Finlay Donovan Is Killing It Movie Novels & Stories

"Sir, we didn't know..." "Now you know. As the only living relative to the Don, she's taking over effective immediately" the men shift on their feet. I can tell they want to object and if I were any of them, I wouldn't say shit. But as usual, there is always that one stupid idiot who can't hold it in. "What does that mean? This puttana is going to be our boss now?" Giovanni doesn't bother answering. He shoots the fucker right between his eyes. The guy falls back on the coffee table, shattering it as he goes. Blood slowly oozes from the hole in his head.

“Hmm, you want me to kill her? I can kill her right now! I know how much she means to you! I know how much you love her, so if you still want her, give me what I want! the flash drive!” Fabian seemed to be talking to my eyes. He blinked twice while looking at me intently, and I felt like I understood what he was saying. Even if this sharp knife can hurt or wound me so badly, what I do can save my life and lead me to the man I love. And as I blinked my eyes, I saw that the sniper's red mark was on Donovan's head. So I moved away from him, which surprised and angered him. He was about to shoot me when a sniper shot him in the arm, making him moan in pain.

“Don’t get too comfortable… you’ve got her brainwashed! She loves me! We have history!” Marcello let out a soft chuckle, the sound dripping with contempt for an insect. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his embrace, and leaned down to press a possessive kiss to my forehead. “But you’re out of the game.” “Raphael Russo, you’re a toad groveling at my wife’s feet. It’s pathetic.” The crowd of onlookers and gallery staff let out a ripple of quiet laughter. 【Damn! So satisfying! The Don doesn't even need to swear to destroy someone!】

It was audio I retrieved from getting someone to bug her apartment. In the recording, she was chatting with her friends. "That Freya's an old hag. She's old, ugly, and still clinging to the title of Madre Corleone. So disgusting! Vincenzo is so good to me now. He listens to me so well. Once he divorces that old hag, I'd be the Donna of the Corleone famiglia. "I heard that Freya used to run with the underworld, so she has blood on her hands. That's really terrifying. How could Vincenzo ever want someone like that? I'm younger and purer, much better than her."

The water was so blue it hurt to look at. We sat on the deck of our villa, watching the sun melt into the ocean. And finally, Ethan told me everything. When he was eight years old, his parents were murdered. Assassinated by rivals within the Stone family itself. His grandfather, Don Lawrence Stone, knew that if the killers realized Ethan was a threat, the boy would be next. So they made a plan. Don Lawrence announced to the world that the trauma had broken his grandson. That the boy was simple. Slow. Harmless.

"It's already done, Antonio. I've given my statement to the feds. It's over." Antonio lunged forward, grabbing Enzo by the shirt. "You backstabbing son of a bitch! After everything my father's done for you?" Enzo pushed Antonio away. "Your father's the reason I'm doing this. He's gone too far, Antonio. Someone has to stop him before he destroys everything." The video continued, showing the argument escalating until Antonio, in a fit of rage, grabbed a nearby lamp and swung it at Enzo's head. The sickening crack of impact filled the room, followed by the thud of Enzo's body hitting the floor.

"Why would you want to see Theo? Donavan, if my father finds out you are here, he will kill you!" Donavan didn't look affected by my words. If anything, he looked confused. "Theo is my cousin, Elena, and the business he signed with your father, is majorly owned by me." his words had me freezing. "What?" He had to be joking? Theo? How? Donavan walked over and stopped near my desk, a small distance away from me. "I thought you knew about it?" he lookded genuinely surprised at my shocked expression.

“Did you get the guy you were hunting?” The smirk on my face grew and I raised my eyes to look at Donovan inside the van. He was staring at me like I’d just killed his god. “Yes,” I said. “Thanks to someone very resourceful.” Donovan banged against the van window, red-faced and roaring. “You set me up! You bastard! I’ll bury you!” Lauren rolled her eyes. “Save it for the judge,” she muttered and climbed in. The doors shut. The convoy moved out.

“Don Marino, it was Dante’s request to be left alone…” “A request you should have ignored!” he barked. The room grew quiet. “You left my son alone to be killed by a nobody—a worthless death—killed by an old man on the streets of Sicily!” he yelled. “A nobody killed my son. He was going to be Don…” He chuckled dryly, hands shaking, trying to control his anger but failing at it. Everyone watched the Don. He was always a symbol of control and composure—now not so much. They watched as he unraveled before them. He still hadn’t shed a tear.

“You think I don’t see it? You warn me she’s making me soft. Days later, she’s hit by a car with no plates, tinted windows, no trace. You show up here uninvited. You expect me not to suspect you?” Giovanni’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’d harm her?” “You’ve harmed for less.” He shook his head slowly. “Not this. Not her. I may not approve, but I’m not a fool. Killing her would break you. And a broken Don is bad for business.” The words hung heavy. Dante stepped forward. “Then who was it?” Giovanni’s gaze flicked to him, then back to me. “You have rivals. Enemies. Shadows that wait for weakness. Don’t mistake me for them.”