Mysterio Novels & Stories

Dante: “The fucking bastard bought Mikhail’s shares, and had him as his CEO, or in other words, puppet; that means, that we are now partners with Giovanni and Mattia, while working with a puppet of the two bastards” Leonardo said, handing me the file that just arrived “and it doesn’t seem like Mikhail would withdraw on any of his shares now that he has Giovanni by his side” “The man is sick” I said, watching as Aurora sat down to look at the two of us.

He really wasn’t worried. “Won’t you say anything?”. She asked. “I have nothing to say". He said. "I guess I’ll have to say goodbye sooner than I expected.” “What do you mean?”. She looked confused. Tristan sent her a lopsided grin. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out Abby.” Abigail shook her head at his cryptic answer. He was supposed to be nicknamed Mysterio instead of Whitey.

Copyright, Nihc Ronoel All Rights Reserved 2020 MYSTERIOUS OBSESSION “Where can your obsession finally lead you?” Aris Sandoval was such a good-for-nothing type of a Casanova, but behind his charming looks that were effortlessly used to leave trails of brokenhearted women wherever he went, lies an obsessed heart longing for an extraordinary woman from his past. Will he still continue his mysterious obsession, once he found the right love with a different woman?

“Orgullo was a king that died a long time ago. His spirit was trapped in the fountain. He waited so long and we were naïve enough to free him,” Estrela said, her fingers curling into fists. “I was naïve enough to free him. Mestre Escuro… he just wanted to stop me. Stop us from burning the witched and uniting everyone under Orgullo’s rule.” Luz’s jaw clamped shut so hard his teeth ached. The world was not turning the way he had been told. He had been operating under a singular, violent truth: Mestre Escuro was the monster, and he was the traitor who had joined him. But Estrela was painting a different picture. A picture where Mestre Escuro was a barrier… a containment.

She asked, clearly in awe of how I knew there was someone else in the room. “I’m surprised too, now tell me. Did he introduce himself? Who was he?” I pressed further and she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know much, but from what I gathered, his name is George Mysterio..” she responded and my heart exploded in my ears. “I’m sorry, I thought you said Mysterio…” I muttered back but her face didn’t change. “That’s because that is what I said, his name is George Mysterio..” she repeated as she applied something on my sprained ankle.

I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned. “He did help me, but it doesn’t warrant me owing him anything. Things were happening, and I was desperate. The mystic pack was growing in power, and he gave me some information. He told me you were the target, and Beta Scott isn’t exactly a beta. He was a spy who duped us or Luna Sapphire.” A shiver ran down my spine. I permanently scarred his face. Enzo said they didn’t find his body in the pack, which means he’s alive somewhere. The mystic pack isn’t totally dead. I refuse to believe that.

Mystic squeezed Aaron’s hand. Her voice threaded into his mind: Let me. He inclined his head. She stepped forward, spine straight, chin lifted. “My name is Mystic Hayes — daughter of Helen and Dawson Hayes. I have not walked these lands since I was a child, but they are still my heritage.” She turned her forearm outward. A glowing tattoo shimmered beneath her skin — intricate, ancient, unmistakable. “I bring this mark as proof.” The head warrior slowly descended from his position and approached her, his boots echoing on stone. Aaron shifted instinctively — ready to move — but Mystic remained still.

“But I have other aspirations in life. Becoming a mafia wife was never part of my plan.” “Watch your words when you speak of my son,” Mirella warned without looking at her, her attention fixed on the painting as if each word she spoke was just another stroke of the brush. “Dante isn’t just a simple mafioso, as you say. He is the leader of the ’Ndrangheta. The mere mention of the Bellandi name makes lesser men tremble. Don’t get it twisted, girl.” Her tone was soft, but every syllable carried a sharp edge—a reminder that Svetlana was a foreigner in a world that didn’t belong to her.

“Look, you’re mad. Punch me.” “I think getting physical doesn’t suit my temper,” I said. “You’re petty. This is low.” “You haven’t seen her being petty yet,” another voice broke into our conversation. The owner of the voice walked down the stairs, black almond-shaped eyes looked down amused. He was half Korean, nicknamed Misha. His birth name was Gun Min He. He was the oldest member of KJM, having quit the FBI four years ago to work with us. With a lean, muscular figure and a height of about 5’8”, he had a presence that commanded attention.

Levi was gifted like that, he could get in anywhere, and you never heard him coming. “I’ll be back in a bit. I know you’re going to need some Scotch for tonight’s bullshit meeting,” Levi said, and walked out again. Malachi smiled, and shook his head. Levi was right though. Malachi walked to the living room, planning on getting himself a drink, when he spied the man standing with his back toward him. The stranger was gazing out of the window. He had light brown hair and stood about 6’2” tall.. The stranger turned around, and Malachi noticed the fern like marks on his left arm. It started at his wrist and went all the way up to his neck. “Malachi Sinclair.”