Novel-novel oleh Riyahsecret

The loft had become our war room, maps and burner phones scattered across the kitchen island like battle scars on skin. Rain hammered the windows, a relentless drumbeat that matched the pulse in my temples. Four days since the dock hit, and Alejandro's empire was fracturing—clubs burned, funds frozen, men turning or dying. But he wasn't broken yet. Not until I put the bullet in him myself.Shane paced, phone to his ear, coordinating with our thin network of allies. Nadia had fed us the final piece: Alejandro's hideout, a fortified mansion upstate, where he holed up with his wife Clarissa and his last loyal crew. "Twenty men," Shane said, hanging up. "Armed heavy. Clarissa's there—hostage or not, she's collateral."I sipped coffee, black and bitter, staring at the satellite photo. Clarissa—blonde, vicious, Alejandro's equal in cruelty. She'd run the girls' side of YBA, luring them with promises before chaining them. "No mercy," I said, voice flat. "She dies with him."Shane stopped

The safe house was a nondescript brownstone in Brooklyn, tucked away on a quiet street where the neighbors minded their own business and the nuns who ran it asked no questions. We pulled up just as dawn cracked the horizon, the sky bleeding pink and orange like a fresh wound. The van's engine ticked as it cooled, and I could hear the girls in the back—whispers in languages I half-understood, sniffles muffled by exhaustion and relief. Twenty lives pulled from the brink, their chains still dangling from wrists like grim jewelry. Shane killed the headlights, his face shadowed but eyes sharp, scanning the street for tails."We're clear," he muttered, hand on his Glock as he stepped out. I followed, my shoulder throbbing under the hasty bandage—blood seeping through, a hot reminder of the graze. The fog from the docks clung to our clothes, mixing with the metallic tang of gunpowder and sweat.Sister Maria met us at the door, her habit crisp despite the hour, eyes kind but knowing. She'd

The loft felt smaller after the meet at Eclipse, the walls pressing in with the weight of secrets and strategies. Rain slashed against the windows like accusing fingers, the storm outside mirroring the one brewing in my chest. I shed the Evelyn Pierce disguise in pieces, wig tossed into the sink, pearls unclasped and dropped onto the vanity, the black dress peeled off like a layer of deceit. Naked in front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection: bruises from Shane's earlier grip fading on my hips, the faint scar from a old knife fight snaking across my ribs, eyes sharp with the thrill of the game. The flash drive sat on the counter, innocuous plastic holding the potential to topple an empire. Nadia, Marcus, and Victor had given me the ammunition, but firing it meant stepping into the crosshairs.I wrapped myself in a silk robe, the fabric whispering against my skin as I padded back to the living room. Shane was there, as always—my anchor in the chaos. He lounged on the couch, l

The city lights blurred into streaks as I drove back from Eclipse, the burner phone buzzing in my clutch like a live wire. Shane’s text glowed on the screen: Home yet? Need you. Simple words, but they carried the weight of his worry—and his hunger. I smiled, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat. The flash drive from Nadia burned a hole in my thoughts. If it was legit, we’d have Alejandro by the balls. If not… well, that’s why I had Victor’s video as backup. The mayor’s secret moans echoed in my mind, a weapon sharper than any blade.I pulled into the loft’s garage, the engine’s rumble dying as I killed the ignition. The space was dim, concrete walls echoing my heels as I headed for the elevator. My mind raced ahead—verifying the intel, looping Shane in, planning the hit. Four nights. That’s all we had to turn their tip into Alejandro’s nightmare.The door clicked open, and there he was: Shane, shirtless in low-slung sweats, leaning against the kitchen island with a glass of w

LOVIA’S POV:The VIP lounge at Eclipse felt like a velvet-lined trap: low amber lighting, leather booths that swallowed sound, the faint pulse of jazz curling around cigar smoke and expensive perfume. I sat in the corner booth with my back to the wall, legs crossed, martini glass cradled loosely in one manicured hand. Evelyn Pierce—blonde wig flawless, pearls glowing against my throat, black dress cut just low enough to distract without screaming desperation. The perfect mask.They arrived separately, like cautious animals testing the water.Nadia first. Tall, raven-haired, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. The red dress clung to her like a warning. She slid in across from me, diamond choker flashing as she leaned forward. “Ms. Pierce. Thank you for coming.”“Evelyn, please,” I said, voice smooth, cultured. “And thank you for the invitation. I’m always interested when powerful people want to rewrite the rules.”Marcus Hale next—mid-sixties, silver hair slicked back, bespoke sui

LOVIA’S POV The loft still hummed with the aftermath of our night—sweat-slicked sheets tangled on the bed, the faint scent of sex lingering in every corner like a secret we couldn’t erase. Shane dozed beside me, his arm thrown possessively over my waist, chest rising and falling in that steady rhythm that always grounded me after chaos. But peace was a lie in our world. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the unknown number flashing like a warning. I slipped out from under his arm, careful not to wake him, and padded to the bathroom, closing the door softly before answering.“Evelyn Pierce,” I said, my voice pitched higher, softer—the polished accent of the socialite disguise I’d worn to the gala. No one knew Lovia and Evelyn were one and the same. Not yet.A woman’s voice came through, husky and cautious, with a faint Eastern European lilt. “Ms. Pierce? This is Nadia. We met at the gala—briefly. You were... intriguing.”I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection: mussed

Kianna's PoV:The dorm room felt like a cage as I shut the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment to catch my breath.The string lights cast a soft, mocking glow over everything—the cluttered desk, Lesley's unmade bed and the half-eaten bag of chips from our last movie night. I peeled off my snow-damp coat and boots, the cold clinging to my skin like a bad dream I couldn't shake. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it for now. I needed a minute. Just one minute to process what Mordred had just told me.What type of Game is this man playing with us? It looks like we're just some play dolls or puppets and he's the master.Did I make a mistake by accepting his offer to help me? What if Mordred is right? He's just using us all.I sank onto my bed, knees drawn to my chest, and let the events replay in my mind. The black sedan. The red-dressed girl—still nameless, still enigmatic—leading me through that hidden marketplace like it was her personal kingdom. The stalls with

Mordred's PoV:The kiss lingered on my lips long after I'd dropped Kianna back at her dorm, the taste of her—sweet from the cotton candy, warm from the heat we'd built—clinging like a promise I wasn't sure I could keep. I'd held her against that cold metal wall in the changing area, her body arching into mine, her moans vibrating through me like they were my own heartbeat. Weeks of fighting, of silence, of watching her slip away to Maddox—it had all shattered in that moment. Reunion. Redemption. Whatever you wanted to call it, it felt like coming home.But as I rode back to the apartment through the snow-dusted streets, the high faded, replaced by a nagging itch in the back of my mind. Her words in the cafeteria earlier echoed: "Don’t worry about the bond. Everything will be alright." She'd said it with a smile, but her eyes had been distant and guarded. Like she was holding back a storm. Kianna wasn’t the type to brush off something like that—not with the deadline breathing down

Kianna's PoV:The snow had turned to slush by the time I trudged back to the dorm from the mysterious building, my boots squelching on the salted sidewalks. The city lights blurred through the falling flakes, but my mind was sharper than ever—racing, tumbling, questioning every step I'd just taken. I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets, the black card now crumpled in my fist like a talisman I wasn't sure brought luck or curse.What had I done? Joined hands with a stranger—a masked figure in a hidden community, surrounded by guards whose faces were concealed just like the stalker from the amusement park. The Boss's auto-tuned voice echoed in my head: "Do nothing. Let the day happen. The day will shock you." Shock me how? By stopping the bond? Severing it? Or something darker, something that would leave scars I couldn't see yet?I climbed the dorm stairs two at a time, the building quiet except for the distant thump of music from someone's room. Lesley was out—probably at a

Kianna's PoV:I stared at the calendar on my phone, the date glaring back at me like an accusation: It was 18th. Four days more to go. Just four days until the 22nd—until I turned nineteen and the fated-mate bond with Maddox locked into place like a cage door slamming shut. It had crept up so fast like a blink in the chaos of the past weeks. The circus lights, the amusement park rides, the chase that still haunted my dreams—it all blurred together, making time feel like it was slipping through my fingers.The dorm was quiet this afternoon, Lesley was out at her part-time job at the campus bookstore, leaving me alone with the hum of the heater and the faint patter of snow against the window. Winter had fully arrived, blanketing the world in white, but inside my chest, everything felt like a storm. I’d barely slept last night, tossing under the covers as images of the masked stalker from the park replayed: his relentless pursuit, the way he’d vanished into the crowd when we reached s

Maddox's PoV:I leaned against the cool metal of the lockers long after the hallway had emptied, arms folded tight across my chest, replaying the moment on a loop that felt almost too sweet to be real.Kianna walked into the cafeteria with Mordred.Not just walking, but her hand was lightly on his arm, guiding him like he was something fragile she was worried might break. Her voice was soft, concerned, asking if he’d eaten anything yet. Him looking like absolute hell—pale as paper, dark circles carved deep under his eyes, shoulders hunched like he’d carried the weight of the world all night and still letting her fuss over him.The Irony, he's always acting like a motherfucken baby In front of her, it's sick to watch.And me?I’d given them nothing more than a quick, casual smile. The kind you flash at someone you vaguely recognize from a class two years ago. Polite, distant and completely unbothered.I’d felt Mordred’s stare drill into my back the entire time I walked past their table

Kianna's PoV:I flopped back onto my bed in the dorm, the mattress creaking under me like it shared my exhaustion. The room was dimly lit by the string lights Lesley had strung up for "cozy vibes," casting a soft glow over the posters on the wall—band flyers, motivational quotes and a collage of photos from better days. My helmet hair was a mess, and my cheeks still stung from the cold wind of the ride home in Kristen's car. Mordred had followed with his bike to make sure I got back safe, waving from the parking lot before heading off. Tonight had been… magical, in a way I hadn’t expected. The circus stunts, the amusement park rides, the laughter that felt genuine for the first time in weeks. But now, alone in the quiet, the high was fading, and the shadows were creeping back in.I pulled off my boots and tossed them by the door, then sank against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. The chase at the park replayed in my mind like a bad movie on loop. That guy in the black hoodie