Peter Greene Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

Peter's pov I'm Peter Ace Carnell, a 16-year-old. I can say that I'm not that good at school, but I'm good at selling things, sports, boxing and, for my luck, I'm good at programming especially hacking. My life isn't easy. I live with my mother. I work in the Blackstone mafia as a stealer, so I steal cars, jewelry, money... Sometimes I distribute drugs and even sell them. Anyway, I was punished by the men in the mafia several times but not as harshly as the other kids working here. Once one of the leaders got really angry with me and hit me with the belt. I'm really scared of belts to the point that I don't wear one.

… Two days after he ended up having sex with someone for the first time, Peter drove out to the suburbs to race and relax with his childhood friends. Peter dashed down from the race car, his peach eyes narrowed slightly, and said to Jack: "Your level is still very low compared to mine." Jack - A talented general manager but always despised by a poor painter like Peter: “…Shit!” He went to his friends' table and sat down, comfortably resting his feet on the table, took a beer bottle, and took a sip. Action exudes liberal, carefree life. Moreover, Peter wears a very sexy-looking black shirt, the two buttons on the chest are open, revealing a sexy collarbone. People who don't know for sure will

I asked unsure if I heard him right. “Black, no cream.” I accepted the card and opened the car, the soft warm breeze washed over the cold air from the car air conditioner. The coffee shop looked sophisticated as the door parted open, I stepped inside and took in the interior, it was dark and had too many complex designs if you asked me. I walked up to the counter where a barista was waiting to attend to me with a warm smile. “You’re here for Mr. Greene’s coffee.” The mans name tag read Peter, he was blonde with bright blue eyes and clean shaved face.

one of the thugs sneered. "Leave her alone, and I am still going to f*cking hurt you." My eyes went wide at Peter's dark, threatening tone. I had known Peter for an entire year, and this was the very first time I had ever heard such raw, lethal danger in his voice. The men lunged at him all at once. To my absolute shock, Peter fought them off with ruthless efficiency, throwing brutal punches and dodging blows like he was incredibly used to street fights. Right now, he didn't look like a gentle doctor; he looked exactly like a man who worked directly for a Mafia family.

When they had made mention of the most gruesome mafia boss ever been on their toes, and here they thought he had patience. But hell damn no! Nathan Greene was as hot-tempered as any shit mafia boss would be. He was a perfect replica of Lamarck’s theory of use and disuse, only that his theory was more brutal and involved bloodshed. He chortled seeing that his commands were extremely carried out perfectly. “Look at the shit you’ve done to him!” Ray yelled as he fisted his hands into a tight ball. He couldn’t recognize the boy that was captured a week ago.

“You fool. You only know how to play around with women. Sooner or later, you'll die in a woman’s hands.” John glared at Huey and said, “I just got the news that Peter Weekly has evidence that we were involved in the tragedy at Green Hills Orphanage back then.” “Peter Weekly?” Huey was confused. Clearly, he had never heard of this name. John looked at his son in disappointment. “Six Fingers! He's the boss of Exquisite Antiques. Back then, he was called Peter Weekly and was Arthur Quaid’s driver. It's said that he has a recording of me asking the Quaids to burn down Green Hills Orphanage!”