Romans & histoires Marked By The Mob

They hit the autostrada north, a phantom convoy slicing through the darkness. "No police scanners. No external comms," Jay ordered, his voice flat. "This is a black site. It never existed." They found the lakeside villa breached, a silent, gaping wound in the tranquil night. The security detail—four of Marco's best—were down in the entry hall, not shot, but taken out with brutal, efficient close-quarters work. Professional. Not a robbery. An extraction.

"I swear, Alessia, I never meant for him to get involved. I just... I mentioned his name once, in passing. But these guys, they latch onto any information they can use." Alessia felt as though the floor had dropped out from under her. All this time, she'd thought she was protecting Marco by working for Nikolai. But if he was already on the Bratva's radar... "Does Marco know?" she asked, dreading the answer. "No," Tony said quickly. "At least, I don't think so. I kept him out of it. I figured he was in enough trouble already. Then he was picked up and was sent inside so it didn't matter. I thought it was over, but they came back. Demanded another name. That's why..." He gestured to his batter

And when Amanda had refused to fully submit, he had wiped the slate clean. But I had to be sure. As Moe and Carlos walked slowly towards the SUV, their postures defeated, I hesitated. A memory, sharp and sudden, pricked at my mind. The raiders who had attacked our group months ago, before we found this apartment complex. They had worn a symbol, a crude brand on their jackets. A symbol Eli’s men didn’t wear openly, but one I thought I’d glimpsed once, tattooed on the wrist of one of his more brutish enforcers.

Mark announced and Ferrell stood up "All mob leaders and underbosses knew the work pattern of Phoenixxx. The group which is recognised for its work and wealth. We are dealing with the traitors in the group. The black sheep!We all know the rules and regulations of the group. Still, someone had the audacity to challenge CAPO. "the murmur sound reverberated which made Falcone snap his finger at Mark. “Not to worry as we have already caught the sheep and Capo is here to witness the punishment of the mole in our group. Because Deceive and Lie would not be forgiven and forgotten.”Mark Completed.

I had been able to see the labels above people's heads ever since I was little. When I was three, my grandpa held a family dinner at his house. Dad showed up with his secretary, Vivian Clarke. The moment she walked through the door, she went straight to Mom's seat. She rubbed her lower back and smiled sweetly. "Mrs. Lincoln, I hope you don't mind. Mr. Lincoln and I have been working on a project all day, and we're exhausted." I looked around the room. Above Eric's head was a glaring label. "Cheater." Above Mom's head was a dull gray label. "Loser." And above Vivian's head was a brightly shining label. "Ultimate gold digger." I immediately tugged on Eric's sleeve and asked loudly, "Dad, what

I say, and step outside. The stone bridge stretches long and wide beneath the blistering sun. I pause midway, chest heaving. It’s scorching out. I start questioning my decision. I have no idea where I’m going. I’ve never walked Bloodthorn before. I only recognize a few signs from passing carriage rides. Still, I keep walking until my feet ache in my shoes. And then—there it is. A mob. A crowd armed with sticks, stones, and placards. They don’t notice me. They charge past, their chants loud and full of fury.

Cold sweat instantly broke out across Marcus's forehead. So the signs had been there all along. An Alpha having his mate bond severed was a major event for any pack. Overnight, Marcus was pushed straight into the center of public scrutiny. Even his mother called him, insisting that both families sit down together to discuss the fallout from the broken bond. The atmosphere at home was stifling. Marcus's parents were visibly unhappy. My own parents were no better, hurling curses my way. They called me shameless, saying I was dead weight.

I don't answer. My room is exactly how I left it. Unmade bed. Half-empty coffee cup. Sketchbook open to a half-finished drawing of a wolf I don't remember drawing. I slam the door shut and press my back against it, sliding to the floor. My hands shake as I roll up my sleeve. The mark is still there. And for the first time, in the dim light, I realize It looks like a bite.

It was an angry mob like the news had reported,but what had me puzzled was how strangely bold they all were. They had burned the company to the ground, but they didn't run. Did they have a backer or was this something set up by one of Andre's rivals? It didn't make sense. Normally, they would be scared of being arrested, but they weren't. I also learnt of how Mark was attacked by a guy. That was how the woman had succeeded in stabbing him. When he was done with explaining, the ward went silent. We each had our own thoughts, and the only sound was the one from the machine.

Of course, whoever was with the woman probably needed somewhere nice to sit as it took a while with this sort of thing. “You and me both” she said, “but I gotta say some of those looked alright, we definitely haven’t found YOUR dress yet.” She wasn’t wrong, some of them had been decent enough, but none that really won me over. Exasperated I shook out my low ponytail, twisted my hair, and shoved it up into a sloppy bun on the top of my head. I heard a gasp and turned to see the saleslady staring at me. I realized, belatedly, that my tattoo was visible. In the mob, or mafia as it was typically called, we had distinguishing marks; one of the most frequent being strategically placed tattoos. Thi