Syndicate Synonym Novels & Stories

Then looked at Sharon, who looked as if she had seen another person in her son. “Miss. Stone, we will….” Blake began. “Sharon, please. We will be under you, sir, so just call me Sharon.” Sharon interrupted Blake. “Sharon, we will combine the Syrum Syndicate and Capital as one branch network. My only rule is to get out of the drug and arms business. Actually, I want the businesses to protect the businesses under you and contribute to the community you are protecting.” Sharon nodded in approval and smiled at Chive, her partner in this business endeavor. “I will be at your guidance.”

The syndicate, as it appeared, worked like a kind of global conglomerate, making investments in secret projects and acquisitions. I documented these observations in a secure notebook. "The network is large. They work with shadowy characters and foreign investors. They can shift markets and even policy. I need to know more if I am to make an informed choice." I then arranged to meet an old business associate, Linda, who had spent time working internationally in finance prior to her retirement. "Linda, I need to ask you something. Do you happen to know about a finance syndicate that provides stakes for inside information?" I asked when meeting her at an isolated coffee house.

Lily’s phone clattered onto the table like it had burned her palm. The speakerphone stayed on while Elena’s voice kept spilling out, frantic and clipped. “...security cam caught him twice. Same guy, same knife flash at the platform edge and that key? I cross-referenced the engraving. Syndicate isn’t some corporate euphemism, Jen. It’s a network. Trafficking, blackmail, and high-end kink rings that don’t ask for safewords. David Blackwood’s name frequently appears in encrypted communications. He’s looking for a woman matching your description. Says she’s ‘his property.’”

the Veins. Behind him, I saw the Titan-Class Drill—the one I thought I had destroyed at the gate. The Syndicate had rebuilt it, and it was now positioned directly over the "Heart-Plug" of the mountain. "You're working with the Syndicate again?" I spat, pushing against his blade. "They are tools, Elena. Just as these 'wolfless' rats are yours. They want the Silver; I want the Silence. It is a productive partnership." "Not if I kill the partner," I said.

“They are creating it.” My jaw tightens. Ocean. Our child. Not leverage. Not strategy. They’re turning my life into a pressure point. Wrong move. Deadly move. “Names,” I demand. Mateo exhales slowly. “That’s the problem,” he says. “It’s not one faction.” I finally look at him. “What does that mean?” “It means they’re coordinating,” he replies. “Different syndicates. Different interests. But all aligned on one objective.” A sharp, humorless laugh escapes me.

"He’s moving into bigger territory. International syndicates. They’re backing him. Money, weapons, protection. Real power." I froze. Carefully, carefully, I kept my face blank. "What syndicate?" I asked. He hesitated, glancing around the club like someone might be listening. "The Marcone Network," he whispered. "Heavyweights. Global. You mess with them, you don't just lose your life. You lose your bloodline." I swallowed, throat dry. The Marcone Network. I had heard whispers.. stories about a syndicate that moved money, arms, influence like gods behind a curtain.

Accurate. These wolves were trained by someone. I bent down clutching a handful of fur near the wolf’s neck. The metallic odor struck me instantly. Piercing. Synthetic. Off. It wasn’t blood or dirt or anything organic. It was Syndicate. A chill wave swept across my chest. That scent was unmistakable to me. I had inhaled it during dark nights, through numerous botched talks and beside too many corpses we arrived too late to rescue. The Shadow Syndicate consistently left behind a mark—a film combined with a metallic odor, the aroma of whatever toxin they employed to control their troops.

We were the same. It was the gathering of the underworld. They called it the Syndicate Ball. It was always a night wrapped in mystery, spoken of only in code. Where fortunes were discussed over glasses of century-old wine. Where wars were postponed for a dance. Where vengeance were paused for a drink. Where the deadliest men alive smiled politely and shook hands with the ones they would one day bury. Whether you meant it or not, that night, you had to have a smile masked on your face.

“Don’t act irrationally, such opportunities won’t come again.” He was right. I knew that I couldn’t win by myself, even my death wouldn’t stop The Syndicate.

SASHA. Kade stared at it. His face went pale. "That is my brother nickname. From when we were kids. No one calls me that here. No one knows." I looked closer. "You sure? Could be a coincidence." Kade shook his head. "No coincidence. Sasha. Only my family used it. After he died. This is them. The syndicate. They are in the crowd." I kept my voice low. "Psychological stuff. Trying to mess with your head during the game."