Tmnt Donnie 2012 Novels & Stories

"Mamma, stay here. I'll take care of them." "Wait." I stopped him, walked to the wardrobe, and pulled out a dust-covered case. When I opened it, a black mafia sidearm lay inside. It was the weapon I had carried back when I ruled the family. "I'm coming with you. The Donna of the Medicis has never been someone who hides behind others."

“Jace Blackwell. Look who decided to drag his pretty ass in here on a weekday.” I grin when I see Donny leaning against the ropes of the main ring. He’s been here since my father was still sneaking out to fight underground before he put on his fancy suits. Donny’s hair is more gray than black now, his nose is crooked three different ways, his smile is big, and he is missing a tooth. He flicks his eyes at Liana, who’s hovering near the door with her arms crossed like she might bolt any second. “And who’s this? Didn’t know you brought your girlfriends around here.”

And then she saw him. The Don. His shirt was gone, chest slick with sweat, the white bandage at his ribs already stained with red where stitches pulled against skin that refused to stay still. He fought like an animal caged too long—each strike measured but violent, each dodge precise. The man across from him was taller, broader, but it didn’t matter. The Don’s presence filled the ring like he was ten men at once. Selena’s pulse thudded. He should be resting. She had told him to rest. But here he was, standing in the middle of a fight like the bullet that nearly killed him meant nothing.

“Mr. Matteo is in the gym.” I nodded and headed down the hallway she indicated, coffee cup warm in my hands, robe clutched tight. The gym door was open. I heard the rhythmic, hard thud of fists hitting a heavy bag before I saw him. Matteo was there. No shirt. Sweat glistening on his shoulders and down the hard lines of his back. Tattoos moved with every powerful strike... ink covering his chest, ribs, wrapping around his sides. He hit the bag with controlled fury, precise and relentless, like he was working something out.

Liam O’Grady was in the desert with his brother. The hot sun was beating down on them. But the mood in the Delano camp was euphoric. They had managed to get Proserpina Delano freed from the maniac that was El Toro. And it had happened after its fair share of drama. With bated breath, awed and full of disbelief, they had watched as Lucien Delano, the ageing Mafia Don, had calmly stripped off his shirt after tossing his jacket to the dust as he prepared to take on El Toro in a man-to-man fight.

Once I was done, I handed it over to Matteo. “What do you mean no?” Ares read the note over Matteo's shoulder. “I'm the Don and no one dares tell me no. You will come with me and that's final.” I scribbled a bigger no, before tossing it at his feet. “Anna, If you would just…” A loud bang cut Matteo off. Sarah yelped out loud, while I fell to the floor. My ears buzzed, but I caught a glimpse of the loud noise.

“Don Marino, it was Dante’s request to be left alone…” “A request you should have ignored!” he barked. The room grew quiet. “You left my son alone to be killed by a nobody—a worthless death—killed by an old man on the streets of Sicily!” he yelled. “A nobody killed my son. He was going to be Don…” He chuckled dryly, hands shaking, trying to control his anger but failing at it. Everyone watched the Don. He was always a symbol of control and composure—now not so much. They watched as he unraveled before them. He still hadn’t shed a tear.

After all, they were all eager to witness the 45-year-old Don marrying the 25-year-old woman who had almost married his son. I wore an ivory-white wedding gown with a 33-foot-long train. Vittore was waiting for me at the altar in a bespoke black suit, his blond hair perfectly slicked back. I could feel his gaze fixed intently on me as I was walking down the aisle toward him while holding Dad's arm. Dad's hand trembled as he placed mine in his, whispering, "Please treat her well, Don Corleone." Vittore remained silent. He simply clasped my hand, holding it firmly.

"I forgot last night." I took it and opened it right in front of him. Inside was a black Doberman model, meticulously crafted with teeth and eyes that looked disturbingly realistic. My hands went rigid. Leo was terrified of dogs. More precisely, he was terrified of all large dogs. When he was four, Aido had promised to take him out for the first time. At a horse racing club, he'd left Leo with a bodyguard halfway through so he could meet with an important business partner. The bodyguard answered a phone call, turned away for just a moment, and Leo disappeared.

That I have only one weakness. That weakness is Vincent. And the second person? Don Vincent White himself. The youngest, most ambitious, most dangerous Don in the city. I understood my grandfather's confusion. Even I hadn't seen this coming. Vincent's three-year mission. All a lie. I didn't say a word about what I'd heard. But my grandfather must have sensed something. He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke softly. "If you've truly made up your mind, your grandfather will support you. Come home. I promise you, your future will not be filled with sorrow."