Italian Mystery Novels Novels & Stories

shirt. "What happened to Bill? Did he give any information about the deal of cocaine with the Russian mafia?" Sherlock Hanes, the owner of the Italian mafia, the most dangerous criminal with more than a thousand murders in his name and the most searched culprit in police records yet with no single case filed against him, spoke to Carl.

Vittore Martinelli was the fucking boogyman. "Bloody smart idiot," I grumbled under my breath as I gave up looking for any information on him. From what I saw on Matteo's search, he was the Don of the Martinelli familia. The biggest crime family of the Italian, Russian and Mexican mafias. I didn't want to admit but I was impressed. Vittore covered his tracks well, making it seem like the Martinelli familia fell after Matteo's sudden disappearance. I sighed, having seen enough and closed all tabs, removing everything from the search history too.

Curiosity piqued and he approached the door, wondering what could be hidden behind it. The door creaked softly as Alberto pushed it open, revealing a small, dimly lit room. The air inside was stale, and the space was sparse, with only a few books, newspapers, and some documents scattered about. With furrowed brows, he stepped inside and walked over to the table. The first thing that caught his attention were the newspapers, yellowed with age. They all had different pictures of the same person on each cover page, but different headlines, mainly about a notorious Mafia Lord—Don Pedro De Niro.

stood out, as it reminded him of his family's roots in the Sicilian mafia. He had spent countless hours studying the hidden codes, the secrets, and the rituals that governed their world. And now, it looked like all those studies went down the drain. As he delved deeper into the book, Antonio's cough returned, this time more violently. He let out a hacking cough that hooked him in the throat, and a splatter of blood stained the pages, mingling with the ink of his youthful scribbles. The sight of the blood on the book was a stark reminder of his current state, and the fragility that lay beneath his tough exterior

I spun back around, my heart hammering as I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. “The body of prominent Italian tycoon Alex Gray was discovered today in Russia under mysterious circumstances. Authorities report that a cryptic note was found at the scene, referencing a decade-old murder case that once led to the arrest of Russian Mafia leader Nicholas Romanov Fortune and three of his men. Investigators suspect the note may be linked to the elusive witness from the infamous case, though its meaning remains unclear. While speculation points to Mafia involvement, the execution of the crime was so precise—so methodically clean—that no traceable evidence has been left behind. With no leads

Something sinister lay in the silence and Dan turned to scan the way. He wouldn't be caught off guard again. A shadow shifted in his periphery, and he turned as a man stepped from between two cars. Medium heights. Medium build. Well-dressed and carrying a briefcase. Not someone Betty would normally have noticed. Not someone she would normally have thought of as a threat. But these weren't normal circumstances, and everyone was a threat until proven otherwise. "Hey!" the man called out, offering a quick wave and a brief smile. "I've locked myself out of my car, and my cell phone is in it. Can you give me a hand?"

The older man ignored Marco’s hostility entirely and looked back at Lorenzo. “You’ve been quite difficult to reach,” he said calmly.. “And who are you?” Lorenzo’s voice came out cold enough to slice through stone “Fair question.” The man smiled slightly. “I’m Adrian Moretti.” The name settled heavily into the tunnel and Ricci’s expression hardened, Marco looked furious. And Isabella…saw the exact second Lorenzo recognized it. Because Moretti was not an unknown name inside the De Luca world. He was a ghost. A man who had been whispered about in fragments after disappearing years ago during the violent restructuring of old alliances across Italy’s underground networks.

"The games I play usually end in blood." Ivan didn't dare move, just glared at me. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with?" I smiled, about to say something. Just then, the crowd parted. A man in a black silk shirt strolled over, oozing a dangerous, magnetic charm with every step. He had the classic profile of an Italian man—deep green eyes, dark brown hair that was just the right amount of messy. Victor Bellini. The Godfather of Italy's largest mafia family.

"Can you at least say something that makes sense? You are seriously scaring me!" He took a slow, grounding breath, his intense gaze locking me in place. "I’m Dario’s older brother, Roman." My jaw dropped, my arms loosening slightly before I caught myself. "The priest?!" I knew Dario had an older brother, but according to the sparse stories he shared, the man was a ghost to the family. The rumors among our circle whispered that he had walked away from the family business to take holy vows. I always thought that was a crazy combo, how could a mafia don's son be a priest? It made no sense.