Santino Sonny Corleone Novels & Stories

Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ Domenico Costello had three sons—Luciano, Mario, and Vito. In our world, the family order means everything. Luciano, being the eldest, naturally became the Don, taking the weight of the family legacy on his shoulders. Mario, his second-in-command, the Underboss, was his trusted shadow. My father, Vito? He was the muscle. The enforcer. The one sent when words failed and blood needed spilling. He thrived in that chaos.

Don Antonio Bonasera was born in Venice, Italy. He worked for one of the most powerful Italian families; the Corleone’s. He had been their hitman, bodyguard and driver sworn to protect them in loyalty to his boss. He had a look that was primordial, striking and intimidating in his appearance: tall and broad shouldered, avuncular with a wide nose, blood-red eyes and a rough skin. He resembled the mugshots of killers in cold blood on crime TV documentaries. If one examined closely, the blood of his enemies were crusted deep in his fingernails.

“The Don's wife?” Cecilia beside me asked in a feigned innocent tone. “Leo, didn't you say that once your father stepped down, he would pass the title of Don to you? Leo's expression froze for a moment, then he looked at me indifferently. “My father has only one son, and no one else is qualified to inherit the title of Don besides me.” “Antonio, have you gone senile in the five years I’ve been away? Everyone in New York knows I am the one true heir to the Corleone bloodline.”

It's Santino. "Whose head are you serving me?" He asks. Santino may be in his late fifties, but he looks almost as young as his sons. He has thick black hair, black eyes, and a muscular build. Unlike some families who have their enforcers or others who do the killing, Santino doesn't mind getting his hands dirty. "Trystan discovered that Christov Kondrati has a daughter and granddaughter," Deonte says. Santino smiles and rubs his hands together.

I called over both Max and Damian. “Some more information just came in,” Vincent said, swiping through images on his tablet. “DeLuca has a son, Santino. He’s in the tenth grade. According to Demetrius, he’s not bright, not tough, and a loner. He’s been kicked out of three schools already and spends most of his time playing video games. DeLuca’s tried pulling him into Camorra Business, but the kid isn’t interested.” “I wish any of us had been given an option,” Damian muttered.

An Enforcer stepped onto the stage and read the verdict: "Marco Antonio. Betrayal of allies, violation of Omertà. Immediate excommunication and execution of the entire bloodline!" Hearing "execution of the entire bloodline," Marco's men dropped to their knees in terror. Marco's face turned as white as paper, his whole body shaking. Just then, the Rolls-Royce door opened. A man in a black trench coat stepped out. He had amber eyes like mine. My brother, the Don of the Corleone family—Vito. The moment he appeared, every mobster present dropped to one knee. Vito walked straight to me. Looking at my bloodied face and broken nails, those hands that had taken countless lives were actually tremblin

“Those weren’t rumors. They are. My father is Manfred Russo, he’s the Godfather of Sicily and the whole of Italy. But when it comes right down to it, he runs most of the country, it’s just done behind the scenes. Governments and by extension law enforcement are very corrupt. He gives them a little on the side and they turn a blind eye. Ashton’s family is in Colombia, his padre is Salvatore Rossini.” “Cartel,” he said before I could say it myself. “I know the name, Salvatore Rossini. Ironically enough one of the papers I wrote as an undergrad was on the drug trade in South America. Salvatore Rossini was one of the people I highlighted in that paper. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connectio

I asked in a tone that said I don't give second chances. "Yes, Mr. Gravano." "First question, why do you want to sell out your boss?" "Lorenzo has my two sons, and I want them back," Carter said, looking at me, and I could tell there was something more to the story. "Why does he have your sons?" "My wife and I used to work for him, but someone stole drugs and made it look like we..." "Wait, your son's name isn't, by any chance, Roberto Porzio?" I asked when I heard him talk about what happened.

said Santiago. Salvatore was silent. His phone rang. It was for the meeting he has to be in. Salvatore looked at the phone and took the call. "You see it over Valentino," said Salvatore and ended the call and kept the phone away. Santiago looked at him. "From the guy who walked out on the first session to attend a gang issue, I must say I am surprised you are listening even now," said Santiago. "Aryan stresses less now. You are the reason for that. I trust you. Caroline says you are good at helping him and me," said Salvatore.

Marcello I shifted in my chair as Nonnetta asked Solane the question, knowing that she would be so pissed if she knew who Solane really is. I was about to change the discussion to another topic when Solane lips parted slightly to answer “I'm…” Solane's voice trailed but then Tonia interrupted her. “I'm sure you know her, Grandma. She's Solane, the daughter of the late Don Gambino,” Tonia said, a smug lit in her voice.