Novel & Cerita Claimed By The Mafia Don

Gladis mutters, “You’ve got the hot Don all to yourself and now a secret admirer?” I frown. “What exactly does ‘Don’ mean, anyway?” She sighs like I’ve just asked why the sky is blue. “You see this building?” She gestures around the club. “And the others like it around town? Let’s just say they’re part of a… network. Don Rafaele runs the La Corona de Sangue mafia ring.” I blink, the words barely sinking in. “He’s not just some club owner. He’s one of the most powerful men in Sicily. Maybe the most powerful. Everyone knows who he is, but no one dares speak against him. People vanish for less.”

“You’re playing a game that’s older than you. Older than this club.” Blade snorted. “You keep talking like you’re some prophet. News flash—you’re just a rat who got caught.” Rafe’s head snapped toward him. “You don’t understand. None of you do. Cut me down and another rises. Cut him down, another comes. The circle doesn’t end.” Cruz’s hand shot forward, gripping his jaw hard enough to bruise. “Then give me a name. One name. Who’s pulling your strings?” Rafe’s eyes darted, searching Cruz’s face, then Gray’s, then Blade’s. The smirk fought its way back, but it didn’t stick. “If I tell you… they’ll burn me from the inside out.”

“But what does my father or the past have to do with that?” “Your father is a Mafia boss,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “Your pack is a Mafia gang, and your father is the head of it all. He’s committed countless crimes, shed innocent blood. That’s why you’re here.” “I'm Russell Dwayne, and I'm also in the Mafia, infact these are my men", he said.

“He is too soft for a position like that! He lost his wife and went into ghost mode for years! He will fail the entire family if he takes that position” I nodded my head in agreement, and he stood up angrily. I couldn't help but carefully look at the tailored satin suit he wore which obviously cost an arm and a leg. The Don is the youngest and hottest among all the other mafia’s. Well I mean Maverick is a bit hotter than him, but Micheal has style, he is so much into fashion, and he is a crazy-ass psychopath! I love that about him. I am not gay, but I could turn one for him.

“That’s helpful. Did you overhear them say anything specific? Anything that stood out?” Sylvania hesitated. “Yes,” she said quietly. “One of them said something like… ‘The Don will be pleased.’ It sounded important, like whoever this ‘Don’ is, they were working for him.” Kamala went silent on the other end of the line, her mind racing. She knew the name “The Don.” It wasn’t just a name; it was a title; a shadowy figure tied to organized crime, someone who operated in secret and held power over a dangerous network. This wasn’t just a random robbery; this was the Mafia.

I replied lazily, enjoying the way her jaw clenched as she fought to keep her composure in case the detective was still watching. God, she was terrible at this. Terrible—and absolutely fascinating. But I guess she couldn't take it anymore. She leaned forward, her fake smile frozen in place, but her whisper was sharp as a blade. “You know, every gentleman,” she hissed through her teeth, “always lets the woman go first.” I tilted my head, lips curving. “Good thing I’m not a gentleman then.” Her eyes widened a fraction. “What?” I leaned closer, my voice low enough to make her shoulders stiffen. “I’m Mafia, piccola. We don’t play by those rules.”

I started the car and headed for her hotel, my mind racing. She opened the door, her face grim. I stepped in wordlessly and she shut it firmly behind me. "Molly, there's something you need to know about Declan Shaughnessy," she said bluntly. "One of my clients knows him well from his former life in New York. Declan is a crime boss in the Irish mafia." I stared at her; sure I'd misheard. "What? No, Declan owns a security company, he told me ..." I trailed off at the pity in her eyes.

“Don’t mistake sparks for surrender. I didn’t choose this.” “Neither did I.” He leaned in with a low voice. “But here we are, bound by blood and money. Might as well enjoy the fireworks.” “I would rather set your expensive car ablaze.” He chuckled. “Then I’ll make sure the wine is vintage and the flames are beautiful.” This asshole won't back down. Let's see, Mr. Mafia Lord, Don, or whatever. Alessandro Montrego, the infamous Mafia Don from Italy, with cheekbones sharp enough to slice through my last nerve. Not sure how many people he killed in a day, but I’m sure he’s not a nice guy. Well, all criminals don't deserve the word ‘nice.’

And then he looked up, and the weight of his presence, that edge of menace, snapped me back. He wasn't that boy anymore. He was the man who owned and ruled this whole city. The Don who looked down at everyone from on high. What was I to him now? A bitter laugh rose in me. I shook my head at the Don standing a few steps away. "I'll skip it. I've got things to do at the office. I'll just drop this off in the laundry room and go." His brow lifted, unbothered. "I said come eat."

Leonard kicked the closet door shut, leaned against it and opened fire on the masked armed men. Trapped inside the closet, Natasha curled into a ball and pressed her hands over her ears as gun fire blasted loudly. Her heart hammered wildly in shock, terror and disbelief. Charlie's father was a notorious mafia don and he never told her? All her life, she assumed his father was a simple farmer who lived a secluded life. How wrong she had been. Everyone in the continent knew who Don Leonardo was. The blood don, the iron kingpin and ruthless crime boss of the underworld.