Darkest Man Real Name Novels & Stories

She looked at me, eyes widening, then nodded quickly and hurried away. My phone rang. I picked it up and brought it to my ear. “Tristan,” said a man. The voice was distantly familiar, but I couldn’t place it. The background noise suggested he was in a helicopter or small airplane. “This is Drake Mancini. I’m calling to tell you we have your brother and we’re going to enjoy his screams like you enjoyed Eleanor’s. Tell Nico to set up a Darknet connection for later so you can watch as we tear him apart. I will enjoy slicing him into tiny pieces.” He hung up.

He walked like a man rising from amongst the ashes. Even from a distance I saw him clear as day. I could never forget or mistake him. The man was tall like god, his body red with the blood of his kills, his hair dark and wet with sweat. Vasiliek , the man that I now realized was Augustus said. He did not move even as the man he had been conversing with ran. Ivan neared him until they were within arms length of each other. His eyes moved across the room until they rested on me. Hed seen me.

"What do you mean?" David looked up at me, his eyes are red and dull. "Roberto Manchini is one of the infamous Mafia leaders of Italy. His gang Scorpio has the ugliest reputation and I was one of them once in my life." "I left them when Adele came into my life. She showed me the true light in life and brought me out of the darkness. I left the gang and hide away from them and came to America with a new identity. Soon, started working with President Antonio. I thought I left the past behind but, I was wrong..." He sighed.

The room was dark and quiet, the only source of light being the fire place that burned and heated up the otherwise cold room. In the middle of the room was a large wooden table with a chair at both ends, Damian sat on one with Don and Leo standing behind him while Jamal Murray, a bald black man that looked to be in his mind forties with dark unforgiven eyes and a sharp cunning smile sat at the other with a stone faced guard standing behind him. Jamal was one of the few men who weren't born into this world but had managed to carve a place in it for themselves and he wasn't just some local boss running a small operation and raising his shoulders, He was the leader of the fucking Underground.

Dexter stepped out from the shadows, lowering his gun. “He talks too much. I'm Dexter, your botler,”he giggled. He was tall, tatted and good looking. A corn row on his head. He looked more like a play boy than a mafia. He walked close to me, extending his hand and i grabbed it, trying hard to hide my fear, my grip firm. “Welcome to the real mafia life, boss. This is just the…begining.” a cruel smile on his lips.

His voice carried a menacing undertone, full of deception to hide his suspicion that the person in front of him was an impostor. The man staggered, still trying to cling to his role. But as blood trickled from his lip, his eyes flashed—a look Drick had never seen in any of Dark’s real men. “So that means…” Drick muttered under his breath while landing another punch that nearly shattered the man’s jaw, “they know about our hideout… they know Sir Dark’s secret.” Drick’s fists tightened, the smell of blood and dust mixing with each labored breath. Every strike wasn’t just punishment—it was a desperate way to extract the truth from the impostor before him.

The big black horses barely made any sound, there was no conversation among the big guards who had large scary tattoos around them. Leading the guards, were four people on black horses; Demenicus Darke, the alpha of the skull pack, Simion and Euvene Darke, the alpha first twin sons, and lastly Reven. F. Darke, the bastard last son of the alpha, who was known by other packs as the Deathkeeper, because of his brutality and savagery.

This entails that for her, there was not going to be any means of avoiding him. Sad as it had been with all the cruelty and terror meted out to the human race, it was nothing compared to him. He was the definition of dread, danger and darkness. He was the worst of them all, and he was referred to as Darken Rawl Luciano. ****************** LATIFAH'S POV

my voice carried easily through the house, I wasn’t even sure if he could hear me, but I had to try. “You can call me Alaster, after all, we will be spending quite some time together, it’s only right for us to become acquainted,” Dark spoke suddenly. “You can call me Miss Hastings, I refuse to be on a first-name basis with a murderer.” I spat. Dark brought a hand to his heart and scoffed, offended, “When have you ever seen me kill someone?” For a moment I just stared at him, completely taken aback by his innocent act, “In the warehouse, you shot a man right in front of me.” I deadpanned and the bastard actually looked amused.

Who was this prisoner, and why was his record sealed? "I want you to keep trying to access the record," I said, my voice firm. "I need to know who this prisoner is." Kane nodded, his eyes locked on the screen. I turned and walked away, my mind still reeling with different questions. “Got it!” Kane clapped his hands, instantly gaining my attention. “What is it?” I turned to meet his happy face. “Sylvester Darkmoon.” He exclaimed. “What?” I gasped, my voice ringing with disbelief.