The Saint

Chapter 1

Giovanni POV

On the night of the funeral, 3 hours away from Alora was the capital city of Seville. The city may look beautiful, but just like every city, there are deep dark secrets hidden in the streets. Around midnight, as a beautiful woman was spreading her father's ashes, men were coming to cause damage and take another life from the world. In an empty abandoned warehouse, were dozens of men from Russia.

Some shined their own weapons, while some whores sat next to them counting cold, hard cash.

Music was blasting; girls were getting high or drunk and dancing to music. Money was being thrown at the bodies of women as they gave the Mafia men a show.

The life was a party while they lived and worked dangerously.

The Rostovs were the wealthiest and most dangerous crime family known to the country of Russia. Right next to the next to the Fiorellis in Italy. The Russian government is pretty much their best friend. They can get away with many things that a normal citizen may not.

Car engines roared over the music as a group of my men drove in a few black vans. My Rolls Royce was shining against the fluorescent lightening of the abandon building, but it looked like an amateur club inside. The Russians finished packing the money in a briefcase and locked it.

A pair of green eyes came out of the darkness of the warehouse.

Ambrosim Rostov. My enemy stood tall with a cigarette in his mouth. He was a strong mafia lord.

Deadly.

He always sought to seek revenge on his enemies. He has a black heart, yet he manages to go to confession at church every Sunday. With a thick Russian accent, Ambrosims watched as I got out of the car. I was the head driver who was leading my men into the garage of the abandon warehouse.

"You're late." Ambrosim said.

"Yet I made it." I addressed to him.

My name is Giovanni Fiorelli.

Italian Mafia Boss with a cold heart and a ruthless life. I kill, steal, torture, rape, etc.

I am one of the most wanted men in the world. However, nobody knows how I look like. They only recognize my name. People shake with fear and run once they hear the name.

Four more cars came into the warehouse shop.

"Where is my product?" Ambrosim asked. The Rostovs and Fiorellis have a history of hate and violence towards each other. When it comes to business it was tense.

"In the leather interior. That was hard to sit on when you're driving from Roma to Sevilla." I took out my flask and drank some whiskey. My blue eyes glared into Ambrosim's soul. "If you don't believe me......" I threw the hunting knife to Ambrosim, and he caught it as if it was a baseball. "Look for yourself." Ambrosim scoffed and chuckled while I watched him twirl the knife around in his hand.

Ambrosim and a couple of Russians cut open the seats for 30 minutes. Soon, they got out 100 kilos of cocaine. One Russian started to weigh the drugs.

"You Italians sure know how to hide shit." Dmitri said. He was Ambrosim's right hand man and his younger blood brother as well. My right-hand man Victor leaned into me while he held his gun.

"Gio......I got a bad feeling about this." He said.

"Just keep your guard up. You know we can't trust these Russian pricks." I informed as I kept my eyes on Ambrosim. "Well? My 10 million euros?" I addressed hoping that they didn't forget. Ambrosim chuckled and snapped his fingers. Dmitri came over throwing me the case. I handed the secured case to Christian, or Chris as we call him. He is my other best man. "Count it."