Novel & Cerita Russian Mob Books

Alessia slid into the plush leather seat, her heart racing. As the car pulled away from the curb, Alessia's mind whirled with conflicting thoughts. What am I doing? she wondered, her fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of her dress. This isn't just some wealthy businessman. This is the Bratva. The Russian mafia. The realization sent a chill down her spine. She'd heard whispers about the Bratva's activities in the city - extortion, drug dealing, even human trafficking. And now she was willingly walking into their world.

Redoing a summary of my life I realize that there is no happier moment than this one, meeting Amy again was like having back a little piece of me that had been ripped off. My desire was to stay there glued to her the whole time but my duty called me, I reluctantly moved away from her and spent the whole morning trapped in the office with Aníbal and two of my security guards. ___"" Do you really think it will work? ___" I'm sure anibal was 15 years of legacy, every mobster around italy and the world knows and fears el diablo, they won't deny me support so easily, people from the south will support us you bet book a dinner with di Paolo

Someone is here, in my bedroom. "Whoever you are, you better show yourself." I commanded dryly. Silence. Who is this person? And why haven't they tried to kill me yet? What kind of person breaks into a mob boss' room and simply hides? I take the safety off and cock the barrel of the gun. Christ, I really hope I wouldn't have to use this thing. "You got three seconds before I unload the entire barrel inside you," I fibbed; I can never kill someone, "One! Two...."

And half the men in the restaurant, he realized as he glanced darkly around him. His eyes stopped on a familiar figure. Vladimir Sitnikov. The man owned this city's underworld. The parts Khalid didn't own, anyway. While the majority of Khalid's business interests were legitimate, Sitnikov tended toward the opposite. The majority of the cruel Russian mob bosses business was dirty, with only a few legitimate enterprises to launder money through.

Two stocky men chatted in Russian and Max eavesdropped. “I want my merchandise.” “You’ll get it.” “Tell Alexei if I don’t get it tonight, I’ll be mailing pieces of him to his pretty wife.” The Russian mob operated openly in South Africa; it had been that way for over two decades. Hearing them loudly going about their business demonstrated the Wild West mentality that was the embodiment of Johannesburg.

“Talk to me. Really talk to me. What aren’t you telling me?” For a long moment, he didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, his shoulders visibly tense. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “There’s a man,” he began, each word carrying the weight of something deeply buried. “A Russian mobster. He’s not like the other ones we’ve dealt with. He’s calculated. Patient. Years ago, there was… an issue. A shipment that went south, a deal that was never resolved. He lost money, pride, and now he’s out for blood.” My breath hitched. “And he’s coming for you?”

“You’ve grown into quite the remarkable woman. And Matteo Bellini… still playing the knight despite the chains. How predictable.” Matteo stepped forward, positioning himself as a shield. “Who the fuck are you?” The Architect smiled faintly. “The man who set the board twenty-four years ago. Marco Russo’s debts were never just gambling losses. They were investments. In you, Alexandria. Your ambition. Your fire. I needed someone strong enough to survive this world. Someone who could stand beside a man like Matteo and change the balance of power in Lisbon.” My stomach twisted. “You planned all of this? The club? The wrong door? My father’s debt?”

“It seems you haven’t been completely honest with us Mr. Jerome.” Russell stared at the man. “What’s the problem Rob?” “You didn’t tell us the men we snatched the girl from today were Russian mob.” Rob growled. Russell shrugged. “So what?” Rob raised an eyebrow. “So what? Those guys are bat shit crazy. One of my boys stayed behind at the shop this afternoon and saw not only Bratva but Ukrainians coming and going all afternoon.” “Is that a problem for you?” Russell asked as if he were bored.

"Robyn and I finally found out that they've been doing business with the Russian Cartels, not the Markov mob boss. We're talking distribution not only drugs but also humans, they're waist-deep in the business. And get this, we have everything in writing. We think they're keeping it in case they get caught so they can pin it on you." I was fuming already, but I let Zal continue. "They're with Komarov, the one cartel who thrives as loan sharks, underground gambling, and cage fights." Zal paused, waiting if I have questions for him. But still, I keep quiet, urging him to tell me more. "Okay, so this is what I'm suggesting..."

She made eyes at Tyrone who gave a merry snort of laughter. “Do you know who Edik Volkov is? Sacha Volkov? Lenin Volkov?” The man paled visibly, “yeah, I mean everyone does. Russian mafia. I knew a guy who borrowed money from them and he was found splattered against the walls of his apartment.” She sniggered at the comment. It was something her uncle would have done. Never proven of course. Just rumours in the underworld and she knew better to ask if it was true but she suspected it was. He liked to play with exploding bullets.