Novelas y relatos de Mafia Brothers

he greeted coolly, emphasizing my full name just to get under my skin—he knew how much I hated it. “Where’s Xavier? And mama? And Aria and Amara?” Gianna asked eagerly. “I’m right here,” Xavier Ammassari’s voice rang out, his smile easy and confident as he strolled over to us. Both Ammassari brothers were devastatingly handsome, carrying the undeniable presence of men who led one of the most powerful mafia families in the country. The only difference? Xavier wore his power with effortless charm, while Leo carried his with arrogance. “Xavier,” Gianna hugged her oldest brother tightly and I won’t deny, I felt a twinge of longing and jealousy to see the close-knit bonding between the three of t

The brothers walked away defeated; even when they entered vans, none of their men dared utter a single word, fearing that the anger they handled would unload on them. The brothers couldn't blame them either. Their partners understood them too. On the side of the Red Mafia, they understood it; Yaroslav and Yasir didn't want to risk their sister Yulia, the youngest of the Ivanovs. They understood Massimo Coppola, Don of the Camorra, for not wanting to risk his brother Lorenzo. Of course, they did Because they would never risk it; brotherhood was a solid bond. They also understood Aurelio Vitale, Gift of Costa Nostra, for not wanting to risk his mother, Vittoria Vitale.

he said in a husky voice. Sofia was dumbstruck as she stared at the man who flirted with her. He was tall and muscular, he was dark-skinned, and he had red locks and a tattoo on his neck that I recognized. He is from an American family called the Rocks. The current biggest American family mafia in this century is known for their well-known kidnapping of innocent victims, sex trafficking, murder, and most of all their selling of drugs. I stepped away from them and notified the rest of the team mostly Jevon knowing he's gonna flip. He wouldn't want anything to happen to her and most importantly he seemed to have a huge crush on her.

My brother had discovered that she was stealing money from him, and if there was anything my brother valued more than anything else, it was his money. After I got him off her, he became enraged and charged at me. We fought until he suddenly went rigid in my arms, his eyes wide. Blood spewed out of his mouth, and he stumbled, grabbing my arms. I held him, frowning in confusion, not understanding what was going on, until he collapsed to his knees, revealing a trembling Margot with bloody hands standing behind him.

I looked up at his face, breaking the first safety tip I had been told. This was a man of shadows, a man my father had sworn didn't exist, yet many times at night, I heard him curse at them. A man straight out of my nightmares. A man I hoped would never recognize me. “I fratelli Drago”, also known as the Draghi Brothers, were the worst nightmare of many Mafia lords. No one knew where exactly they came from, all we knew was they built a family, fast. Killing all their competitors, taking over families. They had murdered a boss last year, because he spilled a drink on one of them in spite. I had enjoyed watching them, following all their updates. My father called them monsters.

I was still in just my thin tank top and panties, but they had been pulled down slightly, exposing the top of my smooth mound. Three men stood at the foot of the bed, watching me. Triplets. Identical in every terrifying way — tall, broad-shouldered, sharp jawlines, dark hair, and piercing ice-blue eyes. They wore expensive black shirts with the sleeves rolled up, revealing powerful forearms covered in tattoos. Mafia ink. Dangerous. The one in the middle stepped closer. His voice was calm, almost gentle, but carried absolute command. “I’m Luca. These are my brothers, Matteo and Nico. You saw us that night. You saw what we do. Now you belong to us.”

“Then you go back to ships and hoping no one’s watching too closely.” I met his gaze, unblinking. “Tell me what you want.” “There’s a group I did business with,” Roman said, lowering his voice, not because anyone could hear us, habit just ran deep. “The Bajrak Syndicate.” I immediately recognized the name. Albanian, old blood. They were ruthless, but not stupid, just… blunt. They believed intimidation was a strategy and violence was sports. They moved drugs the way animals moved territory, loud, aggressive, and bloody when challenged. We’d circled each other for years without colliding.

His head wiggles towards the door at our entrance. "I've been waiting." "You shut the fuck up, Santoro, or you might take a fucking punch to the throat." Santoro runs the largest smuggling ring in Chicago, and we need him on our side. But I will punch him if I have to, and I'll be happy to do it. No one keeps the De Lucas waiting, not even Santoro. "Better than watching you gripe all evening." I take the chair across from him, and my brothers settle in beside me. At the door, Silvio stands guard, along with who I'm certain is Santoro's right-hand man.

But it was like they’d vanished off the face of the earth. No trace. No leads. “Maybe they left the country,” Lorenzo said, his voice full of despair. “Maybe they’re in Europe, or South America…” “No.” I stared out at the Chicago skyline. “They’re still here. I can feel it.” But a feeling wasn’t a lead. Our money was running out. The estate was sold. We moved into a small apartment. Lorenzo sold his last Rolex. I pawned the ring my father left me. The great Moretti brothers. Living worse than the people we used to rule.

He stepped closer, hands visible in non-threatening move. “I’m Matteo. David’s brother. He asked me to come pick you up saying there’s a family matter he would like to discuss with you privately. He is tied up with a meeting, but he’ll join us shortly.” My stomach tightened. David had never mentioned a brother not even once. But the man pulled out his phone, turned the screen toward me. It was a photo of him and David, arms slung around each other at some event years ago. David looked younger, almost happy.