Novel & Cerita Cartel Tattoos

It was a black dragon with wings, surrounded by black roses. “You have a weird tattoo,” I commented out of the blue. He lowered his gaze to his forearm. “All members of the Anderson Mafia have this kind of tattoo. It serves as our identification.” I fell silent, staring at it intently. For some unknown reason, that symbol is familiar to me. I tried to dig into my memory to recall where I’d seen that tattoo before, but it only caused my head to ache, prompting me to rub my temples. Cole quickly attended to me.

As long as it wouldn't hurt anyone. I got Max's call after a few minutes. Walking away from the men who were mopping the floor, I took the call. “Any news?” “Yes, my alpha. The tattoo belonged to the men of the Scorpion Syndicate. That's their symbol mark. It's of a skull being pierced by an axe and an arrow prodding from its left eye. I can't be wrong about that.” “I see.”

But he was still anticipating seeing what would be his next move. Carson just placed his hand right over the blanket covering his hard rock dick. He had his one leg was stretched straight and other was bent inside... He was looking no less than a sexy model. Displaying his tattoos. Only Carson among the three had tattoos on his body. His arm had a black band; his right leg had an ANCHOR right above his ankle and not to forget the DEVIL TRYING TO CATCH HIS NIPPLE. Well it was a devil printed on his chest above his left nipple extending his hand as in to grab his nipple.

Picking up my glass, I lightly sipped my alcohol, the stinging liquid coursing through my body. “We have, huh?” I said, putting my glass down with an intensity that made some of the stuff spill out. “Look at these pictures. Notice their hands. They all have the same tattoo on their hands… like the head of a cat or lizard. That must mean something. Find out the mafioso faction or any group with these types of tattoos and get back to me.” “Yes, boss,” he said, standing. He bent to pick up the pictures but I stopped him.

And a man in gloves holding a tattoo needle. Jacob spun. “What the hell is this?” Leo stepped in behind him, the door clicking shut. “Every man in my inner circle is marked. You’re married to me now. You don’t get to walk around with a clean canvas.” “You’re branding me?” Leo’s voice dropped. “I’m claiming you.” Jacob took a shaky step back. “That’s psychotic.” “No,” Leo said calmly. “It’s permanent.” The tattoo was small. Simple. A black line through the Greek letter Omega, right below his collarbone, just far enough to hide under a shirt, just close enough to remind him he belonged to a killer.

The ones lined around and up his arms were normal. But the ones the crawled up to his back, shoulders and neck didn’t look ordinary. On the side of his back, crossing to his shoulder and a certain path that crawled up to his neck looked like a chained bird that got loose. That loose chain was the crawling one on his neck. “What does this tattoo mean?” I asked, hoping he’d answer me. Martil sighed, puffing smoke into the room. “It’s an Omertà.” “What’s that?” The name itself sounded strange.

“So do you have the tattoos?” I can’t help from running my eyes over his chest. I’m not sure why I’m disappointed when he shakes his head. “I have many tattoos but they are all hidden. I need to maintain the bland businessman portrayal. They are also not in the old style of your body being your testimony of deeds. My father would not allow it—too easy for the Feds to take note, then try and pin crimes to us. So I have a lion of our name, the same as my brothers. As well as several I like.” A small, wicked smile. “I was surprised to find your tattoo. Although I guess I should not have been.”

“First, I need you to sign these. Please read through them carefully and let me know if anything needs to be changed or added.” As she reached across the table, I noticed a small tattoo on her wrist, partially hidden by her leather watch strap. A flaming skill above two crossed pistols - the Warriors logo. As I sat forward to begin reading the documents, I couldn’t help but wonder how deep Kat’s connection to the club actually ran. ——————————— Talon I walked into the garage, nodding at a few of the guys working on bikes. The familiar sounds and smells of grease and metal helped ground me as my mind continued to reel with thoughts of Laura.

The tattoo was more than just an ordinary tattoo; it was a rank, "these guys have been in and out of prison, and the dollar sign was a ranking of twenty-six. The number twenty-six was high ranking amongst other prisoners, indicating they do not fear returning to prison. The guy with the tattoo, who was six feet grabbed Jimmy and pushed him to the window, then removed his gun. The train stopped by the next station, and people ran out as the train reached a standstill. "Hey, man, let him go." Said Joey; the other two men, surprisingly, also had guns; Joey had noticed the tattoo of the other two guys; one was a rapist and the other a killer.

Grainy footage played—hallways, timestamps, static. Then she saw her mother. Isabel Varela—once fierce, once unstoppable—was being dragged through a corridor by two masked men. She was limp, bloodied. But alive. Amara leaned in. One of the men turned toward the camera for half a second. Just enough to glimpse a familiar tattoo peeking out from beneath his collar. A coiled serpent. Her breath stopped. That was not one of Milo’s men. That tattoo belonged to the Santorini Cartel.