Moriarty Novels & Stories

"Yes, there are some who want money. Some who are just plain crazy. Some who like killing for the sake of it." I know where this is going. "And some who want to kill just because they hate non-humans?" She nods. "Yes. They're called purists." "So, the Silver Hunters have all these different factions within the group... And no one knows anything about them?" "Not until they're in your face." Alice stops walking. "Until it's too late." Ice fills my veins, and the wolf in the woods comes to mind. Was that a normal animal I saw? Or something else?

She lifted her chin. "I'll get into it. But you must know that this man is not just any man, he's a Don, and it won't be that easy to take out the head of a mafia empire." "Spare me the theatrics. He's a man like everyone else." She turned to leave. "Call me when you have evidence of a body." She exited and banged the door behind her. "Bitch!" The man screamed before he rubbed his bald head. _Isabella The second I opened my eyes, I looked around without any idea what time it was. The fact that we had slept in the morning was going to mess up my sleep routine for days.

How they entered without any member of the guard or pack knowing was a huge mystery to him. "What if one of the pack members had a hand in this?" he thought. He wouldn't raise or jump into conclusions yet, at least not until the doctor had come and given him the diagnosis. Never in his life had he felt more helpless towards anything or anyone in his entire life span. He was Damien, he had answers to anything and everything, he was feared and even reverenced in all places of life. He was supposed to be the greatest. But, here he was looking at his mate dying and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He didn't want to cry or anything, but he just couldn't lose her, for fucks sake

“Exactly. Whoever he is, he’s careful. Whoever set this up knows how to erase footprints. This isn’t a random investor. He’s someone who knows how we operate. And he is someone who has a close eye within the council, if not elsewhere as well.” I leaned back, staring at the file, the blank paper that somehow weighed heavier than a full one. A clean ghost. That was worse than a known threat. “Keep looking,” I said finally. “If he’s not a D’Amaris, then I want to know who the hell he is. Find every Lorenzo you can linked to the western packs. Or anyone who’s used that name before. And if not Lorenzo, then trace D’Amaris. That surname came from somewhere. I want a trail, no matter how faint. And

Holding my latte. Living my normal, innocent life. “What the—” I choked out, hands trembling. Then I saw the line under it. Assigned to Execute: Damon Moretti. Deadline: One week. I didn’t breathe for a whole ten seconds. Damon Moretti. Even people who didn’t know the mafia world knew that name. He was The Wolf’s favorite weapon. The man who completed every job. No mistakes. No mercy. No survivors. A ghost with a heartbeat. A killer in a tailored suit.

"What do we know about this man?" Roman cleared his throat. "He was in the mafia organisation many years ago but he quit. Now we know nothing other than he's a businessman. Every other thing about him is discreet." The others watched silently as Nikolai walked toward the glass wall overlooking the city skyline. "I don’t believe in coincidences," he said quietly after a long silence. "If my private seal was used, someone inside opened the door for him." Roman swallowed hard, but before he could say a thing, Victor chirped. "You think someone betrayed us?"

“That boy, I need to know who his mother is.” I turned the wheels, smoothly curving through the sharp bend on the road “Do you I look like a hacker to you?” “Don't play games with me Alduro?” “Games?” He chuckled. “You are asking me to find medical records he would have have properly and decoratively sealed. Surveillance I can do. Murder I can do but not hacking.” I literally growled at him before I let out a deep exhale. He was right. “Give me a name.” “Montolo. I hope you still have a breathing account because dude will suck you dry.”

If anything, my years as dispatcher had taught me resilience. Where did a man with no digital footprint conduct his real business? I hesitated and breached regional security clearance files. My breath caught. Got him. His pictures flooded my screen. Devastating photos, each one carrying an unsettling energy. The kind that could make good women ignore their instincts. The file expanded and my blood turned cold. Dominic Morvanti was one of the largest weapons manufacturers in the region. The man who made me feel seen. The man who called me Little Bird. The man who looked at me like I was precious.

Apparently, in order to get the crystal, he had killed a disobedient arms dealer. “He won’t suspect you. He’ll just think that this is God’s punishment for his sin,” I whispered. Damian Morrety. That name meant absolute rule in Zolnah’s underground. He was the sole heir of the Morrety family, a huge criminal empire that had seized control over the borders of the far east and Auropa. As for me, I was just a dirt-covered weed who crawled out of the slums at the borders. According to the rumors, our union was a real-life mafia fairy tale.

At that, everyone, including Morticia and the fiend warriors, reeled in shock. So he was the Black Tortoise King's son. He had ended in that state because he tried to frame Darryl Darby. Morticia snapped back to her senses upon the realization. She could not hold back the mockery and disgust in her gaze. "Well, I can't say you don't deserve it for doing something so despicable." Morticia was one of the twelve Fiend Martyrs, known for her ruthlessness, but she was not without her principles. She detested people who cheated and played dirty.