Mark Manio Novels & Stories

Mark is a tall and huge black skin guy in my gang, with a bald head, his hardened face would make anyone feel uncomfortable around him, he would never smile at anyone, sometimes I wonder if he was born that way or life mar him to be that way, he's like a hard nut to crack, he gazed at his wristwatch and nodded his head, Gwen walked to the door, she halted her step like she forgot something, she turns, running back to me, she hugged me tightly, laying her head on my chest, Ethan looked surprised at her but said nothing, I tapped her back, in an assuring manner "Thanks" I heard her say, she hurried her step and walked out of my office with Mark leading her way, I took in a deep breath, and wal

As I approached the desk, I nearly collided with someone stepping out of the elevator. "Mr Marino?" I gasped, my eyes widening in surprise. Don Vincenzo Marino stood before me, his commanding presence making the air feel heavier. Unlike Antonio's boyish good looks, there was something dangerous about Mr Marino's refined features; his gaze reminded me of the lions I'd seen at the zoo, beautiful but lethal. His eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, it felt like he could see every crack in my armor, every secret I was trying to hide.

That startled me, so I immediately went on guard. “What's going on?” asked Snow. “Who is this man and why is he being brought in like he's a hostage?” “Because he is,” said Ander. “This is Mark, the chief tracker of your pack.” Snow stepped back, and it was at that moment that the man looked at his mark, then at mine, and understanding flashed in his eyes. The move he made next left us confused. Mark bowed to Snow and began to recite a chant that made Snow shiver.

“Who?” “His name’s Rocco Mancini,” Marco said, his tone tense. “He’s been making moves in the shadows for months. He’s been working with some of the most dangerous people in the business, and now it looks like he’s ready to make his move on the Falcone empire.” Riccardo’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a fire that matched the heat of the sun rising behind them. “Mancini,” he muttered under his breath. “I should have known.”

My eyes scanned the room once more, ignoring the bodies swaying on the poles. I was waiting. Minutes passed. Maybe more. Time blurred in here. Then finally the man I’d come for stepped out of the shadows. Tall and Dressed in a fitted black suit, no tie, the kind of man who blended in. He wasn’t an Alpha. Not a wolf either but power hung around him. His name was Marco. A broker. One who dealt in information, in blood, in secrets that made and broke families. I hadn’t seen him in months but he was the reason I’d dragged myself back here today.

“Talk.” “We traced one of the dead men from last night. The one you dropped during the attack.” Dante’s eyes widened. “And?” “He’s not connected to Mark,” Marco said. “Not even indirectly.” Dante leaned back slowly. “Explain.” “No financial ties. No political overlap. No shared contacts. He was clean. Too clean.” Everywhere became quiet instantly. “That doesn’t make sense,” Dante said. Marco shook his head. “There’s more. The tattoo on his wrist.”

“How was it possible for my father to be working with a man like him? If you claim that he is as dark as…?” “Your father worked with those who we benefited from. No matter what the reason was, the price was, who the person was, and what they did. Bartolomeo has functioned himself to shut his humanity off a long time ago.” Mario said, answering her. She shook her head, clearly wanting to refuse believing what her grandfather was telling her. And I had to admit, even I was both confused and baffled by what we were learning when it came to what Cosimo was doing, and I knew the darkness that my father was often willing to have.

Mark takes up the microphone, and it honks out a loud, shrill BEEEEEEEPPPPP. “Testing, testing,” he says into it. The room quiets. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is one of the most special Halloween parties we’ll ever have,” he announces. “We’re celebrating Damion’s 21st birthday — and one hell of a season.” Our eyes meet. I grin. He drops his hand with the mike to his chest as if thinking what to say next. Mark was one of the best racers of his time, and now he’s probably the best manager/coach out there.

Alonzo’s limousine sped away into the night. “Are you okay?” Markos asked, his tone softer now. I nodded, though my hands were still shaking. The thought that something could have happened was appalling. “Thank you. I don’t know what he was planning, but it didn’t feel right.” Markos’s expression hardened. “Alonzo is a sex trafficker, Hazel. You need to be careful.” I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “How do you know?” He didn’t answer me. Instead, he opened the passenger door for me and gestured for me to enter. The tension between us was palpable, the silence was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

she finished and those amber eyes went to the place I was to also remain immobile before my incredulous gaze. “What did you say your name was?” I asked a few decibels above my regular voice. “Oh, Mark! So good you came, you were the only one missing.” I heard the voice of Kristopolis somewhere in the room, but my eyes were still locked with the woman’s who was a few meters from me, noting how pale she went when she heard my name. “Mark?” she said in a whisper. “Yes... Marcus Sanders.” confirmed Paul looking at her with worry eyes “he is the owner of the company and promoter of the campaign that you will develop… Are you okay?”