Mafia Seat Novels & Stories

Seated around it were the heads of the four mafia families in Rome. Bianchi, his ever-present right-hand man looming behind him. Vincenzo, flanked by two towering enforcers. DeLuca, the infamous one-man warrior. Carveli, draped in a heavy fur coat, his bulldogs resting at his feet, drool pooling beneath their jowls. Jaxon pulled out a chair and sat, completing the circle. “Apologies for the delay.” His voice was steady, his expression straight. Carveli smirked, a cigar clamped between his teeth. “We’ve been having fun without you.” He gestured to the poker game. “You in?”

At the far end of the hall, beneath the largest chandelier stood the GREAT SIT of Casa Ndrangheta...the SEAT OF POWER. The throne-like structure stood elevated above the rest of the hall on black marble steps was impossible to ignore…it was impossible not to feel its authority pressing heavily across the room.

There are a lot of Mafia and Yakuza here and they are all dangerous and you won't want to fight. "Sebastian, how did it happen? Aren't you number one in the empire and Celeste's empire is only second? Why is Uncle Bernard the Emperor if your father should be?" Felassi asked. "In only three empires he is the leader but when over all Winchester's is the most powerful and dangerous Mafia Family in all of asia." Adey answered Felassi's question so we walked inside. The lights will be dim and many are already eating and talking to their fellow organizations. There are also plenty of vigilant reapers around to avoid mess.

Father replied. "Damn!" Mikael yelled. "You see brother? you're a pain in the ass even for mother." Xander spoke in a manner that angered me. "Don't worry Mikael, Lilith isn't gonna suffer, I know she's in good hands unlike that peasant in Hunter's room. Uh.. what's her name again?" "Hmm. Iesha." Father concluded. "How did you know that?" I was confused on how he knew her or even her name. "I'm the greatest Mafia there is remember?"

she yelled and Megan flinched stepping out and reaching out to her phone. Maximo sat on the black armchair, his hand wildly spread on the arm of the chair, while he stared at all the heads of the mafia clan seated across the long table. Of course, none of them was as powerful as him, Neither were they any as rich as him, but he was here for his uncle who had stood by him. He was willing to give them a listening ear.

“But you retired early and handed power to your son without notifying the board. Yes, he is your heir, and he has the right to succeed you, unless he is deemed incapable. But we never assessed that capability. And his behavior in the years since has not reassured us.” Mr. Vale wasn't bothered. “You’re questioning my son’s capability? He’s in charge for a few years and business has skyrocketed. We hold the top seat internationally. He achieved more in his twenties than most of you achieved in your entire lifetimes. What exactly is the purpose of this meeting?” A third man answered carefully. “As we all know, the mafia world is a dangerous world. Only the strongest survive. Most members do not

“The pack has formally spoken. We have made a final decision that we no longer want you as our rightful Alpha.” I laughed, the sound loud and sharp with disbelief, sitting back down slowly, my eyes scanning the faces of everyone in the room. “Is that truly so?” I said, my voice dripping with cold mockery. “You seriously think you can just vote me out of my rightful position? That’s hilarious and pathetic, Marcus. You’re acting like your statement is a real threat to me. Go on now, tell me—why do you honestly think you can successfully remove me from my power?”

Jeremy, to his right—my fiancé, the future heir, too busy with his phone to notice much of anything. I sat beside him, and directly across from me—Killian. Because of course he’d sit there. Because the universe had a twisted sense of humor. My father and sister flanked the far end, surrounded by the other families and their eldest sons—the power players in polished suits and bloody histories. It was a table built to discuss business and betrayals, sealed with vintage wine and the illusion of civility. And to my left… Mr. Hart. Apparently, he ran the legal front of the Mafia’s empire in Europe. That is, when he wasn’t busy being an oily, lying bastard with wandering hands.

I smiled and relaxed deeper into the seat, watching the ground fall away as the plane lifted into the sky. The cabin lights dimmed to a soft amber. Outside, the city shrank to glittering pins of light. I turned my head toward him. “Your father… I thought he was dead. Or that you were estranged. You never mentioned him.” Dante’s mouth curved, just a little. “This pretty head of yours thinks too much.” “I can’t help it. Mafia families are usually… divided. People in support, people against. Silence. I assumed…” He shook his head. “My family isn’t like that.”

“You have no idea who the fuck you are talking to right now. I ought to whip you until you bleed for this disobedient and disrespectful outburst.” Her eyes widened and her mouth went dry as it hung open. Not at his threats but rather the vclaim that he made—his words echoing in her mind. The mafia king? As in the leader of the vicious MMM group from Karachi? Never in a million years had Anissa thought that she would be facing the leader of the most powerful mafia in the country. The identity of the leader of the mafia was kept hidden from the public but his malicious and merciless killings and acts were infamous throughout the country. Anissa wasn’t that much of a news person or a socialite