Metro Man Cape Novels & Stories

“What?” “The mate bond is back, son,” my father said, and Makena and I looked at each other in disbelief. Marcus spoke next. He said we had done it; we had broken the curse. However, we didn’t understand how and couldn't dwell on it, as we were already late for my official appointment as the Capo. But just as we all got up to head to where the seating would take place, the lights in the room went out, and loud gasps echoed through the room before everything fell silent.

Smith gasped and fell on Falcone’s feet “Capo I'm sorry… I am sorry. I was listening to the new entry in the mansion.I..I..I was curious but when I was asked to check on some kid I couldn't stop myself and reached your floor. I didn't know about Mam. Mercy Capo Mercy….I will go far with my family. Please leave me.” he begged “Tck Tck, you are begging in front of the wrong person. People should think first before messing with me , but it's human nature what can I Do? Emry gave him a peaceful death!” falcone dectated

I asked. He gave his head a little shake and said, "You know what, he's more than just a Capo to me, he's my closest friend, my brother. But he messed up, big time. As Made Men, we have a rule to never touch or harm each other's wives. I feel he owes you an apology for his actions." My eyes widened, I couldn't imagine Capo being sorry to me, "No, it's alright. I'm fine, I don't want his apology, he scares me."

EMILIA POV The front door burst open before Marco could argue further. Five men in Crimson Reapers colors strutted in like they owned the place. I recognized their president immediately Victor "Viper" Kane, a man whose reputation for cruelty was legendary even by MC standards. Kane was tall and lean, with pale eyes and graying hair slicked back from his angular face. Expensive suit instead of leather, but the gun under his jacket was visible to anyone who knew how to look.

And so he did. A middle-aged, pale-faced guy was kneeling on both knees in front of us beside the open bottle of fizz. I recognized a capo who’d shared the Marconi’s message with the crowd. I was wrong about the boys: someone didn’t like that stunt too much. The capo’s right arm hung loose from his shoulder and there was blood on the hand with fat fingers that used to be attached to it. With his other hand he was trying to pick up an automatic from the marble floor in front of him.

20 JASMINE “I‘m sorry about Matteo,” Adrian sighed. “I know that he can come across a bit strong and intimidating.” “It’s fine,” I shrugged. I shook my head, running my hands through my hair stressfully. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from your meeting.” “Don’t be silly,” Adrian shushed, getting on his feet, running to the shower to give his body a quick wash. “I’m the Capo. The rules can be bent to suit me.”

He was a 6'3 man, built like a Greek God with sharp features, like that of a warrior, sharp blue eyes, infectious smile; though he never smile in front of these people, dirty blond hair, thick sharp brows and a very sharp jaw draped with trimmed beard that gave him such a handsome look that all the women were drooling over him. But then subtly the room shifted. Not loudly. Not obviously. But Victor felt it. That subtle shift in energy. He turned. And there he was. Lorenzo Moretti. The great Capo di Capi. The man who built empires with blood and patience. Their eyes met across the room. Tension stretched. Cold. Heavy. Unforgiving. Moretti smiled. But Victor didn’t. He'd rather empty his gun i

To hell with Trans-Port, at least they couldn’t get at me here. I’d always been fond of this time of day in Capistrano with the late sunshine dazzling off the centuries old rooftops and gold-fringing the palms and Cedars long the River-way. There were no palms along the ‘River Wey’ though. I scoffed my M & S sandwiches on a bench under what should have been the Arco de las Conquistadoras but was now ‘Tunsgate’. The pillars were a different style; simple Doric rather than the more sculpted Corinthian.

Adult life in the city of dreams. Welcome to life in Metro City. The city that never sleeps.

To Amy, the metal man looked like a bronze statue of 2Pac if it came to life. She saw the electric light in his eyes glowing like a charging light on a smartphone. His chiseled, metallic chest resembled body armor on a gladiator. Amy’s words were stuck in her throat as she stared at 2Pac. She didn’t want to be fascinated by a robotic man wearing blue jeans. Amy tried to keep her focus on her son sitting in the metal man’s arms. She looked up at the robotic 2Pac, who towered over her. His carved titanium alloy-covered shoulder muscles shimmered from the auto factory ceiling’s lights shining down on his six-foot-four frame.