Scorpion Without His Mask Novels & Stories

‘THIS PERSON. Carefully studying the hunter and not underestimating the seemingly ordinary henchman of Ivy. She sniffs twice and in the third henchmen's direction and confirmed that he reeks of the smell of blood. Although wearing a mask with his eyes is the only one that Cath could see, added by his layers of black clothes. One distinct feature that captures Cath’s attention, is the scar on his right eye which is big enough to see behind the shadow that is casting his eyes from the cap that he is wearing. ‘THAT SCAR. I HAVE SEEN IT SOMEWHERE. WHO IS THIS PERSON?’

quipped Virando with his stabbing and killing eyesight. Virando emitted his blue light towards the scorpion demon. The dark brown and the blue lights carried on hitting and smiting each other in the air. The scorpion demon took out his maximum whole power to beat Virando. He went on forcing and forcing his dark brown light towards Virando. Meanwhile, Virando was merely seen relaxed in emitting his blue light. From his huge relaxed facial expression, he wasn’t seen having taken out much of his power.

After they tried hard to sense the man's Internal Breath, they looked even more surprised because there was no fluctuation of Internal Breath from the man. They had thought that the man was a mysterious and powerful expert, but now, they felt it hard to tell the man's power. "Boy, who are you?" Cancer asked again. Chu Xun remained silent. "Fu*k! How dare you, a silly boy who came from nowhere, put on airs in front of us?" Scorpio, standing behind Cancer, spoke up. He had an evil aura and a huge scorpion tattoo, with the scorpion's head on his chest and scorpion's tail wound around his neck. The tattoo looked chilling.

There never existed two people in the world with vocals like Marchesa. Marcelo swept back the hair that stood in his eyes, brought his mask down to his neck. A vicious look on his face. But Marconi knew he couldn't demonstrate fear at that moment. Ever since he opted for that seat, Marcelo coming back had been his biggest nightmare; especially when he put a price on his head. Now, the devil was here, looking bruised and bartered from every corner but the look in his eyes could have had Lucifer himself running. He looked soulless.

But Silco doesn’t comment on that. “The file is on the table,” Scar lifts her chin at the table, “it will put Ava Fuller behind bars for one to two years, if you can crack them within three days.” “At your command, princess,” Silco takes off his hat for an exaggerated bow to tease her before he hands over that hat to the maid, along with his suit and his cane. But not the mask. He is always with the mask, in front of everyone. Scar hates it, more today. She longs for the warmth in his eyes, and she wonders if the mask would reveal more of those. She is in particular need of that today.

I clutched at the edge of the dining table for support, but it felt like the ground was slipping away beneath me. The room began to spin, the walls closing in around me. I struggled to breathe, the air thick with the scent of fear and blood. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision, threatening to engulf me entirely. With trembling hands, I reached out for something, anything to hold on to, but my strength failed me. As the world blurred into shadows, the last thing I remembered was the scorpion tattoo on the masked man's wrist.

The GPS chip in my hand is already somewhere on his clothes. We get of off each other and took our stance. I throw my glow stick on my arm at him. He's wearing a face mask. But I can still make out his feature. Sharp jaw, tanned skin, dirty blonde hair, and muscular built. Me alone have no chance against him. But it doesn't matter, my job is done. The masked guy cowered seeing Scout arrived followed by Kelly and Sunny. He turns around and continues running for his life. Scout tried to chase after him, but I hold unto him.

His body twisted, legs kicking wildly, but I stayed planted on top of him, knives buried into the pavement through his hands. Hell yeah, fucking crucified. I reached down and ripped off his mask. That’s when I saw him and recognition slammed into me. Not because of his face, but because of what was inked just beneath his jawline. A faded scorpion, curling its tail along the side of his neck. Lombardi. My jaw flexed. I grabbed him by the throat with one blood-slicked hand and squeezed, "You're not just some street dog, are you?" I hissed. "You’re branded. Marked. One of Rino's."

He held his phone and watched the video all night long. The next morning, when he looked in the mirror, he saw a man who looked like a vagrant—unshaven, haggard, and lifeless. He stared at his own reflection and muttered bitterly, "You deserve this." … On the day of my wedding, all my college classmates showed up, including Tristan. At first, I was worried he would cause trouble again. I didn't want to be disturbed by him anymore. Even with my good temper, I couldn't stand being constantly tangled up in his drama.

“Wait for me here. It won’t be long.” I watched them discuss as if I was just a chicken about to be slaughtered. The man pulled off his mask, revealing a hideous black scar that ran from his left eye to his jaw. My breath hitched, my body, shaking like a cat drenched in rain. “I…I don’t know you,” I stammered, my voice trembling. “I haven’t done anything against you. So why do you want me dead?”