THE MAFIA'S ASSASSIN

THE MAFIA'S ASSASSIN

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Apr 16, 2025
Nikolai Salvatore Kozlov, Don of the Kozlov throne, was the embodiment of fear and power. His strikingly handsome features, only added to his intimidating presence. Nikolai was the most feared and ruthless Mafia Don alive. Wherever he went, danger followed, and chaos was never far behind. He ruled with an iron fist, taking what he wanted without hesitation and destroying anyone who dared to oppose him. Leader of the Russian and the Italian mafia. His very aura was a blend of murderous intent, unshakable power, and vast wealth, leaving a trail of fear in his wake. Valentina Storm, once a girl who couldn't harm a fly, had transformed into a cold-hearted assassin. Known for her ability to kill without hesitation or emotion, she became a living weapon, shaped by her father into an unfeeling killing machine. Her beauty was unmatched-like that of a goddess-but it was her deadly skill that made her feared. She had a mission, she was prepared to do whatever it took. But everything changed when she crossed paths with a man whose deep, dark blue eyes seemed to pierce through her soul. KOZLOV SERIES : BOOK #1 Written by scarlettfics.
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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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