Omertà Novels & Stories

She picked at her food for a bit and then she said, “I’d appreciate it if you would start talking soon. I really don’t have the time for all of this.” put down my fork, took a sip of my coffee and asked her, “Do you know what omertà means?” She sighed, like it angered her that I would question her knowledge of the mob. “Of course I know what it means,” she said. “I’ve lived in New York my entire life; I grew up in the Bronx, probably not far from you.

I added glad to change the subject. "It looks like we are heading to the city of Triora." Madame Lux smiled. "Tiora?" I asked. "The Salem of Italy." she sighed as Lucinda looked up from her food. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" She asked as we both watched Madame Lux closely. "None of this is a good thing." Madame Lux somberly responded. "Is Carmen hiding there?" I asked

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In fact, I really thought about it. When the small boat stops at the port and I, the stranger, Mr. Tastaren and two wolves get out, I stand still for a moment, alert to the dozens and hundreds of people there. Women, men, children and animals everywhere. There is noise, music, conversation, and strong smells that mix. —Is this Pontis Maari? — I ask my friend, trying to hide my curiosity with a bored expression. - Oh no. This is Porto D'Alangees — he says. — Pontis Maari is further south. You'll recognize it when it arrives. They have dark stone walls high as the sky.

"Oriaga Niel. When are you going to stop?" ***

And even worse, she watched as both Christian and the crowd paid close attention to every word. Lily caught fragments she couldn’t understand all too well, until one word punched through clear as day— “Omertà.” Her chest tightened. She’d heard that before. And it was a word she couldn’t dare forget. Before she could process it, the speaker’s voice rose with finality, announcing Christian’s name. “Christian Bellini, Don of the North Block. Descendant of late Italian Boss Alessandro Bellini.” In one motion, dozens of hands reached inside their jackets. Guns glinted under the chandeliers. The room thundered as everyone raised their weapons to the air.

"Is it just me, or did that guy earlier... wasn’t he going in our direction?" The driver kept his eyes on the road. "Definitely not," he said firmly. "Plus, the name he was calling was different. It had nothing to do with us." Anne, the woman in the front seat, nodded slowly. "Right. This is Vespera's first visit to City F, after all."

The ones lined around and up his arms were normal. But the ones the crawled up to his back, shoulders and neck didn’t look ordinary. On the side of his back, crossing to his shoulder and a certain path that crawled up to his neck looked like a chained bird that got loose. That loose chain was the crawling one on his neck. “What does this tattoo mean?” I asked, hoping he’d answer me. Martil sighed, puffing smoke into the room. “It’s an Omertà.” “What’s that?” The name itself sounded strange.

Ksamil shimmered like a hidden paradise in late April 2026. The Albanian Riviera’s southern jewel earned its nickname as the “Maldives of Europe” with its powdery white sand beaches, impossibly turquoise waters, and tiny emerald islands just offshore. Warm sunlight sparkled across the gentle waves, while the air carried the clean, briny scent of the Ionian Sea mixed with pine from the nearby hills and the faint sweetness of grilled seafood from beachside tavernas.

I can feel heaviness in my voice. I don’t know if he feels bad for me or what, but he drops the topic. Giving me a piece of quiet, to compose myself back. “Ok, ok let’s just go already, we are late for dinner!” I follow him out quietly “Don’t worry about earlier! Ok.” He says while looking at me. He is different than the others that I have met till now, namely the Agosti brothers “So, what’s your name?” “O-Omerta, Omerta Romano”