Nico Russo Book Novelas e Histórias

It took a moment for Emilio to calm his fury, taking a seat behind his desk, he gestured to the seat in front of him. “What do you know about him so far?” He rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. “He used to run within the Verdi circle.” I leaned forward, my own elbows resting on my knees. “Used to?” He raised a brow at me. “That’s all we could find out. He has no other connections that we could find.” Emilio wasn’t too pleased with the last statement. His palms planted the desk firmly but made no sound. “Russo is a ghost, an alias. That much we know.” I continued, hoping that would placate him somewhat.

He looked at Laila. Laila nodded at me, I gave my nod. "Tell Lucifer I said hi, but I can't visit now." She winked and fired a bullet straight to his heart. "Russo's cousin is making an army to put you down. Why should he get revenge for your grandfather? Meaning this cousin is close to him. Any idea who Nico?" She said, her tone is full of concern and curiosity. "He could be a friend or a brother to him," Alessio said.

I shot the handle off. Inside: maps, guns, photos. Russo. Me. Luca. And a letter, open on his desk. To me. If you’re reading this, I’m dead. Or you’re gone. Either way, I failed. Rule twenty-six: Don’t mourn me. Win. I folded it. Put it in my pocket. Picked up a red pin. Genoa was burning. But Russo was still breathing. 349 days left. No contract. No Alessandro. Just me.

This so-called secret was obviously was not good news. Wiping his eyes, his dad moved away. “Get some sleep. You have to stay out late tonight.” Nico nodded and obediently walked over to his room. ‘So is it the war or the Alpha king or... what is it?’ He found a random book on his table. “Huh. This is not mine,” he picked it up. It was a hardbound leather book with hand stitched bindings. Curiously, he opened it up. Inside there were pages and pages unknown writing. It was a language that he did not have any knowledge of.

Nico’s voice drilled through his thoughts, snapping him back to the reality of horrible music that played in the background. “Huh?” Nico nodded at the books in the transparent plastic bag. “All those books you have there, I’m beginning to get curious because you see, I love books too.” Theo cocked his head to the side as he stared at him, his interest piqued. “Really? Well you definitely don’t look like the type.” “Haha, that’s a bit insulting.” “Yeah, I’m sorry.” A slight pause, then, “what do you do?”

“You’re supposed to be buried beneath twenty tons of cement and ash.” “And yet,” Nico shrugged, “here I am.” Inside the villa, Luca poured whiskey with shaking hands. Nico took it like he’d never left. “Where the hell have you been?” Luca demanded. “Off the grid. Syria. Argentina. Three years in a Russian prison.” He raised his glass. “To survival.” Luca didn’t drink. “You let me think you were dead.” “I was. For a while.” “Why now? Why come back?” Nico leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

He smirked. "Let me talk to him first." Russo said. Not waiting for his reply, he climbed down the car. He strode forward and darted his cold gaze around. "I thought I should welcome the groom." Niko chuckled, drawing himself away from his car. His arms dropped to his sides and his hands fisted. "Without my wife, it is a bad idea." He said intensely, his face betraying no expression. "I fucking hate you. What makes you think I'll ever let you be near her." Niko growled and threw a punch at him.

For the first time in days, something almost like a laugh pressed against my chest, but it faded when I saw the document case on his lap. “You really had the apartment arranged?” “Yes.” “And the lawyer?” “Yes.” “And the car?” “Elena, I am a Ferretti. I was born making exits people pretend not to notice.” I turned toward the window. “Why?” The teasing left his face. “Because I’ve watched you love the wrong man for too long.” I looked back at him. Nico kept his eyes on the road, his voice even. “At school, you thought I mocked you because I enjoyed it. Sometimes I did. Mostly I was angry that you kept giving De Luca the kind of loyalty he never knew what to do with.”

With a shaking voice, he blurted, “You can’t kill me. I know what I've done, but I’m willing to change. You can keep me as your rat against the Russians.” I kept my calm, despite the revelation. From the look on Nico’s face, the word Russians had mistakenly slipped out of his lips. At least now I knew he was working with the Russian Mafia, popularly known as the Bratva, and smuggling women and children. This was all part of that big fucking chain that had started twenty-four years ago. If I was right, I knew who Nico and the other rats had been working for. “A traitor’s always a fucking traitor, Nico. You would’ve said the same thing to that damned bratkis if this situation were to be revers

“What are you implying? That Raphael’s death was a lie?” Nico panicked for a second, but before he could say another word— CRACK. A sickening snap of bone filled the air. “AGHH!” Nico screamed like a pig being slaughtered, collapsing to the ground, his leg bent at an unnatural angle. Marcello had appeared behind me. He holstered his pistol, his voice ice cold. “It seems the Russo family not only sucks at business, but they also have no manners. Disrespecting my fiancée? Who gave you the balls?”