Venice Heist Novels & Stories

The icy rain of Zurich felt like needles against Dante’s skin as he ducked into a narrow alleyway behind the Bahnhofstrasse. His lungs burned, each breath a sharp reminder of the violence he had just committed in the bowels of the bank. In his satchel, the titanium case clattered—a heavy, silent witness to the ghost of Leonard Virelli.

He hadn't stopped me because he was waiting for the perfect moment to use it as leverage. "You owe me four point eight million, Aria" the message continued. Consider your marriage to Dante Moretti your first payment. If you try to run, or if you fail to marry him on Sunday, I will not only kill your friend Elena, i will tell Dante exactly who has been robbing the Moretti family for the last six months. The laptop slipped from my fingers. I slumped back onto the pillows with air leaving my lungs in a long, shaky exhale. I was trapped. I wasn't just a bride; I was a hostage. If Dante found out I was the hacker who had stolen his shipping manifests and three million dollars from his private fun

“Not now. But later… I’ll make you beg.” Promise hung heavy, Aiden’s cock twitching at the thought Silas’s dominance, the leash tightening. But Kurogane closed in. Silas signaled his crew: “Breach the warehouse. Grab the files, torch the rest.” They stormed in a coordinated heist mafia precision honed from New York back alleys. Aiden covered Silas as he hacked the safe, fingers flying over a keypad. Gunfire echoed; a crew member fell, gut-shot. Kurogane’s leader a wiry man with a dragon tattoo snaking up his neck sneered from the catwalk. “Vane. Your American filth ends here. Kane promised us your head.”

"What does that actually mean? Did you catch him? Is he already in a trunk somewhere?" "Not yet," Nico answered, his eyes scanning the road ahead, always alert. "We spotted him in Manhattan, Lower East Side, trying to meet a fence to get rid of some assets." "Assets?" "Diamonds," he said flatly. "Uncut, part of what he stole from the syndicate safe." My stomach dropped. "He told me it was just cash, to pay loan sharks." Nico let out a short, harsh laugh that had no humor. "Elena, your father didn't take cash for debts. He took bonds, jewels, ledger files, he took leverage, he planned this for years, he's not desperate he's greedy."

he says dubiously, almost unsure. “...mmm. Well then, Sphinx, you’re aware of what took place at one of my docks?” Lucius’ monotonous voice slowly floats towards me. Just before I snuck out, I went through all his camera footage. From the airport to the docks. While doing so I saw the heist done by the Halcones (Spanish for Falcons). They killed the members there and stole the Scorpions’ drug shipment. I nod, “The Halcóns stole your drug shipment.” I state all-knowingly.

“Vincenzo’s primary accounts have shown a massive influx of activity. He’s moving. He believes he has the De La Fonte keys, but he’s currently funneling his own untraceable reserves into what he thinks are our distressed assets. He’s bleeding himself dry to 'save' the empire he thinks he just stole from you.” A dark, humorless smile twitched at the corner of my mouth. Vincenzo Moreno was a brilliant predator, but his arrogance was a terminal illness. He thought he understood me. He thought he had finally found the price I wasn't willing to pay. He didn't realize that for Catrina, there was no price. I would burn every building with my name on it, I would salt the earth of the St. Clair legac

He crawled frantically across the floor. Suddenly, he looked up and screamed toward the second-floor booth. “Angelina! I know where Vincent hid the money back in our house! “I also know that Carmela once stole Don Corleone’s token to try to exchange it for cash! “Please! As long as you stop this, I’ll tell you everything! “Let them die for me! They’re useless anyway!”

She’d come for Vincent, but now it seemed that ghosts were emerging from every corner, and she wasn’t sure who was haunting whom. “Elena,” Vincent’s voice pulled her focus, smooth and measured, but there was a bite in it, as if he was aware of her distraction. “I didn’t think you’d make it out to Jersey tonight.” She turned to him, masking her shock at his words. She hadn’t told anyone about the intel or about going to Venice. Slipping on the empty stool beside him, she angled her body, so that she kept the “dead” man in her peripheral vision. “I’m here for answers, Vincent. No more games.”

She handed the uber driver his money while I looked around, I was hearing loud music and I was looking for the source. "I'll be committing a crime if I collect money from such a beautiful girl." I rolled my eyes at his cheekiness. "That's so kind of you." She smiled at him. "But I'd like your number." He winked at her and I gagged. "Okay." She gave him her number and he drove away. "He's going to my blacklist." She said as she walked past me. "Is that the cottage?" I asked as I noticed the music was coming from there, we were in a very quiet neighborhood and the road was interlocked not tarred.

"We need you to act as our legal proxy in Zurich while we are in Italy. If anything happens to us if we miss a scheduled check-in every twenty-four hours, you release the unencrypted copies of Arthur Vance’s ledger directly to the European Central Bank and the Interpol Financial Crimes Division." Levin looked at us sternly through his thick lenses, then nodded slowly. "A defensive stalemate trigger. A smart precaution. But be careful, Mira. The men who sit at the High Table in Venice do not play chess for sport. They play it as a religion of pure power." On October 29th, under a gray, overcast Manhattan sky, Daniel and I boarded an overnight flight from JFK to Marco Polo Airport in Venice. A