Ruska Roma Novels & Stories

“You didn’t know?” Rosealba shook her head slowly. “I didn’t know Alactor Merikh Drystan was the mafia lord of Rome… of Italy before now. I had only found out some months back, but I still didn't know he was this powerful.” “That name?” Emilia leaned in, whispering quickly. “It’s not a name people say casually, Rosa. Most people would rather die than cross it.” “And yet I married him,” Rosealba said softly, almost to herself.

The penthouse apartment echoed with the sound of shattering glass and Nikolai's furious roars. SAINT PETERSBURG, RUSSIA(THE BRATVA'S EMPIRE) After the success of the engagement party between Mikhail Morozov and Donatella De Luca, the La Mano Rojas sent a message to the Bratva's empire, causing chaos within the empire.

Roma continued. Ramina looked back at her mother, taken aback by her sudden remark. "What do you mean, mom?" she asks. Roma smiled and shook her head. "Nothing . . . I just missed all of you." Ramina looked at her eyes. "Don't you . . . miss me?" she asks, hopeful.

"Friends of yours?" "I'd like you to meet Wen and his brother Eldion. They're hitching a ride with me," said Casser. They exchanged pleasantries. "Nice to meet both of you," said Roma. Then, she went to a corner and took out a key from a bunch. "That will be six coins with breakfast, nine if you're going to have dinner here as well. I assume you're all staying in one big room?" Roma asked. "Yes. We'll take it," said Casser and gestured at Wen.

The blanket unraveled in his hands, and bliss enveloped her the moment he draped the soft, thick wool around her shoulders. “Am I going to stay here?” She looked around what seemed to be one dark, dingy warehouse. “You could turn down the AC a little bit, you know.” “AC?” he repeated with a low chuckle. “This is all compliments of the lovely evening weather.” “Weather? Where the hell…” Alexei slowly sat on his heels and placed his broad hands on her shoulders. He smiled at her like Christmas had come early. “Welcome to Moscow, Miss Daniella De Luca. The Russian mafia is looking forward to working with you.”

He was grinding his molars with such force that even Luca could hear. As soon as they were out of the house. Rasmus was all up on Luca. Both of them had the same height. Luca didn't back down even the slightest as he matched the gaze of his Alpha. "What the f*ck were you doing there?" He growled at his face. Luca has barely seen Rasmus losing his calm and when he does, it was always a big f*cking deal. "Just healthy flirting," Luca said plainly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Did Mick get his wolf?” “It’s that one right there,” I pointed to the black wolf as it darted after Cortina. “His name is Rome.” “Rome,” Billy nodded, studying the creature. “He got strapped with an Italian human. Funny shit.” He watched Rome catch up with Ivar and tackle him to the ground. “He’s massive. Looks bigger than you.” Ivar scoffed in my head. “Bull shit.” “He’s not,” I muttered. “Looks like he might be.”

Rosa and Luca The rain seeped through the cracked roof of the apartment, dripping into a rusted pot on the floor. Rosa did not bother to move it. She sat on the edge of the narrow bed, pulling on her boots with stiff fingers while Luca stood near the window, watching the street below. His coat was threadbare, his shoulders hunched against the cold. “This place will rot us alive,” Luca muttered. Rosa tied the laces hard. “Then we go where the money is.” He turned. “You really think that girl will help us?” “She owes us,” Rosa snapped. “If she’s living in a palace while we count bread slices, then yes—she will help us.”

Roman went to the store room and brought out a broom, mop and Packer along with dusters. He locked the main door, kitchen and the doors to their room. "What the fuck are you doing?" Ruslan asked, confused. "I am looking where I know you all can run to." Roman said firmly. "Are you serious right now? Do you know that I am a Don?" Ruslan asked angrily. "Don to be. You are not yet a don and even if you are a don, if you mess up my house, you will clean it up." He said as he sat on the couch.

“Ricci’s moving fast after what happened to his port. I saw his lapdog in Padua, sweating bullets. Those Russians you spotted, who the hell are they, Nico? Talk.” He shoved a folder at me, eyes sharp. “Roma, Kolya, Dima. The Executioner’s top dogs. Roma, scarface, is a fucking tank, loves smashing skulls up close. Kolya, gold chain, tortures for kicks, breaks men like twigs to get answers. Dima, buzzcut, is the brains, a strategist who’ll map your death before breakfast.” I flipped through the folder, photos, kill counts, rap sheets that’d make Satan blush. Roma’s scarred mug, Kolya’s smug grin, Dima’s ice-cold stare. I leaned back, tossing the folder on the table.