Bartolomeo Ship Novels & Stories

“They all state that trades were happening the same day of the arson six years ago, and the attack over a week ago.” Enzo scoffed a laugh. “You seem to have forgotten something really important, my young Lord,” he said. “Encford is a city of trade. Countless ships come and ago everyday twenty-four-seven. What proof do you have that it was one of my ships?” Merrick held up a photograph he had in his hands as if he had been anticipating Enzo’s response. “Look at the size of the ship recording to arrive at eight in the morning.” “The ship arrived in Glaham the day of the arson,” he continued. “It never appeared again. Until the day of the banquet.”

Suspiciously similar names. Francis Knight, merchant, came to London in the year 1524. François Chevalier, marchand de soie, fait son apparition dans les registres de Paris en 1601. The name of Francisco Caballero, lord of the ships, flitted across the pages of a Barcelona ledger 1703. Francis Knight again, this time in Boston, 1801.

No one was left out. He wheeled me to the head of the table. The room went silent, as it always did when I entered. No toasts. No welcomes. Just eyes—calculating, cautious, and some, already guilty. Eugene cleared his throat first. “We’ve got a problem on the eastern docks. Salvatore’s crew intercepted a shipment meant for Lorenzo.” I didn’t move. Just watched. Salvatore grunted. “That shipment sat for two days. I don’t wait. If Lorenzo’s people can’t hold a schedule, that’s not my burden.”

The man asked with a smile, my panties dropped in shock. "Yes they are, by the way, he is Josh Qerno, a conductor of this ship, that big Fera in front of you is his Bosom Fera which is called Wind Capricorn." Introduction of Santos Esmeralda to the conductor of this ship and his Bosom Fera? What could that be? [BOSOM FERA- FAMILIARS] We bow as a sign of respect. "They are Sephtis Kali Picosa, Vita Guia Picosa, Lucian Picosa, the three of them are brothers, while the man behind them is Xavier Inugami Luzslo, their friend." Introducing Santos Esmeralda to us, the man bowed.

he started before glancing at Liana, who was shaking uncontrollably and My fidgeting father. “Don't you dare!” my father thundered aggressively. “We were much younger, Silvio was barely four or five, Mateo much younger when we overheard a plan, during the Spanish conquest, the old families gathered all of their wealth, into a large ship, they set out but the weight of the gold was too much that it sunk the ship” he paused before continuing. “So we set out all six of us, myself, Vincenzo, Liana, Lorenzo, Isabella and…”

She had sure underestimated him, she thought she taking a ship to the south will divert his attention. Instead he ordered for all ships that sailed the saw to return back to the capital. The ship captains had received the massage through a pigeon and had turn the ship around because failure to do so means death and the baron is someone feared even more than the king is feared. With fear they had turned the ship around and headed back to the capital. People who didn't know why they were returning back protested.

She noticed the gap the one port too insignificant to watch closely, yet perfectly positioned for interception. “She’s not just inside,” Bianca said. “She’s already taken one of your keys.” Matteo stared at her, his fury tempered by something else: respect. “Then we’ll take it back.” The message came not through whispers, but through fire. At dawn, word reached them: Romano ships had gone up in flames off the coast of Italy. An entire fleet, reduced to burning wreckage. Smoke spiraled across the sea, carrying the scent of ruin. Bianca and Matteo stood together on a cliff overlooking the water, the horizon blackened with smoke.

Not a man of authority, but one placed where information passed through him. A conduit. When I looked back at him, he was already shaking his head slightly, like he could undo what was coming. "You have five seconds." Bartolomeo swallowed hard. His lips parted, but nothing came out at first. Then his eyes moved again, quick and desperate to the right. To Carlo. I didn't even bother looking at him this time because I already knew. "I didn't, I swear. I didn't mean to." Now, that was it.

“WHEN YOU GET TIRED OF THIS WORD COME AND FALL IN MY ARMS.” Dante's POV The call from Nico comes through just as I'm finishing up a conference call with the Benedetti family in Milan. "Boss, it's done." I step out onto the balcony, closing the study door behind me. "All of it?" "All of it." Nico's voice is satisfied. "Sixteen Russian vessels. Bombed. Sunk. The Bratva is scrambling to figure out what happened."

Five of them, including Milllicent, raised their guns, while the last guard turned around, walking towards the captain's cabin where they all came from. Despite being solely at the receiving end of five different guns, Vladislav still didn't lower his. He didn't move, didn't shift. Instead, his gaze remained solely trained on Bartholomew. From behind him, I scanned every corner of the ship—there was no escape. None at all. The only way was to cut through Bartholomew's men and his defenses, take control of the ship, and then steer it wherever we wanted. But the chances of that happening were less than twenty percent.