Urban Hood Mga Nobela at Kwento

★ HD Italian Clubhouse ~ The HD Italian Clubhouse was a two-story haven for the city's underworld. No ordinary man would be allowed into the clubhouse, because doing so would invite massacre by the top elites in the city. That was the number one rule among the men who ruled HD: "No one who isn't influential in the Mafia world should be let in, and anything that is said in HD stays."

Determined not to notice how good he looked, “Is there a problem?” I asked. “Interesting neighborhood.” He just said it like an insult. I lived in the eclectic south Oroville neighborhood of Oak Cliff. My street was full of funky, aging houses, some of which—like me—were being carefully renovated, and others of which hovered in a state of negligent disrepair. This part of town had a terrible reputation, although it was far safer now than it had been a couple of decades ago.

Another reason to be angry with the bastard. She soon understood why they’d been allowed to remove their hoods. They were in a narrow, dingy, nondescript alley in Omega City. Thousands of alleys like this one cut through the city. Amber looked around for anything to identify it but found nothing as she and Grayson were ushered from the vehicle. Nothing but back doors, dumpsters, dim lighting, and trash littered this backstreet. Grayson and Amber were sandwiched in between the driver and the oiled man, as they were led in through a back entrance. It led through an industrial kitchen. She recognized many of the appliances as the same grade Leo had in his warehouse.

Without a word, he pulled away from the estate and started the long drive to our destination. Once we hit the city, he guided the car through the streets to the darker side of town, where the street lamps always seemed to be malfunctioning, and pulled to a stop. My beta, wearing a hooded jacket and a face mask in the driver’s seat, put the car in park. “We’re here.” Undertow was one of the seediest bars in any supernatural territory. Technically, it was a neutral zone which meant that anything done here went under the Council’s nose so long as it didn’t bleed into Council-allied territories.

“Yeah, why?” “Nothing. This area looks quite rough.” “Yeah. I guess that’s why it’s called ‘The Hood’. “It sure lives up to its reputation, coupled with the fact that this area makes Atlanta one of the cities with the highest murder rate in the country.” Mike looked at the GPS screen in his car and announced. “We’re almost there.” He took a turn to the left and parked beside a side walk as Kimberly opened the door and walked down the lonely street to a grey one story building apartment.

When Adrian hung up the phone, Samantha asked, “What’s the matter?” “We’ve found Laurel. I’m off to go arrest her right now.” Joanna’s interest was piqued when she heard this and said, “Take us with you, Adrian. We want to see what she looks like.” Naturally, Adrian did not reject her request. “Sure, let’s go.” *** Adrian first changed into his battle suit before heading to Urban Village with Samantha and Joanna. Urban Village was the most iconic area in Swallowston, known for its blue-collar worker residents. Most chose to live in Urban Village because the rental and living costs here were lower.

An Ub*r car stops in front of the gate and Elle gets into it. Scarlett instantly starts her car and slowly follows Elle. The Ub*r is heading for 98th street which is surprising. This place is one of the rundown areas where people live in slums and ghettos. Several buildings are stacked together and a strong stench of cigar and garbage is lingering in the air. The roads are narrow and the walls are stained with graffiti. Scarlett tails Elle’s car to the heart of the ghetto, frowning. Elle stops the car and gets out of it. She takes a deep breath and steps into a dark alley. Behind her, Scarlett also stops the car to peer at her from afar.

At the mouth of the alley, drunken beggars in tatters swayed, their stench filling the air, their skin either dark as night or ghostly white, unmistakably the city's drifters. The nightlife thrived further down, unabated even in the wee hours. Blondes in flashy dresses gyrated at nightclub doors, beckoning to anyone who passed by. In the dimly lit alleys of the red-light district, this place became a haven for the underworld, providing the perfect breeding ground for illicit activities. "Mister Kane, we're here." The Hummer SUV pulled up smoothly in front of a half-built underground parking lot. Aaron and three loyal members stepped out, nodding respectfully to Alexander.

I try to get some work done, but it’s not enough to distract me from this feeling. It’s late in the afternoon when I break. I don’t care what happens. I just need to see both of them. Without another thought, I take a ride and drive to a familiar neighborhood. It doesn’t take long to get where I’m going. Several eyes follow my car as I make my way through Connor and Santana’s neighborhood. A homeless man is hauling a shopping cart full of newspapers and two tattooed men smoking cigarettes near a corner store. This neighborhood is not the best with its rundown and abandoned buildings. The front yards are cluttered with abandoned vehicles, furniture, and garbage. The grass is yellow from lack