Oath Of Omerta Novels & Stories

Not surprising, since he'd practically taught them all there was to know about the family business. After the basic rules were explained, they'd gone straight into the initiation ceremony, which wasn't as dramatic as the movies made it out to be. But there was some finger pricking by Konstantin, the officiating member, and blood droplets being spilt on cards bearing the images of saints, which were later set on fire while Andrei, Aleksei, and Mikhail took their vow of the omertà— "Boss?" Igor touched his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. "We should go in." "Lead the way," Andrei nodded and followed his men inside the smoky shop.

On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, the two men who cherish me above all else are absent. One is Vittorio Luciano, the only son of the Luciano family from the east, while the other is Carlos Gambino, the heir to the Gambino family from the south. This is a matter that could easily be settled with a few words, yet they try to think up all sorts of excuses to brush me off. "Anna, a gunfight has broken out at the port to the north, so I really can't step away." "I have to hold a family meeting with the elders. I can't skip it." However, the two men have barely hung up on me when I see them appear beside my adopted younger sister, Liliana Siciliano, at her coming-of-age ceremony. The

"And what's that?" ‎She suddenly placed a hand on her chest and shook her head slowly. "Oh, I cannot say. It's been ruled out as an Omerta, as I've heard. And you know, the walls have ears. I do NOT want to get in trouble, my life's perfect and simple as it is. I'm too old for a 'new' kind of adventure." She added sarcastically. ‎ ‎Omerta: a codename for 'silence' or not to tattletale an organization's secretive works.

I didn’t miss the way his fingers were shaking and his knees were pounding, the sweat was flowing down his forehead and slowly slipping down his cheeks. I enjoy his fear, feeding on him like a drug addict, finally getting a dose. Without hesitation, I directed the sharpest knife directly through his left hand. His screams instantly filled the atmosphere, fueling my appetite. My demon was hungry, very hungry , long ago I did not feel like that, liberated , feeling myself again. He didn’t deserve the tattoo he wore for this family, most men’s emis and I had it , the tattoo of the Italian mafia, It meant loyalty and trust. After this fact, it no longer belonged to us.

Keep the Omega’s scent from rousing anything that might answer. My throat tightens with anger honed to utility. “This isn’t dissent,” I say. “This is treason.” “Call it what you like,” Dever grinds out. “We call it survival.” The man with the cask fumbles with the lid and I throw my second knife. It bites into the wood, not his hand, and the jolt knocks the cask sideways so it rolls instead of spills. He swears, but the smell sharpens the air anyway.

Salvatore trembled violently, his hand dropping from Carmela’s. The diamond wedding ring, embossed with the Benedetto family crest, vibrated and rolled off onto the marble floor. His face ashen, he rushed down from the altar and seized the collar of Marco's black formal suit. "Is this true? Or are you in league with that bitch to betray the family!" Marco had anticipated this accusation. He had wanted to report Giuseppe's death to the Don sooner. But Carmela had threatened him, invoking the family’s code of omertà, the law of silence.

I wanted to reach over and hold his hand, but instead, I sat silently waiting for him to tell me what happened after that. "He forced me to join the gang and get the tattoo on my neck to symbolize where I came from and who I am. I was trained day and night so that I will be able to take out our enemies." Stefano pauses to look at me. "I was fifteen when I got my first mission—it was to execute my mother. The only person who has ever been there for me. The only one who was kind and showed me mercy, he wanted me to take her life."

Too willing to love a man who never promised her anything but power in exchange for obedience. And she’d fallen in love anyway. That was her first sin. The second? Stealing from him. Whispers of betrayal. A half-million in laundered funds. And a deal with the Cataldi cartel that ended in bullets. Dante pulled the trigger himself. He remembered her last words. “I never meant to betray you.” He hadn’t answered. Because it didn’t matter. Intentions were for children and priests. Not kings made of iron. Present – Moretti Estate Dante moved through the halls like a storm waiting for a target.

He even wears all black like us, you would swear that he was also mafia. “Is the omertà is more important than having your brother’s murderers incarcerated?” he asks, but I ignore him again and fixate my eyes on the coffin in front of me. True justice for me would be bringing my brother back to life, nothing else. “What was that, Sir?” I hear the young female cop next to him ask. She must be his trainee because I have never seen her before. “They will never talk to us, no matter who dies. It’s their stupid code,” Detective Solomon explains. I can hear the frustration in his voice.

All carried the weight of their districts in the set of their shoulders. They brought me forward. Don Bertaleo raised his eyes and studied me for a long moment, as though weighing my soul on invisible scales. Then the ritual began. One of the elders pricked my trigger finger with a sterilized needle. A drop of blood fell onto a small image of the Madonna. They set the paper alight in an ashtray and passed the burning image from hand to hand while I repeated the oath after Don Bertaleo. “I swear on my honor to be faithful to Cosa Nostra. If I betray, may my flesh burn like this saint.”