Novel & Cerita Vongola Primo

“A failsafe she created decades ago. One I was stupid enough to help her build. She could erase the entire Italian syndicate structure—with one sequence of commands.” Alessa’s heart hammered. “That’s not possible.” “It’s Gloria,” Vittorio replied. “Everything is possible with her.” Alessa stared at him, horror and awe mixing like poison in her veins. “And that,” Vittorio continued, “is why she sabotaged the gala.” Alessa’s brows furrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?” “Your little fiancé was supposed to receive one trillion dollars that night,” Vittorio said with distaste. “Do you know what one trillion does in the wrong hands?”

Chapter 1 Tori Angelo Rizzo; 34. Vittoria – Tori Romano; 23. “Mark my words,” Giorgio says. “By the end of the year, I’ll be one of the bosses.” I almost let out a snort. Listening to my stepbrother go on and on about how important he is in the Cosa Nostra is ridiculous. He wishes.

The caller ID tells me it's Frankie and I pinch the bridge of my nose because I have a feeling he’s calling with bad news. Classic fucking Frankie. “I’m on my way,” I say, and don’t even wait for him to answer before I put the phone down again. But when I open the front door to walk to the armored Bentayga, I wish I fucking listened to him. On my doorstep is Vito, along with the three Camorra heads: Sal ‘Snake-Eyes’ Bianchi, Aldo ‘Fats’ Colombo, and Vinny ‘The Sandman’ Ricci. Older generation scumbags with shitty nicknames and too much fucking power if you ask me.

One of Vittorio Romano’s men pushed open the meeting room doors when we approached and the conversations inside immediately stopped. Five men already sat around the long dark table. Vittorio Romano at the head, blonde-haired, with cold blue eyes. Still dangerous despite his age. And to his right sat his son Alessio Romano, then Mico. One of Italy’s deadliest and there were other underbosses from allied territories too. And empty whiskey glasses were scattered across the table. Looks like I wasn’t the only one having a bad night. “Matteo,” Vittorio greeted calmly.

It was thick and hard like an ATM card with some words chiseled on it. It has a six digit number on it, and a logo of a two tulip flower entangled on each other. Serene read the words on top of the ticket. “Casa Roma.” “The Casa Roma was the prestigious hotel freshly built on the Vianca Island. I'm sure you already heard about that island in the east. I stayed there once and they have the best wine ever in the whole continent. It's a good thing they built an official hotel on that place because resort houses was a bit old fashioned for me.” Sydney had gone through the Vianca Island after college graduation. She met few hunks there, but the tourists on the Vianca Island mostly are womanizer.

One of Vitale’s men handed her a document to sign. “This is it,” Vitale murmured. “The beginning of something unstoppable.” Marcella smiled, lifting the pen. And then— Gunfire erupted. The Attack Begins Leo fired the first shot, taking out one of Vitale’s guards before they could react. Dante moved like a shadow, slicing through two more men before they even had a chance to draw their weapons. Isabella’s pulse pounded as she closed the distance to Marcella. Marcella’s eyes widened as she spotted Isabella.

They were expanding, hungry, and they didn’t share. Vito’s first job for the Monteortone came through a bartender named Tano at Il Capo, a hole-in-the-wall where the espresso was strong enough to wake the dead. Tano slid him an envelope across the zinc counter. “Deliver this to the fishmonger at La Vucciria. Don’t open it. Don’t be late.” Inside were bricks of cash and a burner phone. Vito made the drop, collected a nod and a thousand euros. Easy. Familiar. The beast stirred.

The text here was less clinical, written with a harsh, scratching pressure that had indented the paper. Enzo Vanni running an unauthorized mirror on the residence server core. 03:00 AM check-in verified. Contact point: Silvio's harbor vanguard. Cross-reference with Alberto Marcone's offshore clearing bank in Lugano. Vanni is leaking the Rotterdam maritime coordinates to cover his personal deficit in the Campione casino accounts. Total transaction value: 4.2 million euros. execution of the Don's counter-leverage code is imminent.

“They're all dead.” “Are you a cop?” My breath rasped in my throat. “Who are you?” “Marco Vitale.” He said coolly. His eyes remained on me like he wanted to catch my genuine reaction. “Like…you mean…the Black Requiem? The infamous Italian mob boss—Marco Vitale?” He grunted a deep approving sound from his throat. “You're well informed.”