The Irish Syndicate Novelas e Histórias

"It was the southern cartels! The Marseille coalition! I owed them eight million on the offshore tables... they were going to skin my brother alive in Milan!" A cold, sickening weight dropped straight into my stomach. Mikael let out a low, rough growl from the doorway, his boots shifting heavily against the rubble as he took a half-step forward, his jaw locked like iron. "You sold her location... to the syndicate that slaughtered her family."

Lenny’s hand found my forearm and gripped hard. Pier 17. The same cannery where we had pulled Sofia out of the Irish trade only the night before and a new player, someone inside what remained of the pure-blood network had just stepped into the vacuum the Irish high command’s silence had left behind. I stared at the road ahead as the sun began to drop. The Irish had gone quiet cause something worse had just spoken.

"Thank you, sir." Sawyer Brennan nods once. He watches the young man hurry away toward the tables. Then the big front doors click open. "Look at that," Declan Sullivan whispers. Two men walk into the room. The first guy is Jack Donovan. He walks in like he owns the whole city block. He looks proud. But the young man walking behind him is totally different. It is Sean O'Shea, the Hidden Syndicate Heiress of the O'Shea Crime Family. Sean looks down at his boots. His big, broad shoulders are tense. He pulls hard at his tight black shirt. He looks totally scared and wants to hide from the bright lights.

"I have no intention of saying 'I do.' I have the second half of the ledger. But we need a distraction. Something big enough to move the Don’s personal guard away from the vault." Dante tilted her chin up. "I can trigger a raid. A fake one. But it puts you in the line of fire. If the feds come in screaming, my brothers won't know you’re on our side. They’ll shoot anything that moves in this house." "Then don't bring the feds," Isabella whispered, her gaze turning lethal. "Bring the chaos. Call the Irish syndicate. Tell them the North Harbor shipment was moved to the mansion. Let the monsters kill each other while we take the heart of the empire."

Finally the Syndicate decided to cast monitors and surveillance cameras in Katondo Street. The five member group was called the Syndicate in all the places people dared to refer to it. The Syndicate was a highly clandestine small gathering of people whose physical locations were unknown to each other for security reasons. The members had no history together and their ages varied considerably. This was necessitated in order to tap knowledge and experience from different generational periods. The oldest was the General and the youngest was the young errand boy Kelly.

“Besides, the people who play the game always leave different. It brings out the worst in people.” “It can also bring out the best.” Adley shrugged, popping another french fry into her mouth. “Just depends on the person.” Iridian was the event of the year, causing excited chatter throughout the world. Open to werewolves only, Iridian is a game designed to trick the mind. Every year twenty invitations were sent at random, delivered to all parts of the world. No one knows the full story on how it began, only that a young Alpha with a penchant for trickery and games started the tradition. History mixed with folklore, weaving a tale of magic and betrayal.