Moka Rosario Novels & Stories

“Not for me. But I know it is for you. And now you want answers, don’t you?” Dante gave a faint, humorless smile. “I have the answers. What I want now is to confirm how deep the Camorra is involved.” The tension thickened. Luca’s eyes gleamed with cunning and mockery. “The Camorra doesn’t dirty its hands with personal disputes. Let’s talk about your new pet.” He took a slow sip, savoring the moment. “They say there’s a woman at your villa—a Russian. An interesting choice.” Fabio tensed slightly behind Dante. De Luca was probing for a crack in the armor.

Their teamwork, their shared pain, was a pulse that steadied their empire, but Rosa’s intercept—the global mafia network’s message—loomed, a threat tied to Lorenzo’s allies. --- The command center was a scarred refuge, its dim light a shield against the city’s unrest. Kai sat by a map, his shoulder bruised, his hand entwined with Gianna’s. She leaned beside him, her leather jacket torn, her emerald eyes fierce but tender, their embrace lingering, their love a fortress. Rosa’s voice cut through, tense, her tablet glowing. “The network’s message names players—global bosses, Lorenzo’s old contacts. They’re planning a bigger hit.”

she snapped, her tone sharp and scolding even as she swallowed back her rising fear. “Let go,” he hissed. He snatched his hand from her grip, but Rosa was faster. Before he could reclaim the glass, she seized it and threw the contents into the sink, slamming it down on the bar counter. “I won’t let you drink that,” she whispered. Her voice was steady, even as her heart hammered against her ribs, terrified of the consequences of provoking the Mafia King. His glare intensified, turning darker. “Stop pretending you care,” he growled.

Marco drove into the gates of La Rosa Nera. The club's neon lights cast an eerie shadow over everything they touched. The club's pathway was a spectacle to behold. An archway adorned with beautiful black roses that resonated with the name of the club, La Rosa Nera (The Black Rose). The petals of these gorgeous flowers glittered and danced under the night sky. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and a fading sensation of danger that lingered.

What a great way to die huh? Where are you now, Armand Makkari? She thought to herself. Surely, one more meeting wouldn’t hurt. But then again, the tingle on her neck, right at the spot where he had bitten her was pulsing and it kinda prove her otherwise. ... Like every early morning, Rosa would go to the fresh market to buy vegs and fresh meat at a bargain price. It’s a norm by now which she has been doing for many years when she took the responsibility of helping her family.

For logistical reasons, we didn’t leave for the trip the next day, but two days later. Rosa, who had quietly been holding the best cards, surprised us by revealing that she still had a contact card given to her by one of the co-founders of IMTBIKE—a Spaniard named Alfredo Milmoar, the son of one of her patients during her university hospital rotations. Coincidence? Something told me this trip had been planned long before the graduation party, that I was the only one left out of the loop, and that sweet Rosa had been the one to suggest the motorcycle tour through Portugal’s landscapes.

Once he's done, a guard opens the door for us both to enter. Mira gets in first, and just as I'm about to get in, a gun shot echoes in the area. Freezing me stiff in my place. Slowly, I turn around, only to realize that we've been surrounded. What is even more terrifying isn't the guns they're with, but the words they say. "who is River Kruiz among you?" One of the goons ask, an AK 47 aimed my way. "Is it you?" And a lump forms in my throat.

Gia must have been behind all those bad comments. “Rosalia, Mateo’s sister, do you remember Mateo? Never mind,” he held the phone and urged his mother to focus on what he was going to say; “the point is that Rosalia told me, that Mateo told her, that your future wife works in a coffee shop in Manhattan. Which, let me tell you, is...”

“If you want to go, we’ll make it work.” She smiled up at me and looked back at the two women who looked shocked. Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the guys but they looked equally shocked. “What?” “I’m sorry, did I just see Marek Baranov smile?” Miguel looked from me to Ria. Ria turned and smiled, holding out her hand to Miguel. “I apologize. My name is Rosaria, Rosaria Baranov.” My heart swelled with pride. She didn’t stumble and she allowed Miguel to take her hand, though he was completely lost as to what was happening. He looked from her to me.

“Mom sent me when the city went dark. Said you’d need family.” Mamá’s voice was a sob, her body slumping as the river loosened. “Rosa, mija…” Rosa’s gaze softened, but her machete didn’t waver. “Tía, you raised us. Now we raise you.” She pressed the tablet to the river, code flooding it—Marco’s rewrite, but hers, infused with Puerto Rican grit, with boricua fire. The river screamed, thinning. Marco’s eyes fluttered open, silver scars flaring. “Rosa… you hacked it?”