Mafia Men: Nikolai's Inferno Novels & Stories

She muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, turning to the chef. “You heard her, didn’t you?” He asked and the maid nodded, heading back to the open kitchen. Chiara’s gaze flicked to the other man sitting across from Dante. He had black hair, light olive skin and a small black moustache under his nose. He was the only person she knew nothing about. The man, seeming to notice her curious stare, looked up and flashed her a slight grin. “I’m Nico, Dante’s best friend.”

Blow after blow, and pain exploded over her form. "Titus," one of the men said with a lazy tone, "you're gonna kill her if you're not careful. And I ain't had my way with her yet." A snicker arose among the men. Dad, no, Titus, paused, breathing heavily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then grabbed his jacket from the couch. “She’s not worth it,” he muttered, turning to his friends. “Let’s get out of here. I need a whore.”

Niccolo, my cousin, was insane, but he was good with a gun and ran them without getting taken down. Which wasn't easy to do. And Dario? He was a good five years older than me but he had no desire to run anything. His expertise lay in cooking books and laundering money. Each of them played a role and I couldn't run things as smoothly as I did without them. "What's going on, Ama?" Riccardo pried. "Two more of our warehouses were hit last night." "Shit," Gabriele frowned, our impasse forgotten. "What was taken?"

“I can’t say… I’m begging you…” Lorenzo stood up. “Wrong answer.” He slammed his fist into the man’s stomach. The man groans, coughing and spitting blood. “Who is buying from you?” Lorenzo asked again. The man shook his head. “Please… forgive me… I didn’t mean to… My mother is sick… I needed the money…” “Wrong answer again.” Lorenzo turned to his men. “Rip the skin off his back. Feed it to the dogs.” “Amigo”

Five guards step out of it, and fall into step behind me instantly. With my phone in a pocket, and a pistol in my hand; eyes filled with deathly fury as we approach. The moment I step in, the sight before me makes my heart stop. Not because its new, I've seen thousands of dead bodies, it was worse after an all out war between two ruthless mafia Lords. What made my heart stop is the implication. "This is a lot." I mutter, noting the extent of damage that had been done. The thought of innocents being murdered, and killed for something they didn't do or had no idea of; makes my heart ache.

“They hired a Russian mobster who played me horrible. I managed to turn the situation around and not get so hurt, but this one is capable of anything. It's a real animal. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. “Do you understand why I really need someone to trust, Mina?” He asks me in his broken voice. “I feel like everyone wants to hurt me. I've done horrible things in my life, but this last time I've tried to fix it by getting all this shit out of me, trying to cut ties with these people, but they're the worst scum that can exist in the world.” “Black... That Russian mobster who played you is…” “Yes, Mina. He's Mikael Sydow's own son of a bitch.”

Don Niko? Then I remembered where I had heard his name. Alexander's birthday party, four months ago. Alexander was talking about Don Niko to papa. I have seen papa shiver from his name. My papa, King Octavius, a tyrant, and ruthless King is afraid of Don Niko. I suddenly felt like they indeed have not tortured me. I have heard stories about the mafia, gruesome and gory stories that made me realize, I had it easy. "Come on, let's go upstairs"

“Too late.Whats good for the goose also apploes to the gander” And then we walked down together. The cameras flashed. The music swelled. Every mafia family worth a damn had shown up — which was a problem, because I recognized all the devils. Including him. Nico Salvador. Old serpent in a five-thousand-dollar suit. Standing too close to the stage, smiling like he wasn’t planning something wicked. Nero’s fingers flexed on my waist and drank up the rest of his cocktail at a go.His face set in a murderous expression

THEMES EXPLORED INCLUDE POWER IMBALANCE, OBSESSION, MANIPULATION, AND REDEMPTION IN A SETTING WHERE MORALITY IS BLURRED AND EMOTIONS RUN DANGEROUSLY DEEP. PLEASE PROCEED ONLY IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH DARK, INTENSE, AND TABOO STORYTELLING. READER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED. PROLOGUE Kieran ~~~~~ It was time. I had waited for years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds that stretched into what felt like an eternity. Russo’s men were gathered from the distance, with guns placed firmly on their hips. They didn’t even notice me; I simply stood there, watching them, my eyes tracing every movement, every gesture, as if memorizing the moment before it'll fall apart.

Nikolai crossed his arms. “Uncle Adrik teaches me boring things.” “Like?” “Chess.” “That’s useful.” “Not cool.” Damian chuckled quietly. “What exactly do you think the mafia does?” Nikolai leaned back and began counting on his fingers. “Guns.” “Fast cars.” “Secret meetings.” “Fighting bad guys.” Anton walked over at that moment. “Your description is disturbingly accurate.” Nikolai lit up. “See!” Damian rubbed his temple.