Cartel Tattoos Novels & Stories

You'd be nothing but a tomfool if you underestimate him because he has all of the most hidden information about the underworld in his cryptic brain. Don't judge a book by its cover, right? "Then you tell me." I raise my eyebrow and take a sip from my drink. "The tattoo is a sign of the Bratva and it indicates their loyalty to the mafia family. When they assign as a member of the mafia, they cosign their life to the Devil and get the tattoo. Only exclusive members, who have seen him, get the tattoo on the neck. But the others get it on their wrist." He murmurs and keeps serving the drinks to the people.

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

The heavy vault door opened enough for Cain to pull it open completely. He stepped into the steel hallway inside, doors similar to the one we'd just passed through lined each wall, stretching on as far as I could see. After every few doors stood men big enough to be linebackers. Some of them had buzzcuts, others had tattoos crawling up their arms to disappear under the Kevlar vest they wore. Scars marred a few of the men's faces and others were adorned with facial piercings. The shadows cast on their hardened faces by the fluorescent lighting above us were aggressive.

chest rising in a calm rhythm like he was meditating, not surrounded by criminals. Speaking of his tattoos, he's got the weirdest tats I have seen on any guy. His back bore the most outrageous tattoos in the history of tattoos. His back looked like someone had lost a wrestling match with a possessed octopus holding a tattoo gun. From shoulder to shoulder, the ink sprawled like a chaotic crime scene—tribal swirls, demonic curls, and angry squiggles that might’ve once meant something, but now just screamed, “I don’t pay taxes and I bite.”

She couldn't deny it--Mark was now asserting his dominance over her, and she was loving it. Mark sensed his plan was headed toward a successful end. He continued to smoke the cigar as he rolled up his right shirt sleeve, revealing the tattoo he had inked on his arm two days earlier. It was the word "DADDY" with a smoldering cigar underneath it. Mark thought he'd lost his mind when he had this permanent display put on his body. Now that he believed he was going to get what he wanted so desperately, he felt like a genius.

he fretted. “Your Mark, where is it?” Azrael queried again. Carter nodded as if he finally gets what the siblings were talking about, “You think I’m an immortal?” “You think you’re not?” Ouriel retorted back quickly with sardonic sentiment. “I’m not, really.” Carter replied, he put his hands up to his arm. Instead of a Mark, Azrael saw a dragon tattoo in his inner left bicep. “Look kid, you need to stop lying.” Ouriel demanded. Azrael glances at him.

“You’re certain Coral and Zane are from this cartel?” “Positive. If you flip through, you’d see their pictures.” I did as he said and examined the two siblings. “Remember you said they had a tattoo of a rose in between thorns? That’s the signature mark of the cartel.” They were standing together, hand in hand, with big smiles on their faces. The general description Kira gave matched the picture before me. I peered intently at Zane’s biceps in a sleeveless shirt and sure enough, the dreaded tattoo was there.

“Seven. And you run interference if the cartel starts flexing on our border runs. They’ve been eyeballing our coke lanes.” I tap the helmet against my thigh, thinking. Davina’s voice still echoes in my skull, Leather Lurker, please, but business is business. “Seven it is. Cartel shows teeth, we bite back. Hard. But if your boys start slinging on our turf without a nod, we burn the bridge. No warnings.” King nods slow. “Done. Ink it.” Queenie slides off the table, pulls a switchblade from her boot, and carves a quick CK + FG into the wood. “Sealed in blood and oak,” she says, licking a drop off the blade. “Now, who’s buying the first round?”

I was finally rid of all her exes, the other I had ordered a hit on, even after I promised not to I could not help it, he had his hands on what is mine, there was no other judgment for him. I walked over to the station set up for members of the cartel. The beach was owned by the cartel, and almost everyone who decided to come here for relaxation or a cover for an alliance was directly or indirectly under Raphael. The second Thierry and his foolish girlfriend were dead the moment they decided to come here. Once I got to the station for drinks, I knocked on the counter and immediately, a head popped up before standing fully to reveal a woman in a sleeveless shirt revealing the tattoo of the c

Then, I saw him standing by a door to a room, or somewhere. He had taken off his shirt. His upper body appeared bigger. They were tattoos all over his back, his trousers hung low on his waist, dangerously low. I could run my hands through this type of body all day without getting tired. He was receiving a phone call. He was immensely focused. I stood still, waiting for him to finish. His words didn’t make sense at first, until it got to the part where he said: “She doesn’t know a thing. I have it all under control… In the end everything will be mine.” His words made me tremble.