Mafia Kings Novels & Stories

“Is it here where you made my false documents?” Aspen shifts in his seat, obviously feeling uncomfortable as he pushes against the frame of his glasses repeatedly. “No! The artists are down there.” Taking a step back, I look down a narrow hallway filled with shelves full of books that must lead to another hall. A man in a tailored suit is standing there casually, scrolling through the pages of a book and as he sees me he waves at me with an exaggerated smile. “Oh, that’s interesting.” “We were told that he is the King of New York,” Karma says matter-of-factly, not stopping a split second as he continues coding. “Is that true?”

He started walking toward us with others trailing behind him. When they came near, my stomach dropped by his sight. Noooooo.....no...way....pls don't let him be him.....pls God..... But my little prayer was not heard by God as I could easily get the close view of him. ALPHA KING more like Royal king. I stood there like a statue watching him heading to our side. ......He has a connection with some mafia too. .........Never get caught my eyes. ............Mafiaaaa. Ohh God....save me.....i..i...What should I do......run...yes...run...

" The Mafia King studied him for a long moment, smoke curling from his lips. Then he chuckled softly, like Martin had just told a joke. "Be careful what you offer." He said. He glanced around the room once more, at the blood, at the body on the floor, before his eyes returned to Martin. "You don't have money." He continued calmly. "You don't have power. And you don't have time." Martin shook his head again. "Please—" "I'll take one of your children." The Mafia King said, cutting him off. The words landed heavier than a gunshot. Martin froze. "What...?"

Milo’s POV The meeting room was a den of wolves, each man at the table cloaked in ambition and deceit. The air hung heavy with cigar smoke, the acrid scent mingling with the faint metallic tang of tension. I sat at the head, my posture relaxed but my eyes sharp, scanning the faces of Russia’s most ruthless bosses. They spoke of territories, shipments, and profits, their voices a low rumble of greed, but my mind was elsewhere, back on that balcony, where Emilie’s trembling voice had declared her loyalty to me, even as her eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt.

This isn't how I had planned for the meeting to go but somehow I need to come up with a very quick solution or end up with nothing. *** After the storm had calmed down that night, I head towards my underground chamber where a big table laid in the center of the room. Everyone was present. The Mafia Lords who control everything about the city in silence. Dante Ferraro was seating next to the sit meant for the head of the table. Luca Moretti the second Mafia boss leaned back with a ciger in his mouth, while Julian Cortez played drums with his fingers on the table. I took my seat last and they all turned to my direction.

Pop-pop says and I nod my head when the doors open again and I smile at my great-uncles. I move from my nanna and pop-pop to them. “Oh my darling girl, come here.” Uncle Nico says and I move into his arms and he hugs me before I move to Uncle Nate. He does the same thing. We pull apart and I see one of the Mafia Queens, Gabriella DeAngelis, as she stands shoulder to shoulder with Uncle Nate. Gabriella and her twin Alexandra DeAngelis are the Mafia Queens, well former queens. Gabriella’s daughter was the firstborn. Larissa is now the queen and her husband, Uncle Nate’s son Benito, is now the ruling Mafia King.

He is the mafia king, the man who is untouchable. Oh shit!

Vincenzo had been playing this game for too long, and he knew their hearts as well as his own. They all stood in union and bowed their heads as a show of respect for their upcoming mafia king. A few faces were open with approval. The old guards who had long since reconciled themselves to his rise, those who saw him as the inevitable choice, the next king. They greeted him with respect, even reverence, in their eyes. To them, he was the end of a long struggle—a finish line, even if it meant the end of an era. They knew his ruthlessness would keep order.

Note to self: never let her have more than one glass of whiskey at a time. “I’d rather not,” I simply replied and he rolled his eyes at me, finally showing some semblance of amusement. Madden continued, straightening his shirt and doing the cuffs, “Meanwhile I have work to do. The Bavarians have finally relented. And Cross’ Allie’s in Bulgaria have been decimated. There’s nothing left for him in Europe now.” I nodded; just like him I had work to do, and lots of reports to soft through. Running a mafia wasn’t all field work and fun, in fact for a Don, it was more paperwork and business acumen needed.

He wasn’t getting out of here alive and it was a fact he had known the instant Leonardo’s men had hauled him into the sub from the busy suburbs of New York. How he had been found was beyond him, but he must have been a fool to even imagine that he could get away from the D’Angelo clan and that too from Draco himself. Leonardo Draconis D’Angelo was called the Mafia King for a reason. He was known to kill first and ask questions of the dead body.