Black Protagonist Novels & Stories

Being gangsters, these people should have expected to be killed, but at whose hands. And these gangsters are not good birds. Real gangsters aren't as elegant as Marlon Brando's Godfather movies. The real American mob is a bunch of murderous, cannibalistic, bone-spitting bastards. Finally, the old black did not escape Li Jie's chase, Li Jie caught up with him from his position in the heart of the direct blast out of a punch. A blow with internal force to the common man is completely irresistible. Old black

--- Looking. Observing. Calculating. --- Then suddenly— --- A different set of headlights appeared. --- From the opposite direction. --- Several black vehicles accelerated toward the scene. --- Fast. Aggressive. --- The approaching gunmen immediately reacted. --- Confused. --- Uncertain. --- The lead vehicle stopped abruptly. --- The rear door opened. --- A tall figure stepped out. --- Adrian Blackwell. --- The future Mafia King. --- His expression remained unreadable. --- Calm. Cold. Dangerous.

All eyes were on me. “Execution?” I laughed, looking at my wine glass. “What a waste. I don't want his corpse. I want every drop of his blood to replicate his process. Imagine an army of ten thousand men with the strength of Subject Zero. The human world, the Council... everyone on their knees.” “But he won't let himself be caught, Alpha” intervened an informant sitting at the end of the table. “Killian Blackwood lives in a fortress. He passes himself off as a professor and a tycoon. He is protected.”

They exploded. BOOM. Dust and debris rained down. A figure stepped through the smoke. He was massive. He wore armor made of blackened steel that seemed to absorb the torchlight. On his back was a greatsword the size of a grown man. His face was scarred, his eyes the color of storm clouds. He wasn't a hero. He didn't glow. He looked like a walking war crime. The Mercenary. The Black Wolf. Vespera didn't stand up. She sipped her tea.

Phoenix The air in the black market was thick with the scent of desperation and greed, a mingling of sweat, smoke, and the sharp tang of illicit transactions. Phoenix Eadmaer Koznetsov, ex-military captain and now the formidable head of La Nera Bratva, navigated the labyrinthine alleys with the ease of a man who had long ago made his peace with the shadows.

This was the grammar of the empire he had joined. He sat on the edge of the bed, the city’s lights a distant, mocking constellation. He was no longer Jay the agent. He was not yet Jay the consort. He was something in-between, a creature being forged in the cold fire of Rafael Bianchi’s world. And as he began to memorize the sins of the first man on the list, he understood one thing: his vengeance against Park would not be an act of rebellion. It would be his graduation.

“I am going to reject you… and you, Alpha, are going to accept it…” *********************************** Marcel was bred to be a weapon. A fighter. An executioner. The Alpha sent where rogues needed to be destroyed. He never questioned it. Rogues were chaos. A stain on wolfkind. They were not to be protected, only eliminated. And he would never mate one. Until his wolf chose her. She is everything he was meant to end. A rogue with no pack, no protection, and no place in his world. The bond ignites against his will, only for her to be the one to reject…

The captives scrambled back in terror, falling to the ground, bowing low, hands shaking. Xareth approached the man, who was now convulsing, drowning in his own blood. With a smooth, practiced motion, Xareth drove his sword through the man’s chest. The crowd gasped. “Mercy,” Xareth said, wiping the blade on the grass. “He was already dead. I only saved him the suffering.” Silence fell. “One of you killed him because of greed,” Xareth said coldly. “I simply put him out of his misery. And yet… you all look at me like I’m the villain.”

We have been receiving threats from other ambitious alphas wanting to come and claim the king's seat. I am not about letting anyone take what rightfully belongs to me, to Richard my son. That is the only reason I had not killed that useless fool. Should anything thing happen to the king before I complete the rituals, then we are doomed. Richard left reluctantly slamming the door behind him, after giving a final suspicious look from Black to me, "I heard you were worried," Black said as he walked casually around the office. Black has very strong and intimidating personality traits. He is tall with even-toned abs that have been heavily adorned in tattoos. every nerve in his body seems to flex

I'm relieved to know they're content today and I will rest in peace in my grave. "Finally, I want you to know that I never regret any of my actions, including murdering your father, He first betrayed me by choosing your mother, and I will never regret killing your boss Camilla because no one dares to mess with the King of the Black Mafia, Salvador Epiphora." He said, and I told the guard to use the same machine he used on my father for him. Even in the end, Salvador never regretted what he did, and killing him was the only option left. Once a monster, always a monster.