his hair swept back, face marked by a scar Priscilla had only heard about. The Scar of the Broken Vow. The reminder of the night he betrayed the royal bloodline.