Pulp Fiction This Is A Robbery Novels & Stories

" On your right side. Turn the lamp on. " Catalina found the switch and pressed it. As soon as she touched it, an alarm went off. The pakhan snatched the gun from her hands and with one hand pushed her on the bed with him. She collided with his naked hard chest and now the gun rested on her cleavage. " Rule number 1 . Never believe a Mafia. " He laughed loudly and footsteps echoed in the corridor. The door opened with several men in there and one of them switched on the lights at last.

If they act too rashly and demand the soldiers and associates in the mafia to come clean, this would only inadvertently alert the enemy. *author's little note - soldiers and associates are the lowest rank in the mafia hierarchy* A snarl flittered across his face, the pulse in his temple pounding. "I should have killed the bastard myself!" He then slammed the table hard when the worst images flickered across his mind—his tesoro and piccolo.

Robin was already shedding tears. One of the men suddenly cocked his gun and Mr. Robin kept mute. "Where is the money?" A deep voice from behind asked looking at them. "What money?" Mr. Robin returned with a question. He was actually confused seeing that they were asking him for what he didn't have. "I guess you wanna die right?" The robber threatened as a smirk followed it.. "We don't have any money at home ….. we… we don't …. We don't keep any … any money at home" Robin stuttered with his eyes tightly closed and his face to the ground..

-the robber said with a low tone and with his eyes motioning for Chronos to give him his back without resistance. Chronos, with an expression of disappointment on his face because of his first encounter with another human being like this, looked at the individual and quickly thought: this place is not as secure as I thought, maybe "poverty" brings crime. For a brief moment, Chronos stood motionless looking at the finger in the trigger then without any warning the robber moved closer to Chronos in order to take away his backpack from him. Chronos reacted grabbing the hand with the gun and raising it up, this made the robber shoot twice to the sky and gave enough time for Chronos to reach his

"I'm going to freeze her. Is there something wrong?" "You're insane! You're not going to do that. I'm going to call your Dad, right now!" The old woman quickly gets her phone but before she could dial the number... Bang! "Ahh!" the old woman screamed as her hand being shot. Her Bodyguard quickly pulled their guns but before they could take the shots... Bang! Bang! Five bodies fell in the floor as Bogart and Mando shot all the Bodyguards of old woman. The Priest was about to run when Bogart hit his back with the chair that made him unconscious.

I pant, a familiar sickness coming over me. Mason ushers me out of the garage before I can hear who ordered me dead, but I don't really care. I make it to the bedroom in time for a single, deafening gunshot to fire. I don't make it to the bed, though, kneeling beside it while I let myself cry for once. Maybe Felix is right. Maybe I've chosen dangerous men because it's what I'm used to. Seeing Dante hit that man in the face—I can still feel the sting of the hit on my cheek from Patrick. I hate comparing the two, and I hate the fact that it hurts when I think about my favorite bank robbers now.

I had never seen him or any of the men that had come with him before, but they had all the marks of a mafia. I watched his men drag mine, and Elio's around, make calls and take counts. I heard Bianca's panicked voice as I heard them bringing her and Sophia, who still seemed unconscious, out of the back rooms. They'd even found the men that had been in the basement. Soon, the entire party had been assembled, disarmed, and silent, and this man who was giving orders was just standing there, cradling Mia in his arms. His expression was calm and unbothered. It set me on edge. If he was just a businessman, the blood would have been enough to turn his stomach, but he stood in the slowly growing pud

Well, someone else got there first. I frowned. "What do you mean by 'someone else'?” "Italian mafia," Alex said in hushed tones with serious overtures. "They disposed of the robbers before we had any chance at all. They're all dead.” My hand tightened over the phone. Italian mafia? What did they have to do with it? This wasn't their familiar turf. "That doesn't make any sense," I muttered to myself, not really to Alex. "Why would Rocco's crew be involved in a random shop robbery?”

His hair, dyed blood-red, glowed under the night lights. The other back door opened, and another man emerged. Francesco’s eyes followed the pair of spotless white sneakers stepping onto the ground. His breath caught for a split second. His mind processed what he was seeing. A mirror image. His stomach twisted. The same face. The same posture. The same calculating menace in their presence. The Russo brothers. Shit. The Russo family — One of New York’s most ruthless Mafia clans, infamous for high-profile assassinations — had disappeared years ago. Now, they were standing right in front of him.

I raised a hand and Seliora reined in beside me instantly, her eyes narrowing in the same direction. “Trouble,” I muttered. We dismounted without a word, boots hitting stone in unison. The noise came from a stall just beyond the square, where the torchlight thinned. I moved first, Seliora matching my pace, her steps silent as a shadow. A robbery was in progress but the robber was clumsy—young, desperate, the kind that thought darkness made him invisible. He was halfway through prying open a crate when I caught his arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him against the wall. He cried out, dropping the knife he’d been holding.