Pulp Fiction This Is A Robbery Novels & Stories

" I drove home feeling sick to my stomach. I opened all the windows and I even tried to smell a car freshener to get the smell out of my nose. I stopped at a robot and I closed my eyes taking in greedy breaths. "Give me all your fucking money!" I turned my head to the side to see a man with a mask covering half his face, holding what I was assuming was a gun in a paper bag. I was stunned. It was the first time someone tried to rob me. I got out of my car and the man looked me up and down. I grabbed the paper bag out of his hand and pulled his mask down.

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. "Hello? Eve? What happened?" She continued speaking, but I couldn't hear anything anymore. My phone slipped from my hand and hit the ground with a sharp crack. Slowly, I turned around and looked at the small body lying there. That blue hoodie was exactly the same one my son, Leo Spencer, had. Could it really be him? Step by step, I walked over and lifted the cloth covering the child's face. It was a mangled, bloodied mess. His features were unrecognizable.

Alex brought out his pocket knife from behind his shirt as he quickened his footsteps, approaching the second man from behind and piercing through the back of his leg and the side of his neck in swift movements. As the second man slowly fell to the ground holding his neck that was bleeding profusely, the first man slowly backed away. “Get away from me”. He cried searching around for a weapon to protect himself but Alex had attacked quicker than he could take his next breath. He grabbed the first man by his hair as he bashed his head into the glass window of a nearby car. He carried the two unconscious men and placed them into the driver and passenger seat in front, fastening the seat belt ar

Cleo’s POV The Paris morning was calm, a soft light spilling into the room, bathing everything in a warm glow that felt almost surreal after the stormy night. I stood at the window, trying to gather my thoughts, but they kept drifting back to Russo and the unexpected vulnerability I had seen in him. Last night, I’d seen a side of him that he kept hidden from the world, a side that reminded me he wasn’t just the ruthless mafia boss who had trapped me in this twisted marriage. He was also a man haunted by his past, much like me.

He was wrong. We were monsters. The whole lot of us in the mafia. The viciousness of our world had tarnished any trace of innocence we had in us, and the little that might've remained was completely wiped out by us being forced to carry out the very evil that defined our world. My finger wavered before the trigger of the glock I held to Mercutio's head, my jaw clenched tightly in anger. 'Gnev ubivaet vsyo luchshee v tebe,' my late mam's voice flitted through my mind. 'Anger doesn't burn the least in you. It burns the best.' I removed the pistol from Mercutio's forehead and tucked it into its holster. His frightened eyes watched my every movement raptly, skittering when I started to slowly ci

, He sighed slowly and added, “if you return the cargo, I can let go of this matter, otherwise…” . Not waiting for him to finish, Vyom seized his arm, gave him a good kick in the leg, and stabbed the broken bottle into his chest. It happened so quickly before Jonathan’s bodyguards could even take out their weapons from their pocket. Vyom had already dragged him away, gesturing at his bodyguards to look back. . They stood still, finding they were surrounded. After kicking him several feet away, Vyom took a hanky to wipe the blood from his hands. Then he informed one of his bodyguards. “Call the police….an armed robber broke into the house. He may be suspected of attempted murder!”

I land in my own goddamn puke. "Nice watch you’ve got there," he repeats, the same words from the bar. Only now, there’s no smirk. And then—I get it. I’m getting robbed. Fuck. The other guy—whose face I can’t see—laughs. "He looks loaded, boss." Mustache Guy nods. "Yes. Unfortunately, he disobeyed me." "What the fuck are you talking about?" I try to get up, but my head pounds like a jackhammer. "If you just shut up—"

“You know what this slut told me—?!” “It doesn’t matter. Fuck off.” “She said she didn’t have any guy in her life!” Dante visibly tensed and let go of Stefan. He stared blankly at Chiara and turned back to Stefan, suddenly punching him. Stefan staggered back and when he raised his head again, there was something clouding the madness once in his eyes—it was fear, and blood. “Get out. Now.” Stefan scoffed and quickly scurried out of the restaurant, s tremble in every step he took.

Inside, the air was cold, damp, and thick with the metallic tang of blood. The scene that greeted me was not unfamiliar. Two men, their faces swollen and bruised beyond recognition, were shackled to a support beam, their bodies slumped. The delivery men. The ones audacious enough to smuggle firearms and gold bars from my Treasury. My men, burly figures cloaked in shadows, stood nearby, their expressions grim, their knuckles still raw. Clearly, they had taken pleasure in their work.

I turned toward the screen, my breath caught in my chest, heart hammering so hard I could barely hear the rest. Tommy. Lola. Their faces flashed in my mind as clearly as if they were standing in front of me. Tommy was leaning on my bar, smirking like he owned the place. Lola’s laughter filled the air as she teased me about working too hard. The two of them walked out into the night together. That had been two months ago. Now they were gone. My throat closed as I grabbed the counter for balance. Robbery. That was what the police were saying. But who robs two people in a warehouse and leaves them dead? I shook my head.