The Mafia's Broker Novels & Stories

It did not fit any category we had established. "A contact request. Not from Elena. A separate channel. An individual identifying themselves as The Broker." "That is not a name." "No. It is a professional designation. Rem's preliminary cross-reference suggests it belongs to an international arms dealer. He has been operating across six continents for twenty years. He has no confirmed identity." "What does The Broker want." Rem turned the tablet toward us. The message was brief. It said: I know what Elena is doing and I know why. I also know something about her that she has not told you. Something about her father. I am offering to help you against my own daughter. I want thirty minutes and a

I gave her a hard stare before leaving the room. It was time to deal with the incompetence of my men. I expected the Martin's to try something funny and I prepared for it—thought I did. How could they have been so foolish? Suddenly, a call came in. It was from Santos, the man in charge of the the dark flood (Alluvione Oscura) mafia's businesses at the Bronx. "Boss, I have news." "Spill." "The deal with the Moreli's have been sealed. A good thing for us, especially now."

“I won't consider doing that if you agree to cooperate with us.“ “W-what can I possibly do?“ asked the poor woman with a scared and regretful voice. “I only manage the workers of this club—” “You could serve as a bait for your son,” replied Mr Miller. “What?! What has Raven done this time? Did he—” “Shut the fuck up!“ yelled Mr Miller. Stephanie Brigance shut up her mouth as the mafia Don had ordered. She wasn't a wife to the late Gomez Waxson or even a concubine. She just happened to be the mother of his first child before she discovered his identity as the Don of an extended Mafia Family. Mr Miller gave a sign to Darkie and he came over with a phone in his hands. He gave the phone to Mr Mi

I pushed her to the brink. “Boss, you good with that?” Deron asks, snapping my focus back to the present. I look around the dark SUV as my inner circle, Deron, Stephon, Kris, and Max, are preparing to help orchestrate a raid on a meatpacking plant. It’s one of many business fronts for the Scarfo mafia. This one, in particular, is run by Vinnie and his crew. It took a little digging, but Max managed to track the bastard down with ease.

I gestured vaguely. "A war room?" Dante suggested. "Yes." "That's accurate." I moved closer to the boards. Some of the photographs showed unfamiliar men. Others showed buildings warehouses, docks, clubs. A few had red marks drawn over them. "What are these?" I asked quietly. "Problems." That was such a Dante answer. I turned toward him. "You deal with problems like this every day?" "Yes." "And people still think joining the mafia is glamorous," I muttered. His gaze sharpened slightly. "No one joins this world because it's glamorous."

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips—hungry eyes locked on me. Simona was Umberto Mancini’s daughter. Drago’s closest ally and sort of my fiancé, even if nothing was official yet. The old man was hellbent on marrying me off to her and tying our families in a neat little bow of power and bloodlines. The classic mafia fairytale.

“You don’t get to ask that. She trusted you.” “I owe you nothing,” she replied coldly, though inside her stomach was twisting. “Brittany!” His voice broke. “She treated you like a sister! She… she—” “Is that why you’re breaking like this? Or is it because your little love story is dead? Did you picture marrying me, Marco? Children? A future?” “Britt…” “You’re a fool. This is the mafia. Nothing here is real—no one.” “Is that why you kept pushing me away? Is that why you couldn’t love me?”

“Yes. But I was able to settle in. You've seen my numbers, you've seen my work. We are offering material in good faith to other public and private entities, both national and international. Not anymore...we need them.” “That's why Xavier's company went bankrupt. You kept it for him.” “You can already imagine that John did not give a hint of grace…” “So what...did they?” “They played it to me.” Fuck. “What happened?” I insist. “They hired a Russian mobster who played me horrible. I managed to turn the situation around and not get so hurt, but this one is capable of anything. It's a real animal. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.

"Yeah, the name sounds familiar. If I had to guess, he's probably the head of a big gangster in Brooklyn." Bella closed her mouth. Her guess was the same. His appearance was not far from the gangsters in movies. Neat, arrogant, and cold. "What if you're being targeted to be kidnapped and sold into the human trafficking market?" Darrell teased. "Hey, why are you scaring me?" Bella pouted. Darrell burst out laughing. "I'm just kidding. Or maybe he's fallen in love with you. Ah, so romantic. An innocent girl chased by a ruthless and cold mafia boss." Bella sneered. Until now, she couldn't conclude Marco Vilante's intentions.

I took an oath when I joined the East Coast Mafia, a solemn vow to uphold our code and protect our own above all else. That oath wasn't just words; it was a binding contract of loyalty and trust. And I broke one of our most sacred rules: absolutely do not mess with our members' families. Ever. Family is off-limits. It's a hard line, etched in stone. And I've shattered it. I’ve broken the trust that binds us. I took their son as if he was a mere pawn in a twisted game, and handed him over to my brother. It was supposed to be leverage, a calculated move to cement our influence and position by taking over Sebastian’s crew.