Mafia Vs Gangster Mga Nobela at Kwento

Chiara Moretti Alessandro stared down at me, his jaw tight. "You say that now," he said, and took a step toward me. "But you do not understand what you are asking for, Chiara. The mafia world is not a boardroom. It is not about signing papers or making smart investments. It is a world built on blood, loyalty, and extreme violence. It is filled with people who will not hesitate to cut your throat just to send a message."

He arched a fraction of his brows and watched her in levity. "Is that what you called us? Gangster?" "So you are then?" His smile faded and he had gazed out the window, ignoring her question. Calling him a gangster felt like an insult to him. He was no gangster. The Italian mafia always detested when people had called them that. They were different, although their goals were somewhat similar. The Italian mafia would not bring harm to women and children. They would avoid killing civilians, non-affiliated people. But once you crossed into their world, usually by some business transactions, you are pretty much fair game. They had more clout, money, resources, and contacts than gangsters. They w

If he just left his mafia then it would've been so easy for Serrano to kill his whole family because of no security. Once a mafia, was always a mafia. He has killed a lot of bastards. Didn't she know they would come to kill him and his family as soon as they knew he was playing a normal man and left his empire behind. It wasn't that easy, perhaps it wasn't even possible. She didn't know the cruelty of this world but he did. The more powerful you are the better because the weak ones were nothing more than a pawn in this world. She has hurt him for three fucking years. Every day he prayed. He didn't know to whom he was praying but he prayed for the safety of her and Chase.

Martin asked casually, leaning on the rail beside him. Lorenzo didn’t answer directly. "You recorded it? Or hacked it?" Martin shrugged. "Does it matter? The important thing is: I have it." "What do you want? Money?" Lorenzo asked, already fishing for how deep this would go. Martin let out a low chuckle. "Money? Please. That’s too simple. No, I want something much more useful." He turned, locking eyes with Lorenzo. "I want access. You’re Raphael's brother. You work inside his empire. I want you to be my eyes and ears. Feed me information. Sabotage when necessary. Undermine quietly."

I aimed and fired twice; one dropped, the other ducked. Rafa was already returning fire, cool and precise. He didn't seem caught off guard; he looked like he’d done this a thousand times. Because, well, he’s a mafia boss; I wouldn’t expect anything less. A bullet grazed Rafa’s side, making him flinch, but he didn't fall. Instead, he pressed his hand to the wound, blood seeping through his shirt. “I'm fine,” he said through gritted teeth. He wasn't, but he’d survive. A small injury wouldn’t do much harm.

“They’re brothers. Mafia in Sicily. The head honcho, Aamon De Luca, their dad, was killed.” My mind keeps drifting back to something I caught on TV a while back in Sierra’s office. She seemed to know the brothers and had a soft spot for one of them. I squint, trying to recall her exact words. She was pretty specific, like there was more beneath the surface. I thought about digging deeper then, but it didn’t seem relevant to either of my jobs. “The organization is falling apart. Nolan and Flint are on the brink of a full-blown war.” “And?” How well does Sierra really know these guys? Sometimes, the ties between people run deeper than they look.

I’m not one to allow people close to me physically or mentally, but I didn’t feel the need to push him away as his intentions didn't seem malicious. The rosé wine bottle arrives, and he says, “Ask away.” I begin my inquiry, “What is your name?” He says, “Alessandro Bianchi.” Bianchi? No. That…That belongs to one of the most powerful mobsters in the city. I gulp and ask, “Okay…Who were you shoot…shooting yesterday?” He answers, without a glint of emotion, “Santino Martino’s gang member, he had been hired to kill me and the gang is my biggest rival.”

I laughed at how Marco said those words so comically. “Then I said, I’m Marco. Who the hell are you? Gab was so surprised that he did not notice he was with a stranger this whole time, but he said thanks for helping him earlier. However, before we got to celebrate our newly built friendship. The people after me found Gab’s place and waited until I walked out of it. But because I wasn’t familiar with the area, I asked Gab to take me to where I could get a cab. I did not know danger was lurking outside Gab’s door when we walked out of his home. I remained cautious because I did not know who and where my enemies were for sure, but I noticed the surrounding was full of street gangsters and would

More importantly, what had motivated him to abandon his calling? Genevieve wondered if Raffalle was the boss, or if there was another boss. Raffalle had seemed pretty powerful to her when she’d met him the night of their vacation as if he were the one who gave all the orders for how the mob universe should run. But something about the power that emanated off Raffalle told her different. But then, what about Clint’s other bosses .She remember one she saw the night Clint introduced her as his wife to be , but his name wasn't coming to her head .He was old, certainly, but he could still be the boss. She remembered how he clung to the back of the room like a fading cologne, observing everything

" On your right side. Turn the lamp on. " Catalina found the switch and pressed it. As soon as she touched it, an alarm went off. The pakhan snatched the gun from her hands and with one hand pushed her on the bed with him. She collided with his naked hard chest and now the gun rested on her cleavage. " Rule number 1 . Never believe a Mafia. " He laughed loudly and footsteps echoed in the corridor. The door opened with several men in there and one of them switched on the lights at last.