Chicago Ruthless Series Novels & Stories

"You're the only one I want." Then, before I can even breathe—his t*ngue finds me. I cry out, hands flying to his hair. "Ughhh, ohhhhh, fu...f*ck...Ru...ruth..hmmmm..." The first stroke is slow, torturous, like he's savoring every second. Then, he does it again. And again. My knees almost buckle. Ruther's grip tightens, locking me in place, his fingers digging into my fl*sh. "Stay still," he commands against me, the vibration of his voice sending shivers straight through my core.

"Very well. I'm here to offer you a deal." "I don't make deals with ghosts." "Harsh, little brother," Marcus chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. "Especially since I'm offering you the chance to save your new wife from becoming collateral damage." Isabella's breath caught in her throat. "Explain," Alexander demanded, his voice deadly quiet. Marcus swirled his drink, studying the amber liquid. "You've been digging into old business—Shanghai properties, certain offshore accounts. It's making people nervous."

I stood up and headed towards the television set, avoiding her eyes. Leaning against the wall, the tv came to life. "Shit Cheryl." Steph was on her feet racing to off the tv when a particular line stopped her, just like it slit through me. "They believe FH hideout is in Chicago." A reporter said. I stalk over to the front of the screen, just beside Steph, whose breathing was hyperventilating.

Hence he tried by all means to handle the matter calmly "Mr. Garcia…I'm sure you know how critical this matter is…your sister had a series of crimes piling up…how is that possible that you didn't know what she was into"detective Jones said arching his brows at Luciano. He was surprised mainly because they posed to be a virtuous family

“Until Alessandro ratted him out to the police.” Chicago was a funny place. Nobody knew who was what until they have the leverage. Politicians, law enforcement, mafia were in bed together for decades, and yet neither of them could stand each other. You can either have loyal friends or arch-rivals—there was nothing in between. “He was trying to cut your legs off?” I asked. Alessandro was smart; the only time he came after a rival when he knew the person has no defense left. He would destroy the barriers one after the other and then go for the final kill—a perfect destroyer in every sense.

Misha I took my blue lenses off and, blinking to meet my clear brown gaze, undressed and cleared out my heavy make-up. The makeup always itches. I cleansed my smooth, olive-skinned face and took a shower. I slip on a bathrobe after drying myself and step out of the bathroom. They don't even have slippers under here; well, what can you expect for an average motel room? I dried my hair and put the towel on the chair. Putting my glasses back on, I opened my laptop and made myself comfortable on the bed. Brasove, the Russian mafira, damns them. I caught the last cyber signal from Jack here in Chicago, but now God knows where he is. While I put background software on to get any digital trace, my

If this continues, I might be forced to haunt down this half-brother of mine. A hand pressed to my temple, i force down the pain piercing my head me. "Since he refuses to learn. Put the cops on his tail. Turn the Bravata against him." That should keep his hand full until I am ready to deals with the fucker. "Yes, boss." The three men responds in unison. We continue discussing our next shipment. After Father's death, I stopped the shipment of drugs and women, my focus is on weapons. Guns, bombs. The mafia cannot do without my shipment, and Mikhail knows it.

PAST The tension was palpable as four mafia bosses sat facing each other in the hall, seething and trading accusations, their hands poised to grab their guns if necessary. A fragile peace had held sway for seven years, sustained by lucrative business deals and treaties. It was a peace born of a shared desire to spare their children the fear of losing loved ones, a desire spearheaded by Leonardo Moretti, the founder of this uneasy alliance. However, with Moretti's death, the group's cohesion was on the brink of collapse.

“Nightroe is indeed a mafia boss. But when it comes to family, my father won’t just stand by and do nothing. And since that bastard truly felt guilty, he didn’t do anything to fight back.” Moved. That was probably how Svanna felt. However, there was one important thing. She was more convinced that this was going too far. Russol Sullivan’s bodyguards shouldn’t have targeted Nightroe’s hand as a form of extra punishment, even though she wasn’t sure—whether they were the ones who did it or not. And without hesitation, she asked again, “What did they do to Nightroe’s hand?” This time, Orlando shrugged indifferently. Until she realized that her father-in-law’s bodyguards wouldn’t do anything wors

"Do not ever test my patience by asking for a second chance when you put my son in danger." Maren felt a profound chill race down her spine as she witnessed the true depth of his ruthless authority. He was destroying a man's livelihood over a chaotic situation she had caused by insisting on leaving the penthouse against their advice. She could not stand by and watch another innocent person suffer under the crushing weight of his dictatorial rules.