The Man In The Iron Mask Novels & Stories

The man wasn't even my father but yet he still betrothed me out to someone. I became speechless and confused. How did I even get here, where was Armani, Grace and poor little Colleen. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Who the heck was this man. "Who are you?" I asked, finally finding my voice. I so much wished to see his face but the mask was hiding it, I could only see his dark eyes through two of the holes on the mask. I could see his lips that jutted out of one of the space in the masks. His black long hair was reaching his back, the face behind that mask must be really good looking.

Something about the way Mrs Lena kept insisting that there was someone there with her in that room worried him. Could she be hallucinating about the masked man that’d kidnapped her daughter, or what if—she's really telling the truth, and there is someone in there with her? What if Lena isn’t going insane? What if we are the crazy ones for not seeing what she sees? The thought sent cold chills down his spine, causing him to shiver. But then something didn’t seem right. Is something like this even possible? An invisible man? Who is this masked man, really? Why does he choose to hide behind a mask with a C mark carved on it? Does this letter hold any meaning? How is T-Murek related to this mask

Ava's stomach turned. "Then what am I?" Marcus smiled. "The bridge." --- A loud metallic sound echoed through the corridor. CLANG. Everyone turned. One of the security doors opened. A man stepped out. He was dressed in black. His face was hidden beneath a mask. But there was something familiar about the way he walked. Ava immediately raised her weapon. "Who are you?" The man stopped. Marcus smiled. "You're early." The masked man looked at him. "You said she would be alone."

Everything screamed and ran, but I had nothing to lose. “This way.” The masked man said. I walked behind him, giving me time to assess the man. He was very tall, bald, had this Russian accent, and gave off a mafia aura. His hands were crossed behind him, revealing a colored tattoo. A dragon or a snake? I couldn't really tell, but whatever it was, it had scales. We finally entered the warehouse; it was practically empty, with only two chairs and a table in the middle. The whole place felt cold, like an old Russian interrogation room devoid of any weapons or signs of life.

The envelope remained firmly in his hand. Lucien stood several feet away. Alone. Exactly as requested. The image looked wrong. Dangerous. Like a trap. Vivienne immediately stepped closer to the screen. Victor's jaw tightened. Neither seemed surprised. Which meant they recognized something. Or someone. The masked man laughed. A low, distorted sound. Then he removed his mask. The room froze. Elara stared. The man looked to be in his late thirties. Dark hair. Sharp features. Expensive suit.

He hadn’t fully understood what that meant until now. Everywhere he looked, the ultra-elite were shedding their daytime restraint. In a shadowed corner near the main salon bar, a statuesque redhead in a feathered gold mask had her back pressed against the wall while a man in a black-on-black suit—Ken recognized him as a prominent hedge fund manager—kissed her throat with open-mouthed hunger. His hand moved under her long dress, fingers working skillfully as she bit her lip to stifle a moan. No one around them batted an eye. This was the Hamptons after dark. At this hidden mask party, the rules dissolved with the champagne.

Even the day he drove me back to the mansion from school felt different now. “Those bastards had always been keeping tabs on me,” I mumbled angrily. My finger kept swiping until I reached the last picture. “And who’s this man?” I asked Romy, pointing at the screen. The man’s face wasn’t visible. He stood facing Matthew and Mary while their backs leaned against Matthew’s truck. The mysterious guy had his back to the camera. A nose mask hung loosely over one ear. “That’s the man I told you about,” Romy said before taking a sip of her soft drink. “I couldn’t get his face no matter how hard I tried. He wore dark shades and that mask. He looked… powerful. Like someone important.”

My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked for Room 402, the sanctuary where I was supposed to meet the man I'd been flirting with all night through the safety of a disguise. I pushed open the heavy oak door at the end of the east wing. The room was bathed in the crimson glow of a single dim lamp. A man stood by the window, his back to me, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his black tuxedo. He wore a heavy, obsidian crow mask that obscured everything but a sharp, predatory jawline. "You're late," he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated in the very floorboards beneath my feet.

I said without looking at her. She exhales sharply but obeys—barely. The masked man tilts his head. “The infamous Carlino,” he calls out, voice deep, distorted slightly by whatever device he’s using. My men stiffen. I don’t. “You breached my gate,” I replied evenly. “You drove through my perimeter like a child begging for attention.” A soft chuckle echoes from behind the mask. “And yet, here you are.” He’s close enough now that I can see the way he carries himself. Confident. Trained.

Oliver went down first, and Jayden and I followed. ​Zerilliano's guards were waiting below. "Where's your boss?" I asked. They didn't speak. Instead, they just raised their eyebrows at us. They didn't move and just stood there, looking at us, as if waiting for something. From the main door of the house, the masked man came out. He was wearing an all-black tuxedo and pants, and white shoes covered in blood. ​His body shape is familiar. It looks like I've seen him before.