Race to The Mafia
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RACE TO THE MAFIA
COVER MADE BY: @Laylaxybae
this book is NOT like normal mafia books, this is very unrealistic!!
~~~~~
Leo sits up. "You sure you don't want to sleep on here?"
"I'm not sleeping with you." I reply coldly.
"I didn't say you had to." He states.
"Turn off the lights." I command him.
He laughs. "No."
I sigh and get off the dingy sofa to turn off the lights.
I turn off the lights, "Turn them back on." Leo demands.
I laugh, "No." I mock him.
~~~~~
DESCRIPTION:
2 "leaders" who can't seem to settle on a decision.
2 hackers who are ex-assassins.
1 thief who can't shut up.
1 engineer who's a little too happy.
1 soldier who would rather observe and watch the show.
All of the Mafia Heirs are put together in a boarding school, which prepares them to lead the Mafia.
Something goes wrong, and they are sent on a mission to each of their native countries in order to stop it.....or at least try to.
It's a race to try and save the world, a race of life, or death
~~~~~
DISCLAIMER:
I used google translate for all of the translations throughout the book, so please correct me if it's wrong :))
This is also my first book....so it's probably shit but be patient w me😫
All Rights Reserved
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Pain comes in many forms. Heartbreak, headaches, broken bones, and that quiet, soul-splitting kind that doesn't leave bruises. But the kind of pain I've witnessed goes beyond all that. Have you ever heard a man scream, really scream, as he's being beaten and his fingers broken one by one? I have. And as twisted as it might sound, in that moment, it felt... satisfying. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a psychopath. These people, they deserve it. In a world full of monsters, someone has to be worse. Someone has to be the shadow in the corner, the final judgment behind a red-drenched smile. That someone is me. Reanne Anderson. Twenty-four. Assassin for the Anderson family. Secret hacker behind their impenetrable systems but to most, I'm the Red Lady. I respect boundaries until someone crosses mine. Then I become a storm in heels, or combat boots, or whatever the hell I'm wearing that day. And then there's him. Lorenzo Russo. Twenty-eight. Newly crowned Don of the Russo family after his father was butchered by the Russian mafia. Lost his mother in the same bloodbath. He's cold, calculated and ruthless. He looks at people like he's already decided whether they're useful or dead. He's got the eyes of a man who's seen too much, felt too little, and trusts no one. Our paths were never supposed to cross. But war doesn't care about plans. He needed someone who could crack into encrypted systems. He needed a ghost. He got me. But sometimes, even in the darkest corners of the world, two dark souls might just bleed for each other.
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