Mafia King Novels & Stories

There was Don Salvador, who everyone boasted, had won the great mafia war with a single bullet; Lord Pedro who was said to have had the most wives; Bruno the Wild who no one dared to call so while he lived… the pictures went back as far as the all, and there were more. Mama had not brought them all. At the very end of the long hall, there he was: Papa, the golden Mafia king (or so he liked to call himself). He was the best. The greatest. He had not done much but that was not the point. He had fought for his family. He was a man. He was a true king. And soon, he would join him, right there on that wall. Ernesto inhaled. He would make sure of it.

"Which is why the mafia king doesn't want to kill you. He wants to destroy you. Take everything. I know about your wife and children off the coast of Crete. Your little businesses in the Canaries. I know everything you're doing, Sergio. And the mafia king can take everything. He will take everything. Until you start begging for handouts from those who used to spread your rumors to.” “What do you want from me?”

Who the fuck doesn't want to be called by their name? Lastly, the Mafia Prince himself, Logan King, Jaimes cousin. The king of hell itself,aka the underground boxing king. I've heard of him at the matches I've been to, one punch from him and you're gone, kapoof! If he punches you twice or let's you punch him? Then he's bored and just wants some action.

The car door was opened, and Yara was dragged back inside. "Let go of me! What do you want from me?" yelled Yara, trying to rebel. Inside the mansion, a man was sitting on a black leather sofa. His eyes were cold. He was Damian Devatra, the man Yara had heard about on the news and through rumors—the ruler of a ruthless and unforgiving underground organization. You could say he was the King of the Mafia. "Sit down," Damian ordered simply. Yara gulped, feeling she had no choice. Hesitantly, she sat on the sofa in front of him.

The handsy man stutters as the man approaches us, “King. She approached me.” “Really? Are you calling me a liar?” The Mafia King’s voice is calm and sharp, like a shard of ice. “ No, my King, but she is a call girl!” I snap, looking back at the handsy man before turning to the King to plead my case. But I pause. The King’s head is tilted as he looks at me. The King’s voice is laced with disappointment and concern, “A call girl?”

The alcohol I’d consumed wasn’t helping. Cassio and Luca King. Mafia. Their father, Benito King, was one of the most feared men on the East Coast of the United States. And his sons weren’t far behind them. “Your mother is dead, Branka,” Cassio explained. “And your brother needs you back.” A soft gasp escaped my lips and I glanced at my best friend. She kept her expression masked, but I knew she cared. She wasn’t as close to her mother as I was to mine, but she loved her. The poor woman married a hard, cruel man and it broke her.

Could this be a big deal, I wondered? "We are the Blacks. Have you heard of Mercury Black, the mafia king? I'm his granddaughter. He passed the title down to my dad when he was ready to step down. My father is the mafia king now. We are here to investigate who has been embezzling funds from the so-called king of lycans and how rogues are infiltrating the kingdom. I've been at college, so we've been trying to get there, but obstacles keep arising. It always happens to one of us. We're used to it." The woman revealed this family connection, and I realized I had heard rumors about this mafia group in the kingdom. They were notoriou

The club was only dimly lit, the air thick with the reek of alcohol and despair. It was the kind where handshakes sealed deals and were broken by gunfire. I sat in the quiet booth, whiskey in front of me, back to the wall. I waited. For her. Fiorella D'Angelo. The so-called queen of her father's empire. I'd spent the day wondering whether she'd be even remotely the woman people described. The mafia had a reputation for exaggeration, making men monsters, women mythical legends that people couldn't even touch. Most of the time, that's just what they were, exaggerated tales.

"You will be my guest here for one hundred days. I will *persuade* you. If I fail, you will be free to return to the States." "Good luck with that," she said, her voice laced with irony as she almost finished untying herself. "And the 'States'? Which country are we in?" "Mexico," he replied, his voice softening slightly, "In the home of a man you might call a… mafia lord." "Is that what you call yourself?" Kendra challenged with a small chuckle. She stood and darted towards the door behind him, a desperate bid for freedom. He reacted instantly, grabbing her waist and slamming her against the wall, her back to him.

"Okay so you know how the club is basically frequented by wealthy and powerful men right?" I nodded, as she continued. "So it felt strange that I didn’t know much about the man who booked you for a month so I started doing some digging, it was really hard because nothing came up at first. It felt like he didn’t even exist, but eventually I got some answers." She paused, looking around once again before she leaned in and whispered. "It turns out, he’s the head of the Luca syndicate. The most powerful criminal organization in the city. He’s a mafia king, Nick. And not just anyone, a really dangerous one at that."