Dio Brando Part 1 Novels & Stories

“Because there’s three of us.” “I didn’t want you to get involved in this,” I say. “This is my mess.” “And we’re your cousins,” Alessandro says. “We’re not leaving you alone to fight Marcello.” “But you have your families to think about. There are other enemies who—” “We’re family,” Brando says. “We’ll defeat Marcello together.” Alessandro’s voice is full of confidence and certainty. “I thought you didn’t like me.” I look at Brando. “I didn’t. You were a brat. But you’ve grown on me. Like fungus.” He grins.

she yelled, a fire burning deep within her eyes. Jeff recoiled against the car. “Mr. Drake, it’s locked. I can’t get in!” As the teacher fumbled for his keys, Mr. Brando raised his knife overhead and lunged at Jeff. “Devil bastard!” As he drove down the knife, Alan moved ahead of Jeff to block the attack. The blade slid through his chest like it was molded from soft clay, and the keys he’d pulled from his pocket dropped. Everyone gasped and took a step back as Mr. Brando retracted the weapon.

Brando worked with precision, and Jenny followed suit, moving from one man to the next and finding ways to help. "She took the night off," Brando muttered, his focus never wavering from the swift yet careful stitches he applied to a man's forearm. "Thought things were quiet enough." "Did anyone inform Alexander or Dolf?" Malia snapped, her tone laced with venom. Brando merely shrugged, his attention fixed on the task at hand. "She was having contractions. She wanted to go home."

Tom asked Brandi as he drove through the streets, keeping his eyes pealed for trouble. “It’s a Van Damme movie, my first major studio film,” Brandi excitedly told Tom. “Wow,” said Tom. “Congratulations.” “Thanks!” Brandi replied, blushing a little. “See that car up ahead?” Tom asked her, pointing to a brown Cadillac that was weaving all over the road ahead of them. “Yes,” nodded Brandi. “He’s not driving very straight.” “Probably a drunk,” agreed Tom, flicking a switch on the dashboard in front of him and turning on the squad cars lights and sirens.

Cute. UNKNOWN: You really think any of this is real? My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped the phone. “Cam,” Brandon said, voice low and tense, “give me the phone.” But I kept scrolling. Because the next message had a picture. A blurry shot of Brandon at some restaurant, sitting across from a man whose face was turned away—but he had the same haircut, same posture, same stupid smirk— Drake. My stepbrother. The one person I didn’t want anywhere near this part of my life.

And there he was. Brandon. He stood with his back to me at first, shoulders loose, like he’d been waiting. But then he turned, and I froze—not because of him, but because of what was at his feet. Lorenzo. His body was slumped against the wall, head hanging forward, blood dripping from his temple. He looked like a broken doll, discarded and forgotten. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, but he was alive. Barely. Brandon smiled when he saw me. Not a friendly smile. Not even smug. It was calm. Too calm.

Luciano said with emphasis on every word he spoken. "I don't know what you're talking about." I continued to act as if I'm clueless about the things he accuses to me. There's no way I will tell him that I used Brando's weakness to help me get out of this place. I'm not stupid enough to do that. "I'll take it from here, Brando. Go back to your post." Luciano suddenly said and motioned to Brando to leave. Brando immediately walked out, I could do nothing but gaze at Brando until he came out of the training room.

“You let someone crawl in and almost kill my merchandise?” “I didn’t know!” Gino wailed. “I didn’t see!” Brando pressed the blade against his eye. I covered my mouth with both hands. “Should’ve ripped your eyeballs out the second you fucked up,” Brando said. Then he plunged the knife in. The knife sliced through the air. “AGHHHH!” The sound was worse than the sight. A wet pop. Like someone stepped on a tomato Gino screamed so loud I felt it in my chest.

They were attacking me like an animal and I responded as one. Suddenly, the hands holding me loosened but I didn’t stop fighting. It took a moment to figure out that the attack had stopped. I scrambled back on my arms and legs and got as far away as I could. Brando and some of Gabriel’s crew were pummeling Armando’s guys. I looked for Gabriel but didn’t see him. Brando did most of the work and tossed guys around like they weighed nothing. His head didn’t move in the slightest when someone got a nice punch in. That’s when I saw Brando smile. His fist came up and the guy went down.

" Woody raised his right hand and made a grasping motion in the air. Instantly, Brandon's body lifted off the ground, and he was suspended in midair. Then, Woody's hand was around his neck. Brandon's face turned purple from the lack of oxygen. But despite this, he continued to bluster, "Do you know who I am? How dare you lay your hand on me?" "Funny, I actually don't know who you are," Woody remarked as he continued applying steady pressure around Brandon's neck. "Tell me your name." "You uncouth brute, you're not worthy of knowing my name!" Brandon struggled, defiant to the end. "I command you to release me. If you harm me, you'll be doomed."