Novels by Kosi Antonia

Aria’s POV:The rooftop terrace was a sanctuary of shadows, the city’s hum a distant roar below. The note from last night “You can’t hide forever” still burned in my mind, its words twisting with Mom’s face, her smile fading in that car accident I could never forget. Dad’s secrets, his control, it all pressed down, fueling the fire in my chest. I hobbled out here, my ankle throbbing but my defiance roaring louder, craving something, anything—to make me feel alive again. The hotel’s pool glinted under the moon, its water still and inviting, a promise of escape.Damien and Kade had followed me, their faces etched with worry after the flickering lights and that damn note. They’d checked the terrace, their protectiveness was a wall I both resented and craved. Damien’s gray eyes scanned the edges, his jaw tight, while Kade leaned against the railing, his tattoos dark in the low light, his hazel gaze on me like he knew I was about to break.“I’m swimming,” I said, my voice steady despite t

Aria’s POV:The hotel suite felt like a glass cage, the city lights mocking me through the floor-to-ceiling windows. My ankles still ached, but just a little. I guess it's healing now. I sat on the white leather couch, my fingers tracing the edge of a photo I’d found in my purse, it was a faded snapshot of Mom, her smile was warm, her eyes shined bright like mine. Elena Sinclair.She had been gone seven years ago, taken by a car accident I still didn’t understand. The memory hit me like a blade. I still remember the headlights, her scream, the hospital’s sterile chill, and the way I had cried that day. The day I lost my soul.I was fifteen, I was too young to lose her, and too angry to forgive Dad for shutting down after, his silence was louder than any explanation. I blamed him, not for the crash, maybe—but for the secrets, the way he buried her memory under his empire’s shadow.And the way he acted like none of it mattered. Like she was just a dream.Nate’s face from yesterday

Damien’s POV:She was going to be the death of me. Aria Sinclair was a blade, sharp and reckless, cutting through every wall I’d built. Her tearful apology last night, her trembling voice as she leaned into us, had cracked something in me I couldn’t repair. My duty to Alexander, watch her, report her moves, stay detached, was slipping, replaced by the memory of carrying her, her warmth against my chest, her green eyes raw with fear. Now, in the hotel suite’s sterile glow, the city lights bleeding through the windows, I watched her, restless on the couch, her sprained ankle propped like a taunt to her defiance. She was supposed to be resting, but Aria didn’t rest.I caught the creak of her door, my gut twisting as I moved to the hallway. She was slipping toward the elevator, her purse slung over her shoulder, hobbling on that damn ankle. Her black dress was gone, swapped for jeans and a hoodie, but she still looked like trouble, her eyes burning with that stubborn fire.“Aria,” I sa

Aria’s POV: The alley outside Vibe was a blur of shadows and city noise. My ankle was still pains, a sharp, insistent pain that had started as a twinge during the chaos of the kidnapping attempt but now felt more painful with every step. “We need to move,” Damien said, his voice was clipped, as he scanned the alley. “This place isn’t safe.” I tried to step forward, defiant as always, but my ankle twisted, I gasped as I grabbed the wall. Kade’s hand shot out, steadying my elbow. “Easy, princess. You’re not walking on that.” “I’m fine,” I snapped, but my voice trembled, the adrenaline from the attack crashing hard. The truth was, I wasn’t fine. I’d run from the safe house, kissed a stranger to drown out Ethan’s betrayal, and nearly gotten myself taken. And they’d saved me, Damien and Kade, the men I’d called my jailers, had torn through those thugs like they were nothing, risking themselves for me. Damien’s jaw tightened, and he gestured toward a black car parked nearby. “We’r

Aria’s POV: The safe house was a cage, and I was done being its prisoner. Nate’s voice from last night, “Nobody cages you”, looped in my head, it was like a siren call to freedom. I clutched the key fob I’d swiped from the garage, my heart was hammering as I waited in my room. The delivery van was due at dawn, it was the perfect distraction I’d overheard Kade mention. That was my shot. I slipped into a tight black dress, traded my sneakers for heels, and checked the camera blind spot by the garage one last time in my mind. It was reckless, stupid even, but I needed to feel alive again, to drown out Ethan’s betrayal and the memory of Damien and Kade’s shirtless bodies burning through me. The van’s rumble echoed outside, and I moved very silently and fast, slipping through the safe house’s halls. The garage smelled of oil and metal, and I held my breath as I slid into my car, the engine purring to life. The city’s neon lights called me, Vibe’s pulse was a promising escape. I shov

Aria’s POV:The safe house was suffocating me. I paced my room, the memory of Damien and Kade’s shirtless bodies still burning behind my eyes, their sweat-slick muscles and heated stares making my skin flush all over again. My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it, half-expecting another pathetic plea from Ethan. Instead, it was Nate, my best friend, the one person who’d always been my lifeline to the real world. "Call me, girl. Need to hear your voice". A smile tugged at my lips, the first real one in days. Nate and his endless gossip, his stupid jokes, he was the normal I craved. I hit call, sinking onto the bed.“Aria, you alive out there?” Nate’s voice was warm and teasing, like a shot of whiskey on a bad day. “Thought your dad’s goon squad might’ve locked you in a dungeon by now.”I laughed, the sound came out shaky but real. “Close enough. I’m in some high-tech fortress, Nate. It’s like living in a sci-fi movie, except the robots are hot and annoying.”“Hot, huh?” His grin was prac

Damian's footsteps echoed sharply against the polished hospital floor as he entered through the glass doors. The antiseptic smell hit him immediately, sharp and clinical. The lobby was busy with people moving in different directions—nurses pushing wheelchairs, doctors walking briskly with clipboards, visitors sitting anxiously in waiting areas.He barely noticed any of it.His eyes scanned the space quickly until he spotted the information desk. A young woman in a crisp blue uniform sat behind it, typing on a computer."Excuse me," Damian said, his voice tight. "Lord Blackwood. Where is he?"The woman looked up, startled by his intensity. She typed quickly on her keyboard. "ICU, third floor. Take the elevator on your right."Damian didn't wait for more directions. He turned sharply and headed toward the elevators. His shoes clicked rapidly against the floor. When he reached the elevator, he jabbed the button repeatedly, his jaw clenched with impatience.The doors finally opened with a

Back at the Blackwood mansion, Damian stood in the kitchen preparing a light snack for Lira. The morning sun poured through the large windows, filling the room with warmth. He arranged sliced fruit on a plate with careful precision, adding a small bowl of yogurt on the side.His phone sat on the counter beside him, face up. He glanced at it occasionally while he worked, but his mind was focused entirely on Lira and the baby.Everything else could wait.He picked up the tray and began walking toward the stairs when his phone suddenly rang. The sound cut through the peaceful silence like a knife.He stopped and looked back. The screen displayed "Mother" in bold letters.His brow furrowed slightly. His mother rarely called him directly. She usually sent messages or had staff relay information. A phone call meant something important. Or urgent.He set the tray down on the counter and grabbed his phone, swiping to answer."Mother?""Damian." Her voice came through broken and shaking. He co

The morning sun rose over the Lord Blackwood estate, casting long shadows across the manicured gardens. The mansion stood tall and imposing, its white walls gleaming under the early light. Everything looked peaceful. Orderly. As it always did.Inside, Lord Blackwood's bedroom was quiet. The heavy curtains were still drawn, blocking most of the sunlight. A faint golden glow seeped through the edges, just enough to illuminate the large four-poster bed where Lord Blackwood lay.He had been awake for over an hour, but he hadn't moved. His body felt heavy and weak. The pain in his stomach had been growing worse each day, but this morning it felt different, sharper, and more insistent.He tried to sit up, but his arms trembled with the effort. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air conditioning. His breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps.Something was wrong.Very wrong.He reached for the small bottle of medication on his nightstand. The pills the doctor had prescribed. The one

The evening had settled over the city like a thick blanket. Inside Bernard's school auditorium, rows of folding chairs were filled with parents, grandparents, and excited children waiting for the annual school play to begin.The stage was decorated with painted cardboard castles and paper trees. Colorful lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over everything. The air smelled faintly of popcorn from the concession stand in the lobby and the nervous energy of children about to perform.Barrister Harrington sat in the third row beside his wife. Mrs. Harrington held the program in her hands, reading through the list of performers with a proud smile. She was dressed elegantly in a navy blue dress, her hair styled beautifully. She looked happy. Excited.The barrister, on the other hand, looked like a man attending his own funeral.His suit was wrinkled despite his wife ironing it that morning. His tie sat crooked. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his jaw was tight with tensi

The afternoon sun poured through the tall windows of Serena's bedroom, casting golden light across the cream-colored walls. She sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection in the large mirror. Her makeup was flawless, her hair styled perfectly, but her eyes held something dark. Something restless.Her phone lay on the vanity table beside her expensive perfume bottles and jewelry boxes. She had been checking it every few minutes for the past hour. Waiting and hoping for a message, a call. Anything.Nothing came.She picked up the phone again and scrolled through her messages. The last one she had sent to the barrister was still there, unread. Or at least, he hadn't responded. That was two days ago now. Two days of silence.Her jaw clenched."What is taking so long?" she muttered to herself angrily.She had given him those photographs as clear proof that she knew everything about his family, where they went, what they did, and how vulnerable they were. Any reasonable person would have

The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Barrister Harrington's study. The room looked nothing like it usually did. Papers were scattered across the mahogany desk. An empty whiskey bottle lay on its side near the edge. The leather chair was pushed back at an odd angle, as if someone had stood up in a hurry and never bothered to fix it.Barrister Harrington sat slumped in that same chair now, his tie loosened and his shirt wrinkled. His eyes were red and swollen from lack of sleep. Dark circles hung beneath them like shadows. His hair, usually combed perfectly, stuck up in several directions.He hadn't slept at all.Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those photographs. Bernard at school. His wife at the grocery store. Their house at night. Someone had been watching them. Following them. Studying their every move.And he knew exactly who was behind it.Serena.He stared at the photographs spread across his desk. Each one felt like a knife to his chest. His hands tremb