A Pet For The Mafia Dons Novels & Stories

Jackie ignored her sister's warning glare and kept on going, "I heard it very clearly. They said the Lombardis had sought the Donaro brothers for help. You know the Donaros, right?" "You mean, the mafia?" I frowned. My mouth started to turn dry. I had a bad feeling about what was going to happen. Jackie nodded and said, "The Donaros are a bunch of scams. They are the worst of the worst. They can be hired for dunning or threatening people to move away from their houses. The Lombardis paid a lot of money to the Donaros. I think they're about to take action." "What?!" My heart sank. How am I supposed to fight against the mafia?

“I’m sorry, what?” “The Don. The head of the Virtus family. We call him Don.” I closed my eyes and counted to ten, then opened them and smiled politely. “So you’re saying that Don gave orders to throw away my things?” “We do as the rules say, Madam,” she replied with the same smile. And the old anger was renewed. Oh, that mafia is going to get shit from me for discarding my clothes, my beauty products, my shoes, and, most importantly, my family photo album.

That's what the Mafia do, right? I can practically feel the fury rolling from Diego. He clenches his jaw tightly, his nostrils flaring with the promise of revenge. "Notify Quincy's family. Tell them I'm covering the funeral cost and we'll all be in attendance." His voice, deep and harsh, reverberates like a growl, mirroring the simmering anger beneath the surface. "We will get vengeance and find out what they want with my pet. Even if I have to rip off every nail, pull every tooth, slice into every inch of his body." Even though it isn't directed towards me, the malice in his voice churns my blood into sleet.

CHAPTERCHAPTER 140 : ( In the middle of nowhere. ) Jackson walked into the room and bowed before the Mafia Don. "Tell me." "Everything's ready as you instructed." He reported. The Mafia Don relaxed into his chair and puffed out smoke from the cigarette in his slender fingers, one which ladies oh-so-frequently swooned at. "Your pawns are in position and are ready to strike. But I don't get one thing, Don.'' Jackson pointed out with a bit of hesitation.

The child I held on to let out a cry, calling my attention that I was gripping his arm too hard. I glared at him and felt guilty when he whimpered. Poor kid didn’t deserve my anger. The man who ought to bear the brunt of it all, stood a few meters away, nodding at something some dude was bragging about. How could the public believe that someone as cold and heartless as that was donating to orphanages and doing charity? It was obviously a front. All pretense just so he could continue his shady mafia dealings right under the noses of everyone. “What the hell is that smell?” A very familiar nasty voice that I had come to hate almost as much as I hated Luciano’s annoying face.

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"Sell her to him?" "Would he get married to someone from a smaller mafia gang?" Caterina’s eyes hardened. "Dante wouldn't touch a smaller mafia group even if his hand was cut from his body. Untested men who just became mafia dons, yes. But a smaller group...? Never." The bile rose in my throat as Caterina’s words sank in. My mother had bartered away my sister's life for her own selfish gain. To a man who would never even care about her.

Alora's POV Luciano—my big brother—always told me to stay out of trouble. My whole life, I had been shielded from dangerous situations. And now, I just managed to drive myself into the most dangerous one of all. "You’re in the Mafia now, Alora." My breath caught in my throat. "Mafia?" I blinked, struggling to process his words. "You’re telling me that Gianni… you’re all… in the Mafia?" Dante sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes.I am Dante Bellini, Don of the Italian Mafia."

“Well done, Macholo. You’ve handled today well. Now, where’s the dog? I want to see this new... asset.” Macholo turned to the door, giving a sharp whistle. Another Mafia member entered, leading the Australian shepherd on a leash. The dog looked clean, with beautiful black, white, and tan fur. The Don stood, walking over to the dog, who didn’t flinch as he approached. “Beautiful,” The Don muttered. “This one will serve us well.” He looked back at Macholo. “You did good today. But remember; stay cautious. The more success we have, the more attention we attract.”

He had planted three small flowers—crooked, half-wilted—and stood proudly over them. “They’re alive,” he declared. Selena snorted. “Barely.” The Don joined them, watching quietly as Rafe tried to convince her that he was now a gardener. When she bent down and adjusted one of the stems, dirt smudging her fingers, the Don crouched beside her, brushing soil off her cheek with his thumb. “You fit here,” he said softly. Her chest squeezed. “In a garden?” “In our world,” he murmured. Rafe leaned on the shovel, grinning. “Well, look at us. Breakfast, flowers, sunshine. Who knew mafia life came with a side of domestic bliss?”