Noir Giabella Novels & Stories

Rain fell like the sky was trying to wash away regrets. A black sedan glided through the darkness, its engine murmuring softly as it navigated the narrow coastal road toward Terracelli’s abandoned vineyard — a makeshift graveyard for political alliances. The headlights swept over shattered wine barrels, rusted gates, and shadows that seemed almost alive. Inside the car, Alessia sat tense, her fingers gripping the seat’s edge. Nikolai shot her a glance from the corner of his eye. Dressed in all-black tactical gear prepared by Rossi, she had a gun holstered at her thigh.

The heat had broken with the sun, but the ground still radiated warmth through the soles of Gianni's boots, and somewhere out past the perimeter fence a dingo called once, twice, then went quiet, as if even the wildlife knew better than to linger here tonight. Gianni crouched behind a dune, binoculars pressed to his eyes, scanning every angle like he was reading a map only he could see. Three years of this, three years since Marcus had taken Elena, since the Society had become more than a rumor whispered in safehouses, and it had all come down to one stretch of corrugated steel and razor wire in the middle of nowhere. "There's a blind spot near the water tower," he said low, voice rough from

He still stood in front of me ready to protect me if needed and the action had my heart swelling with some kind of emotion I couldn't put my finger on. "I've always wanted to do that. But more than ten years passed and now this book surfaces. Someone's playing at something and I want to know what it is. What does this person gain by opening our old wounds and taking down influential members of the Italian mafia? I can understand why there's been a hit out on the Gibsons. No one from the mafia would want that book to get decoded. So that eliminates them," Gunnar mused with a pensive expression masking his rugged features.

Depends on how large the tattoo is. “I, together with Red and Josaiah, stay in front. Xy and Snow will be behind us beside Ace. Marco, hit the trees,” Gabriella ordered. Marco immediately hopped to the trees silently, and then he was out of our sight. We started moving slowly, with Xy marking our way back and scanning the ground for any chemical trace or leads. The moon was shining brightly and the trees were not even rustling, there was no wind or sound of the animals. The north forest was awfully silent today, but it was bright enough for us to see the surroundings.

Gianni had slipped past the perimeter with the stealth of a phantom, his focus unyielding. Nirvana had to be dead. Rayne believed it. Everyone believed it. But something gnawed at him…a nagging suspicion. Then came the photograph..the one with the stretcher, the medics, the airstrip. His instincts told him there was more to the story. He’d followed the trail here. Geneva. Darius Voltaire’s estate. The greenhouse loomed ahead, its glass panels misted with condensation, lush greenery shadowed within. Gianni scanned the area, then slipped inside, his boots silent against the tiled floor. Tropical plants rose around him, casting a humid, thick scent.

said High Fay Ellya. Meanwhile, at 3:35 local time, Giornie departed from the ground and took the direction of the Shadow Elemental’s former compound near Sofi, in Morocco, where their foes weren’t looking for them at that moment and where they could set up a trap without leading them to their current compounds. Coralis returned the bind and sword she used to Whazk before reaching out to Sonylla. “We’re on our way to Morocco to drop a prisoner and for a brief meeting. We’ll take a fixed portal from Spain when we’re done.”

“We finally have news on Giulia Rinaldi.” Ilaria stiffens, her knuckles whitening. The name alone is enough to rip old wounds wide open. Giulia—the mother of Giovanni Gambino’s bastard son. Giovanni, who broke Ilaria, who nearly destroyed Antonio, who cost me Sasha. Giovanni, who Ilaria herself ended in blood and fire. “Did they find the boy?” she asks quickly. “Not him,” I answer. “Giulia.” “Where?” Antonio demands. “New Orleans.” His brows knit. “New Orleans is Irish ground. What the hell was she doing there?”

"Mostly at night." "Why?" Ann asked. Lydia nodded ahead and Ann turned. Her breath taken away by how beautiful it was. It was like something found at an art gallery; purple and gold and red fading into each other to create the most incredible sunset she'd ever seen. "Somewhere special..."

She raised her weapon and fired. The chandelier above Donatello shattered, raining crystal shards like starlight. He flinched, snarling, retreating deeper into his fortress. Massimo glanced at her. “After you.” Together, they ascended the marble steps, one purpose, one war, one end in sight Back in Vibo Valentia on the outskirts of the De Marco Compound, the hum of crickets faded beneath the low rumble of approaching tires on gravel. Camouflaged against the underbrush, Gianna and Lorenzo lay prone, eyes locked on the compound nestled behind rows of rusted fencing and floodlit watchtowers. The moon hung low, casting a silver sheen across the roofs of warehouses like a silent witness.

As he said so, all the eyes in the City Center turned towards me, which I just calmly looked at them, to me their exchange of words right now were similar to how a Mafia would engage in the start of war, trying to be civilised and weighing their morality and to justified their reason for everything that they have and wanted to do. “{Greeting Esteemed Ones~…Alessia Di Gianna, of Gianna Family of the Northern Alemia, Hailed from the Mountain territory Next to the Northern Shark Region..I am Pleased to meet your Acquaintance..}”. (Alessia Di Gianna)