Nashatra X Mafioso Novels & Stories

As we say goodbye and draw the curtains of Pains of Amara, lets welcome Nicole and Raphael story in: A MAFIA'S POSSESSION Anticipate my new story "A Mafia's Possession" A dark mafia romance of two star crossed lovers. Take care you all!

“Bastards like you deserve to die.” “What… what are you going to do?” the man stammered, his bravado crumbling. His voice shook as he backed up, clutching his bruised ribs. “This bar’s under Mr. Mason’s protection. You know who he is?” Nero stepped forward, his presence a storm ready to break. The man’s words meant nothing—Mr. Mason, whoever he was, wouldn’t save him. Natasha lay behind him, vulnerable, her freedom stolen by men like this. Nero’s fists tightened, ready to end it.

~Emilia’s Point of View~ “Well are you,” I asked again, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to my chest. His eyes darted all over the place. Was he … mafia? Oh no. Ohh … no. My eyes flicked to his tattoos. I watched enough TV to know I was in deep shit. “If she were a male, yes,” he said, matter of fact. A sudden surge of anger flooded through me, but not at my mate. Natalie had to know this would happen, you don’t just fuck over people for that kind of money and expect them to let it go. Then, a light bulb went off in my head.

He spoke with gritted teeth, a dark expression looming over his features. "H-he pushed me against the wall and uh- I-I banged my head against it really bad and he t-threatened me while grabbing my n-neck." I managed to explain as I made no attempt to hold the tears that are streaming down my face. I don't fully fathom why I am even crying right now but I am just letting it all out. Around Asher, it feels safe to let it all out. He stepped closer, making me flinch. The look on his face, the tone of his voice, everything screamed Asher Lancaster, the merciless mafia, who wouldn’t waste a breath before wiping off the existence of anyone who even dares to mess with him.

“You want to be around me, Grace? Then you should know the kind of world I built.” My stomach twisted. I had guessed parts of it. I have thought he was into guns, drugs, and trafficking, but seeing it this real and organized was another thing entirely. “This is how you make your money?” I asked, my voice above a whisper. “This is how I built power,” he corrected. “Legit fronts, dirty roots. That is how the mafia works. In this life, you either own the system or you get eaten by it.” I looked around again, at the people working like it was just another Monday at work. No fear. No hesitation.

Marco hesitated for a brief moment. "Boss, there's talk in the streets. Carla's aligning with smaller gangs. She's building an army." Vito's eyes turned dark, and a dangerous smirk pulled at his lips. "An army? Let her. The bigger her play, the harder she'll fall when I crush her." One of the other men, a younger enforcer named Luca, shifted uncomfortably. "But, Boss, what if she's using this unrest to distract us? What if the riots are a smokescreen for something bigger? Vito's sharp gaze shifted to Luca, the weight of his stare making the young man flinch.

“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.

All too well did I know the car and the man it bespoke. The doors opened as one, and three men spilled out. They moved with deliberate calculation, sans tailored suits or obvious weaponry, yet exuding an aura of threat. It was in their posture-the predatory assurance, the faint, smug smiles-that put my teeth on edge. My opponent. Victor Moretti. What was he doing here of all places? My hold on Lena's hand tightened involuntarily. She gasped, looking up at me with wide, enquiring eyes, but at that moment, I just couldn't afford to give her even a second of my attention. A million and one scenarios flooded my mind, none of them good.

"I will try this application." A little hesitant, but curious, Arsenio pressed the application. [Welcome to the Strongest Mafia System type 1.] [Press Yes, for the next step.] Arsenio pressed 'Yes' as instructed. [NEW DATA] [Name: Arsenio Bagas Guan.] [Age: 30 years old.] [Race Type: Human.] [Position: Mafia System Owner.] [Action Points: 750.] [Victory Points: 600.] [Skill: 300/1000.]

I’m not one to allow people close to me physically or mentally, but I didn’t feel the need to push him away as his intentions didn't seem malicious. The rosé wine bottle arrives, and he says, “Ask away.” I begin my inquiry, “What is your name?” He says, “Alessandro Bianchi.” Bianchi? No. That…That belongs to one of the most powerful mobsters in the city. I gulp and ask, “Okay…Who were you shoot…shooting yesterday?” He answers, without a glint of emotion, “Santino Martino’s gang member, he had been hired to kill me and the gang is my biggest rival.”