Mafia Men: Nikolai's Inferno Mga Nobela at Kwento

he growled, taking another step forward. “I know enough!” I threw some of the papers at him. They scattered across the floor between us. “You inflated the debt. You planned this. I was never collateral by accident. I was chosen. Like a fucking prize!” The temperature in the room dropped. Nikolai’s expression turned ice-cold. The man who had held me gently last night disappeared completely. This was the Mafia King. The killer. “You went through my private things,” he said slowly, voice terrifyingly quiet. “After everything I’ve done to protect you and your daughter. After I killed for you.”

"Who master Max?" "Nothing." How is that woman knows that Omega? Maximillian asks himself. After an hour of travelling, Maximillian arrived at the manor of his clan, where Nostra Adamus mafia clan can be found far away from the city. Legis opened his door for him, when Maximillian got out of the car, his waiting people immediately bowed and greeted him, Maximillian walked straight ahead with Legis following him in the back. "Did Mr. Sanchez, agreed on our terms?" Maximillian ask.

I bit my lips as I heaved a sigh, "The name on the file is Jaylen Noire Adryan, I am sure you are aware of that." "Yes, I am very well aware," Alexis put off her massage chair. How would anybody decide to just wake up and kill Jaylen, it's like signing a death contract and I didn't sign one. "And you want me to kill him? That man Is well protected, I am also sure you are well aware of that," I tried my best to be calm because I'm around Alexis. The person they wanted me to eliminate is one of the youngest, most successful and notorious mafia lords, Jaylen Noire Adryan. He is the king of the underground world and he is the kind of person someone like me would never want to cross paths with.

hearing her the man replied angrily again shutting her mouth. (Translation: The way you are working I can see the wall getting down soon. They will get to know we are only being threats in disguise of Russian mafia and we aren't actually no where near it. Mikhail will kill us this time.) Zia's brows creased because she thought it will be easy for her to seduce Nicholas and make him fall in love with her and after trapping him they were planning of his doom but their plan backfired on them. Mikhail Igor Gorbachev the actual Mafia boss of Russia got to know about their plan and they know soon he will expose them which they can't let him do.

But the man reaches for my hand, nodding with a smirk before he claps Niko on the back with a sure grin. "Beautiful, beautiful. Now I see why you needed something as beautiful as a rare red diamond," he grins. They whisper amongst themselves as I regard the girl next to the man before me. She looks shit-faced, probably high on Christ knows what. And yet, a smile plays on her lips as if she's pleased to be here. Niko excuses us a few minutes later to walk along only a few steps behind the Russians. This man I know is one of the three men destined to stand beside Luca, one-third of whom will one day lead the Italian mafia for my generation.

He took a step forward, his voice rising. “So, you’re saying Nikolai paid off my guards to escape?” Marcelo Petrov, leader of the Petrovskaya Mafia, shifted in his seat. His voice carried across the table, calm but cutting. “Yes. That is what it seems. And all of this has happened just as we finally agreed to name you as the future Pakhan.” The council murmured. Eyes darted between Mikhail and Marcelo. The insult was open, deliberate. Eli Romanov slammed his hand on the table. His voice rose in defense. “You have no right to speak to the future Pakhan in that tone.”

“When I found Nikolai, he was lost. He wasn't sure of who he was or the purpose of his life, his humanity was flickering, fighting to take back control. My father saw the potential in him, we convinced him to turn off the guilt and accept who he truly was without shame. That was the birth of the scariest mafia demon the Yakuza had seen, those were glorious days of terror…” “Saikō-Keibi Vetrov, second only to the Oyabun. We called him the Winter Harbinger Of Pain and Death. Nikolai made my father quite a popular man among his peers, his rank, dominance and wealth surged on a national scale. This emotionless blood hungry demon, he became the talk of the town and we all thought it would be fore

Lila, halfway down the stairs in her pajamas, froze at the sight of the men on the threshold. Four of them. Black coats, black gloves, faces carved from stone. The one in front was the tallest—broad-shouldered, dark-haired, with eyes the pale gray of winter skies over the Neva River. A scar cut through his left eyebrow, giving him a permanent look of disdain. Nikolai Volkov. Even she knew the name. Head of the Volkov Bratva in New York. Ruthless. Untouchable. Vincent’s voice cracked. “Nikolai. I asked for more time—”