Scarred Novels & Stories

The sound of glass shattering explodes through the room. We all jerk and see Scar, his hand, bleeding. He’s crushed the wine glass in his bare palm. Blood drips down onto the table. But it’s his eyes that freeze me. Dark not just with anger. Not just with pain. But with something deeper. Hatred.

A doctor ran a few quick tests, frowning as he scrolled through the results. “Miss,” he said, brows drawn tight. “You really should’ve taken better care of yourself. The stitches have torn open, and the wound looks infected.” “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn’t think it was that serious.” The doctor sighed and handed me a clipboard. “We’ll need to operate. Emergency surgery to remove the infected tissue. It’s standard. But we’ll need a signature—from you, or from someone responsible for you.” I hesitated. Tom was already in Italy, settling in.

I never liked people getting too close to me. It might have been my survival instincts and trust issues, but I'm used to people being cruel. With both my parents gone, years of surviving as a lone wolf taught me to expect only the worst in humans. Kindness isn't something I see every day. Scar watches me as I wrap up the cuts around my hand with a white cloth. As his name says, he has quite a glaring scar that runs from his left eye to the side of his jaw. His bare chest shows numerous tattoos and battle marks. A leather belt hangs on his waist, securing a pair of cargo pants.

He glanced at my stomach. “Does it hurt?” “No.” “Don’t lie. Last time, holding it made you collapse.” “It’s nothing,” I said, hiding the truth. That scar was a permanent reminder even with the blood tie broken, Beta Kyle’s mark lingered. Kael’s crimson eyes narrowed. “Scars fade. Think of it as a survivor’s wound.” “A survivor’s wound?” I echoed, surprised. “It hurt. It left its mark. But look at you alive, standing, stronger than you know. You survived.”

But it’s enough. I reach out to grab a spool of black thread, my eyes falling on the exposed skin beneath the tape. My hand stops dead in mid-air. It’s a scar. But it isn't an injury from the pool, and it isn't a surgical mark. It is a brand. The scarred, raised flesh is shaped into a perfectly distinct, moon shaped crestent with three jagged, interlocking peaks that look like a mountain range, surrounded by a thick, circular border. It looks like it was burned into her skin with hot iron.

Lena Vale had no choice but to marry Damien Laurent. In exchange for her brother’s freedom and her crushing debts erased, she signed a cold contract with the ruthless billionaire. But when she overhears him planning to take their unborn child away, she runs. Five years later, Damien discovers the son he never knew existed, and the woman who vanished with him. What begins as a fight for custody quickly unravels into something far more dangerous. Long-buried family betrayals, forged evidence, and shocking secrets about Lena’s own mother surface, forcing Lena and Damien to confront the lies that tore them apart. As their son fights for his life, the lines between resentment, protection, a

"The ball is in your court. It still won't change the fact that I've scarred her for life. And neither you nor anyone else on this planet can undo what has been done." Adnan left him to bleed on the floor, taking his mother by the hand and pulling her out of the room. "Get your things," he said. "We're leaving." Her tears were silent. She'd thought that Yusuf would never again possess the power to make her cry. It was all she'd done during the early days of her marriage. But now, her tears weren't for her. She wept instead for what could have been. Her tears were those of remorse. She'd failed. As a mother and as a wife. To hear him say the things he'd said, s

I open the attachment. I am at a loss for words at with, I see. It's Amelie passed out being carried by Matt. He has slightly pulled back the collar of her shirt, showing a black and bloody scar where her Mate Mark was. This is what a Scarred One looks like. I am horrified that she had to go through that. I'm pissed Matt is holding her. I shouldn't be, but I am. I stop for a second and re-read his report. I look at the time she completed the ritual, around midnight. Her wolf was harmed in the process, and she was bleeding and injured. It was all the things Rose and Daisy said. I closed the attachment and sat back in my chair.

That song, was the mark that means the end of the game. She cried and cried her eyes out in joy. 'Thank god,' she said inside her heart. 'I have survived another day of the hunt.' —

I guess that’s why I have my scar, a reminder of the fact that I’ll never be as strong as I need to be. As strong as I want to be. Maybe I deserve the scar…. I-i know I deserve my scar it’s all my fault. I… I need to search the body. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, collected the supplies and got to my feet, stumbling backwards as my backpack settled on my shoulders.