Vongola Primo Novels & Stories

“Held in the same cellar where we once interrogated our enemies. Fitting.” I didn’t come alone. "Two-minute mark, Papà" whispered Gulia through the comm, her voice sultry and crisp despite the interference. "Cameras are down. I've given you a seven-minute window before the backups kick in Vince." "Noted," Vince muttered, clearly disgusted. His tone clipped. I wasn’t stepping into that building as Dante Rossi. No. Dante Rossi was dead. Tonight, I was no one. And no one leaves a trail. They were smart installing hidden cameras, but I was Lupo for a reason.

Elena spat back. The Morellos were everything Elena's family, the Vitales, pretended to be. Rich, powerful, and unquestionably in charge. Where Mr. Vitale played at being an old school Italian mafia boss, he was a simple capo compared to the don that was Mr. Morello. Don Morello was the actual boss, the leader of both the Vitale and Morello families. And he was no doubt pissed at the Vitales for their late payments of tribute.

“You brought me back. You lit this fuse.” He looked at her — not with softness, but reverence. “You are not the same girl I once loved,” he said. “No,” she replied. “I'm worse.” They kissed like sinners. And suited up for war. The assault came like thunder at midnight. Three Moretti convoys hit Vitale's warehouse front in Agrigento — a false front for laundering. Inside, dozens of his men scrambled to respond. Explosives, suppressed rifles, smoke. Amara led the infiltration through the back corridor, her boots slicked with blood. She reached the office upstairs, dragging the last of Vitale's capos out by the collar.

Damon "Why is your accountant doing shady business?" I asked the one I called the bull. In reality, his name was Ricolletti. He was one of the seven barons or seven lords of the mafia city of Ofalia. He was one of the stronger ones and pulled in the most men in terms of workforce. He was the sort of man I shouldn't have as an enemy, but the man loved to antagonize me, and when I was pushed, I would push back.

Alessandro walked towards the torture bunker while waiting for his enforcer, Romero. He knew the man would be back very soon and the thought that he was coming with a Russian spy made his skin crawl with excitement, he had no idea how she managed to get to Romero but the game has just begun. if they thought he was capo for being this stupid then they need to think again, this man wasn’t someone they could mess with. This man is Alessandro Russo.

But there he was, shamelessly playing with the money he choose over me… As soon as we arrived, everyone could sense how tense the environment became. Everyone's eyes were on Xavier Ford. I dee, he looked fierce and intimidating. His eyes were solely glued to Angelo. The old man said “Yes”. Then Xavier went ahead “Are you ready?" Xavier asked Angelo with an electric glance at each other “Yes I am and how much are you staking?" Angelo confidently.

A voice sliced through the silence, Aurelio's voice. He stepped forward in a cold and cruel voice. “Treason. And that means… Off. With. His. Head!.” A slow smile curled at the corner of Angelo's lips, empty of warmth but enough to reveal his dimples. He didn't look at Aurelio. His eyes remained locked on the trembling man before him. “Vito,” He called, almost softly. The enforcer, Vito Vitale stepped forward without hesitation, cracking his knuckles as he stared at the traitor.

Massimo straightened, his entire demeanor shifting. The loving husband disappeared, replaced by Don Valentino, head of one of the most powerful crime families in Italy. Julia had seen this transformation countless times, but it still unnerved her. The minutes stretched like hours. Then, finally, the sound of cars in the driveway. Julia's hands trembled. She clasped them together, willing herself to remain calm. She'd practiced her reaction in the mirror all day—polite surprise, nothing more. She couldn't afford to give anything away. The front door opened, and Massimo's men ushered in the Russian delegation.

Tucked behind a small sliding panel near the back, where some books were stuffed in carelessly was a small, black wallet. The kind that looked like it belonged to an assassin or an undercover spy. I grabbed it, my fingers trembling slightly as I flipped it open. Two IDs. Gotcha. I pulled them out slowly, eyes scanning the first one. It was an Italian identity card. REPUBBLICA ITALIANA MINISTERO DELL’INTERNO COMUNE/ MUNICIPALITY: Milan COGNOME/ SURNAME: Romano NOME/ NAME: Vincenzo LUOGO E DATA DI NASCITA/ DATE OF BIRTH: 25-05-1985

Jonathan’s blades held him firm, tightening his grip till drops of blood came running down his neck. “Okay fine, I tell you!” he protested, trembling as he spoke. “They paid me to do my job and I do it.” “Who hired you?” I was beginning to lose my mind. His forehead was filled with sweat beads, rolling down. “It was Rodrigo. Rodrigo Mascolo. He is my boss.” I pulled back puzzled, running my hands through my hair as Jonathan and I glanced at each other. Rodrigo Mascolo, the infamous Italian mafia leader. Attacking Vanessa was no coincidence. It was premeditated.