Tmnt Donnie 2012 Novels & Stories

A half-smile rested on his lips, like a rich kid watching a performance. When the coin clicked against the table, the entire room fell silent. He was the newly installed Don. He was young and already notorious for bathing traitors in blood. He spoke only a few times during the meeting. When he did, his tone sounded casual, almost bored, as if he were choosing a casino for later that night. No one dared miss a single word. I knew he was dangerous. I understood it with perfect clarity. Yet the moment the coin left his fingers, my heartbeat slipped completely out of control.

“Don’t choke on the boba at the bottom. I’m going to sleep now.” It wasn’t midnight yet, but Dawn was exhausted. He had the right to be. After a near-death experience and going on the run while babysitting a mythical creature, the mafia boss wanted a good sleep. He had been driving all day and roughing it out on the road. Hopefully, he would be able to have a relaxing hot shower when he reconnected with his aide and get access to his hideout. “Good night, Don.” “Night, Aqua. Wake me up if something happens.”

“Do you think catching Ronan Lombardi will actually give us the peace we’re looking for?” I knew it was a long shot, but I wanted to hear what he thought. Renzo met my eyes through the rearview mirror. Wilfred coughed awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “Honestly, Ma’am,” Renzo said with a shrug, “no. With you being a Moretti and Marco running the show, peace isn’t really on the table.” I expected that answer, but it still hit hard. I guess I’d been holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the end of it.

My early life had been quite difficult, with series of trainings here and there, because, as papà says, the life of a don is unpredictable. And I loved it like that. Earlier this year, I'd requested for a one year leave from papà, to live a free life for a short while. That's how I found myself here in Dellany High, and seatmate to the most intriguing girl I've ever met. Forget that she always looks for ways make some noise. I know that there's something wrong with her somewhere. I've noticed that she's always hungry, or exhausted, or tired or dull. She misses classes, although she's pretty bright, and she comes to school late.

The surgery blade in his hand flashed under the cold light. "Don Marino, the Donna's indicators have all come back positive. Her immune system has been suppressed to its lowest point. We can start removing her kidney." "Do it," Ernest spat out the words coldly. The anesthesiologist walked slowly toward me and came closer to my spine with a long, thick needle. "Relax, Donna Marino. It will be over very soon." When the needle pierced my skin, I closed my eyes and started a silent countdown. Three. Two. One.

In the chat window lay the message I had sent him hours earlier: "Are you done?" He called me. No answer. He called again. Still no answer. He summoned his assistant, Dante Russo. "Call Carlo. Ask if my wife is still there." The assistant made the call. His face changed. "Mr. Bellandi, Carlo said Donna waited until midnight, then left. She left alone." Something inside Matteo suddenly went hollow. He thrust the child into the nanny's arms and turned toward the door. Sienna chased after him. "Matteo! Where are you going? The ceremony isn't finished!"

Isabella purred. They began to tease and get hot and heavy with each other while I watched. Isabella got on her knees before Frank and undid his pants. Then, she dragged her tongue along his shaft. They quickly lost themselves in the heated endeavor. Neither of them realized that I'd already cut through the necktie that bound my wrists with a shard from a broken beer bottle on the ground. They didn't see me record their lewd display on my phone, either. "Don Luccasio, the woman blowing your son is your pretty new wife." I wrote the text and sent it to the Don's personal number, which I'd glimpsed before.

One voice cut through the others like a blade. “…the shipment routes are compromised. If Enzo thinks he can run his own plays behind my back, he’s more stupid than I gave him credit for.” My stomach dropped. That voice. Deep, controlled, laced with quiet fury. I’d only heard it a handful of times—at family dinners Enzo dragged me to, always from across the room. Dante Moretti. Enzo’s father. The Don. I froze, glass halfway to my lips again. What the hell was he doing here? Enzo said this was our night. Private.

"When you were looking at that magazine, your eyes were glued to this ring. Couldn't look away." "So I bought it for you." There was a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He had no idea I'd only stared at the ring so he could pay off his debt faster. The cold of the diamond crept up my finger and into my chest. I shivered. But he didn't need my help. Did he? The voice on the phone had just called him Don. The Angelo I knew was a broke kid drowning in mob debt. What a joke. "Three whole years," My voice came out cold. "A Don playing dirt-poor with me. Was it fun?"

I chuckled to myself, it must know her safe word is turtles. Of course, Amelie had to name the turtle. Donatello, or Donnie for short, is our new Hawaiian pet. When we finally got out of the water to set sail, Donnie actually tried to climb the stairs with her. She was heartbroken when we left him behind.