Rafa Narcos Novels & Stories

LUCA The call came in before I’d even had coffee the next morning. Rafael’s voice was tight. He only spoke like that when something had gone wrong in a way that would cost us. “Boss, we’ve got a problem in the streets.” I was still half in the dark of my study, one shoulder leaning against the wall, phone pressed to my ear. “What kind of problem?” “There was an overdose. It happened last night. Word’s getting out and around.”

He melted into shadow and followed the quiet lines of logistics he’d learned to read: service doors, camera blind spots, the rhythm of coordinated movement. He wasn’t going to anchor. He wasn’t going to run. He was going to break the capture before it ever closed around her. --- Back in the sanctuary, Nori stared at the address on the screen as if it might blink into something kinder. Rafael took the phone from Bea and powered it down. “You’re not going,” he said quietly. “Not today. Not ever.” Nori nodded, even as the ache behind her sternum whispered that quiet could be bought. “I know,” she said. “I just—”

Malik gave a single, curt nod, his eyes flicking to Lachlan before returning to the blueprints. "The joker is Rafe," Dan continued. "A Nahual from the favelas of Rio. Favored hitman for the Dos Santos shifter cartel, right up until he stole their entire digital ledger and leaked it to the federales just for the chaos of it. He’s been running from a kill order ever since." Rafe offered a two-finger salute, though his eyes were locked on Lachlan’s claws, which were subconsciously extending.

His throat bobbed softly, and from his expression, it burned but he liked it. “Rafael killed Rico,” Gio said, “The trafficker. That’s why I haven’t been able to buy enough girls for my brothel.” His accent rolled off his tongue in anger, but Aria tried to maintain her irritation. “Che figlio di puttana!”(Such son of a bitch) He cussed, as he slammed his cup on the table in anger. “Merda! He’s out of control,” Marcel puffed out smoke, “He’s blocking off the ports too, and you’re letting him breathe?”

Ruby is all ears with the news about her sister. "What about them?" She asked anxiously. " I've heard that Jane your niece was sold to the mafia and your nephew Rafa is in trouble with this people.he was trying to save her but she refuses , so Rafa run away from home and lives in the streets instead of home having trouble with his parents." Melanie revealed. " Where can we find him?" She asked of all the things she experience with Demi's family, Rafa was the only one who is kind and respectful of her.

He only knew one thing: Maya had crossed the line. And he would make sure she paid for it. Every last piece of her deceit would burn. --- He grabbed his phone, dialing a number he hadn’t used in years—one even Maya didn’t know existed. A voice answered after two rings. “…I was wondering when you’d call,” the man said, tone cold and amused. Rafael’s fingers tightened around the phone. “I need information. And leverage. On Maya Hartono.” There was a low chuckle. “Ah. That girl again. She’s been busy. Dangerous. You’re late to realize it.”

He muttered and went on his knees in front of him. "What are you sorry for?" Caleb asked. Rafa sniffed and took his left arm, holding him tenderly. "I'm sorry for hurting you, for shooting an arrow at you. I'm sorry for not protecting you and I'm especially sorry for what I am about to do," He took a deep shaky breath and forced a smile but Caleb wasn't smiling back, rather he stared at him suspiciously. "We have two choices..." Rafa began. "To let you die, and return to the Calms, or to Reject you." Caleb's eyes bulged at his words, and he tried to get back on his feet and run, but Rafa held him down easily. "I'm sorry... I am so sorry," He brought the wrist to his mouth and bit deeply into

Names that reappeared when they shouldn’t. A medical foundation was supposed to save people. Not rewrite them. ⸻ His eyes narrowed slightly. Then the memory returned—sharp, quiet, clean. The first time he’d heard her name. ⸻ FLASHBACK — BEFORE THE PARTY Rafael sat in the back of a black car, window tinted so dark the city lights became muted shadows. It was late. Not a “late-night social” late. A “men die at this hour” late. His right-hand man, Lucian, slid a tablet onto the seat beside him.

Why? They reached the far edge of the dock where another SUV waited, engine running, one of Luciano’s men waving them over frantically. But before they could reach it, a figure stepped into their path. Soaked suit. Bloodied arm. Rafael Costa. His smile was gone now. His eyes burned with cold, lethal fury. “You should have taken my offer,” he said quietly. Luciano shoved Aria behind him again, his gun raised. “And you should have stayed in whatever pit you crawled out of.”