Chicano Gangster Letters Novels & Stories

Alexander I stopped the car when Jay, Charlie, and James surrounded it. They really wanna die. I came out of the car. "Who's she?" Charlie asked me. He is the leader of their so-called gang. "Does that matter to you?" I was not in the mood for any fight. "Oh? She's another slut of you I guess" That was it. I took out my gun and shot him in his chest. They were terrified. They thought I'd not carry a gun to school. They are really stupid.

You could have shot that idiot and nothing would have happened. -You're a nasty, G- I murmured. –And on top of that, you don't help me with the book. I have to finish it the sooner the better. And I have to change the names of everyone, otherwise, everyone will know that it is an autobiography and we cannot make the existence of the mafia public.

POV: ELI Godric had told him once, on his deathbed: I've done godawful things. My only regret is that I won't live long enough to pay for all of them. Eli had not understood it then. He understood it now. He spread the three pages across the kitchen table and read the provenance of the Scarface chip from the beginning. Johnny Torrio, Chicago, 1939. Al Capone's mentor. Held the chip until he died in a barber's chair of cardiac arrest.

Chapter 12: A Crack In The Armor LUCIAN’S POV I leaned back in the leather chair of the private room at El Toro Negro, a seedy warehouse-turned-meeting-spot on the outskirts of Chicago, my eyes scanning the three non-English speaking, Hispanic men across the table.

A large headline was emblazoned on the front page: "BLOODY WAR BETWEEN GANGS OVER DRUG TRAFFICKING RIGHTS. THIRTY MEMBERS OF EMERGING GANG KILLED IN TWO DAYS. GANG ANNIHILATED. BRUTAL MURDERS." Below the headline was a large, pixelated graphic photo. Despite the pixelation, it wasn't difficult to make out evidence of a gunfight, bodies in cars, and corpses lying on blood-soaked asphalt. Below the photo, details about Colombia, drugs, smuggling, drug cartels, and speculation about Hispanic gang involvement with expectations of bloody revenge were listed. "The cleanup was also very neat. Don Cariello will be very pleased," Alberto praised, patting Leo's shoulder. "Thank you," Leo smiled. It se

“First, there’s bad news. And then there is good news, which also has bad news wrapped inside it.” “Fine. Start with the bad news.” “Don Castellano's family sent a letter,” Jake said, his voice dropping into a serious, formal tone. He slid a heavy white envelope across the mahogany surface. It was stained with unmistakable smears of dried blood and stamped with the elaborate wax seal of the Castellano crime family. Sending a letter like this in this day and age was so tacky, a cheap power play meant to intimidate. I already knew exactly what the brutal content would say before I even broke the seal, but I picked it up anyway, my claws slicing right through the paper.

Tommy cries. "Now, now, Tommy boy, we all know what would ever happen to my wife, if you got your hands on her, you and your gang members will have raped her and made her die a slow death. Do you think I will have any mercy on you? I have seen what street gangs do to beautiful women like my wife. It is too late for you to regret what you were going to do to my wife. Now be a big boy and take your punishment like you should. You see how I lack mercy. I have to admit, I feel a little sorry for you, because you did not believe that the Italian Mafia is like the Mafia of old. Oh, you gang members are so ignorant. You believe the fairy tales that we are white collar criminals, but they didn't tel

African-American gangs, in particular, pick up guns and never aim them. They hit on faith. Chicano gangs are a little better, but only so good. Had it been a well-trained Italian family gang, or a hard-driving Asian gang, Li Jie would have walked away alive today. The other side change magazine such a good opportunity, Li Jie naturally will not miss. From another ledge, one jumped right in around the four. If it's a melee, Li Jie isn't afraid of these guys at all. They don't look as good

“You sound a bit too relaxed.” “We are already the most feared gang in Chicago. What are we even using a book for? Blackmail?” I asked. I heard him sigh, “I knew I shouldn’t have handed over so soon. Your grandfather has done a lot in the past and I did a number of things during my time for the gang. Do you honestly think Avila won’t have our names somewhere in his stupid diary? Are you dumb?” He screamed. I gripped my phone angrily. I heard my mother’s voice in the background telling him to calm down and she had her own share of the anger handed to her.

“It’s the most violent Hispanic gang in the United States. It’s run by the Mexican Mafia. Shit, Gabby, how can you not even know what MS13 is?” With a shrug, I answered, “Well, clearly, I don’t run in the same circles as you.” “Fuck me,” he murmured, glancing around the hallway in confusion. “You really didn’t sic Mad Manny on me, did you?” “Umm, no.” I crossed my arms over my chest, ready for an apology. “I really didn’t. And I’m sure I couldn’t even afford one even if I did want to scare you off.” “No,” he said slowly before his eyes widened. “Maybe you couldn’t. But I’m sure that fancy, rich boyfriend of yours could.”