Jackson Underworld Novels & Stories

The Moretti Family's Thanksgiving party was in full swing downstairs—crystal clinks, fake laughs, classic mafia gloss. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a servant's room on the third floor. Jackson Moretti's wife. Legally, anyway. My hands were ice. I gripped the ultrasound report like it could anchor me. Three heartbeats. Strong, steady. It was supposed to be a surprise—his big Thanksgiving gift. To the outside world, Jackson was a polished Stanford grad, running a top-tier consulting firm in San Francisco. But behind the scenes? He ran the Moretti empire—cold, calculated, pulling strings in the West Coast's darkest corners.

The crows were flailing. Business and politics were just the surface. Jaxon knew that a war of this scale would not be won in boardrooms alone. The Elijah Family had long kept its hands clean in the eyes of the world, but beneath the surface, they had their own connections to the underworld. Unlike the Rostishires, who relied on brute force and old alliances, Jaxon had built something far more efficient—a network of shadows, mercenaries, and informants embedded in every level of the criminal world. A midnight meeting was called in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Inside, some of the most feared names in the underworld gathered—men who controlled entire syndicates, arms de

“I saw a documentary.” “Yeah?” Lee snaps. “Was it sandwiched between your mafia movie and an episode of Narcos?” Another chuckle rolls out of Jackson. This one’s sharper. More deliberate. Either he finds his little roommate funny — which he’s not. Okay, maybe a little. Or he’s figured all this out, and he’s savoring it. He’s way too placid. That sets me on edge. “Seriously, though,” Jesse barrels on, undeterred, “… there’s always a mafia. Russians, Irish, Yakuza — pick a flavor. You piss off the wrong one, you end up in a trunk. With them … everything is business. I’ve seen it.”

“I'd have killed Jackson a long time ago if not for the Mafia blood oath. That guy was ordered to secretly follow the late Don Gomez to Los Angeles when he went to look for Nora but he took-off immediately when he saw the Black Mambas attack Don Gomez's vehicle.“ Jackson's relative dropped his drink on the table and lowered his head in shame. The last guy who hadn't said a word shook his head and looked at the people dancing in the club. “I miss the old days,” he said. “And every single second that passes laughs at me as I remember that late Don Gomez Waxson's killers are still breathing.“ Nobody said anything for a while. And then, Raven finally broke the silence. “Where's Soldier Jackson n

He flew my old boss all the way from the little coffee shop to Sicily just to make me smile. Mr. Jackson spotted Noah standing near the archway and pointed excitedly. "Hey! The hottie who bought the sunset painting!" Mr. Jackson yelled across the room, oblivious to the fact he was yelling at the boss of the North American underworld. "I knew you two would be a beautiful couple!" Noah actually offered him a genuine, polite nod. Then Mr. Jackson pointed a finger directly at a scarred local boss. "And frankly," Mr. Jackson announced loudly, "this Italian espresso is terrible. Way too bitter. My American roast beats this stuff hands down."

I asked. “Jackson is the city's bad boy. He runs some of the best clubs in the city. Jace on the other hand is into helping start-ups. He buys a significant amount of their shares. Sometimes it's a good deal, other times, it fails.” I nodded as she explained things to me. I signaled to the workers that I was ready for my own mask and cucumber slices. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to relax. “Jaxon looks a bit tired,” I commented absent-mindedly.

She looked away,feeling embaressed. I pushed her hair out of her,"No you right." "What's wrong?" I sighed,"I fought someone today and killed them." "Who was it?"She looked shocked. "It was Mark's Father. He is Alpha Kenneth of the Gold Moon Pack. He was the one responsible for the pain you felt, Mark was just an accomplice.He was just cruel and had so many types of illegal drugs." “Huh.” She said. “I think I should be upset, but I’m not. I’m glad you killed him. Not even for me. For his people and who else he might hurt.” She nodded, confirming her own words.

I had no idea where we were going, but I knew it wasn’t going to be good. When we reached our destination, I was shocked to find ourselves driving underground into what looked like a heavily guarded compound. We parked and Dante stepped out of the car, I did too. The room we entered was dark and cold. There were five men chained to the wall, their faces bruised and beaten. They looked at Dante like he was their executioner, which, in a sense, he was. One of the men tried to speak, but Dante cut him off with a cold smile. “Who leaked the information about the guns moving into the country?” he asked, his voice cold like ice.

The engagement was still on, but he never answered anything. "Tonight, you take care of that rat! I'm too lazy to get my hands dirty for a fool." "Yes sir!" they said as they went back to work; Jaxon, the wealthy businessman, had managed to expand his sole proprietorship without the help of the big name of his family, who was already rich from his mother and father. Jaxon successfully founded his only company called, JV Corp. Even in the underworld, Jaxon is the Hand of the Machine. Jaxon can kill with just one slash on the head of his enemy. One person died with his head separated, so the underworld knew that it was the work of Mr J, who did not know his face.

Jackson said in a low, calm voice. But she could sense something in him that was anything but calm. She took a step back, remembering how he had looked when he had come back in. The air around her sizzled with danger like she was caged in with a dangerous animal. And she was. Jackson was a cult leader who brainwashed young girls, and he was a killer. Jackson looked away from her. His fists clenched briefly before he walked back to a door next to the bathroom. When he opened it, she realised it was a walk-in closet that was much bigger than the one in her room.