Novel & Cerita Italian Mafia Last Names

There was Alessandro, his eldest still twelve years old; Leandro, age 11; Sebastiano, age 10; Sefora, age 4; then the little baby named Oliviero. “Where is Nerea?” I asked Fazzio, looking surprised that I know one of his children’s names. The other Dons get their names jumbled up, and most of them doesn’t even have their names memorized. I know the names of his children and who’s oldest and youngest. I had memorized them including their age. After all, it is my mission to become the mafia’s downfall. The world needs reformation and the reformation starts by getting rid of them.

The caller ID tells me it's Frankie and I pinch the bridge of my nose because I have a feeling he’s calling with bad news. Classic fucking Frankie. “I’m on my way,” I say, and don’t even wait for him to answer before I put the phone down again. But when I open the front door to walk to the armored Bentayga, I wish I fucking listened to him. On my doorstep is Vito, along with the three Camorra heads: Sal ‘Snake-Eyes’ Bianchi, Aldo ‘Fats’ Colombo, and Vinny ‘The Sandman’ Ricci. Older generation scumbags with shitty nicknames and too much fucking power if you ask me.

He sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively. "Kairo Bianchi is the Italian mob boss. He took over the Italian Mafia five years ago after his father was killed by their enemies. It was said that his mother disappeared without a trace twenty years ago. She was never found and his father didn't try to search for her either. Antonio, the other man you saw this morning is the mob boss of Portugal. That woman is his sister. They are Kairo Bianchi's friends" he shared the details of her brother. Slowly the details sank into her head. She doesn't know what to feel. She is feeling emotionally exhausted. She lost the family she thought she had and suddenly a brother appeare

, i finished. He looked up at me then and tried to force a smile, "Thank you Nicholas". "Carlos, untie him and put him on the chair" I said as i looked at his hands suspended in the air with chains and saw how weak it made him. As soon as he sat down, I began with the questioning. "Which mafia gang do you belong to, Mark?" "The Juarez Mafia family from Italy", he said. Yes that was it, that was why the tattoo had looked so familiar, i knew exactly which family that was. Immediately, Carlos' phone beeped, and a message came in. He looked at him and said,

He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.” I didn’t want to. But I did. I hesitated, then crossed the room and sat down because I needed answers more than I needed air. The silver coin gone now, replaced by a silence. “You want answers?” he said quietly. “Then listen.” I nodded once. Silas leaned back, exhaling slowly, like this next part was a weight he’d carried for years. “Before the Circle. Before America. Our family name was Moretti. One of the oldest mafia lines in Italy. Powerful, respected... until we wanted out.”

They are pain in the ass that made him angry due to the fact that he doesn't seem his rose. His Lapochka. Yego rosa. Athenarose. They went to France to give Dark Zacchaeus Voughnn Smith one of the heads of Albanians mafia. He's the Mafia Lord. The Almighty. He might be the boss of La Nera Bratva, but he also works under Dark's orders. Not only him but all five heads of La Nera Bratva. There's him, Demetri - the underboss, Grey - consigliere, Falcon - enforcer, and Ace - financier. They may also be under his control, but they also have their own crime syndicates, each commanding their own territories and operations. He is the head of the Italian-Russian mafia. One of the most prominent crime

He finally wants to go through the right procedures after making me waste my strength. " And the name is Rain Moretti." Rain Moretti. My breath became unsteady. I knew that name. Everyone knew that name. As in the Moretti family offspring, I hear that a million times per month, the strongest mafia family–no one else claims that last name. Stay away from anyone with that last name everyone advises. They collect debts in blood. It's always a bad news with them, they never spare the prey. I’d heard the stories in gossip tones at lunch. Seen the news clips. People who crossed them vanished. Or even worse.

I noticed him earlier mingling with the other guests. “Terzo.” I grabbed the scotch on the table and sipped it. Terzo Siciliano, the Italian mafia don, took over the family business from his father. He ran the organized crime in Italy and controlled some territories in the US. If what I heard was true, most of his businesses were legit under a company called Silver Star Capital. In fact, his wife owned a five-star hotel in Sicily. But when you still carried that kind of family name that he had, you couldn’t get away easily under public scrutiny, and people still looked at you the same way as the notorious, ruthless mafia.

I didn’t leave anywhere after I carried out the order. The idea of going out—even for another cup of coffee—felt more like an imposter’s advice, like it was trying to lure me into meeting him again. Adrian Vale. That wasn’t even his real name. I was sure of it. I might have lied about myself to him, but I had made sure to dig into everything about him—so much that there was nothing left for him to hide. His name was Romane Antonio—the last son of a wealthy Mafia family I had crossed paths with long ago. Seven years ago, to be precise. We were both young then, and he was too naive. I took my chances to survive around him.

Nathan laughed. “Twerkley’s is Kenneth,” Kimmy grinned. “Kenneth?” Nathan said, raising his eyebrow. “Don’t even start, stock market,” Dante mumbled. “Nina and Salvatore,” I said. “What are your middle names?” “Mine is Isabella,” Nina stated. “Salvatore is Antonio.” “I know, we truly have mafia names,” Salvatore chuckled. “Isabella is a beautiful name,” I said, smiling. “It fits your daughter very well.”