Novels by Sienna Harris

Harper's windscreen was battered by sheets of rain as she drove through the city. Gold and shadow streaks painted the road as streetlights flickered dimly through the storm. The world was blurred by the frenzied cadence of her wipers.Every sound, the rumbling of thunder, the screech of tires, pressed on her nerves.The café Caleb had chosen sat at the edge of an industrial block, half-swallowed by fog. Its flickering neon sign hummed weakly, the kind of place where no one asked questions. Harper hesitated before stepping out, hearing of Caleb kidnapping Eli placed doubts in her mind. Her umbrella trembled in her hand. She wore a dark coat that clung to her soaked dress, hair plastered to her face. Inside, the air smelled of burnt coffee and damp wood.Caleb sat at the far corner, immaculate in his black suit, a faint smile curling his lips. His eyes, sharp and calm, followed her every move. The soft lamplight cast shadows across his angular face, handsome, but wrong in a way t

Dominic stood at the head of the long table, tall, impeccably dressed in black, his expression cold enough to slice through the tension hanging thick in the air. His men filled the room, hulking figures, silent and waiting. Every breath seemed to bow to him.“Tonight,” Dominic said, with a steady voice, almost too calm, “no hesitation.”Noah watched from the back, pulse tapping in his throat. Maps were spread out before them, red circles bleeding across the city grid. Every street marked was another piece of Caleb’s empire ready to crumble. Phones buzzed as orders spread. Dominic’s words cut sharp and direct, names, targets, timing. He spoke like a man born for war, each command delivered without emotion.When the last man left, silence collapsed between them. Only the hum of the city below filled the space. Noah’s reflection hovered beside Dominic’s in the window, one man holding fire in his chest, the other trying not to get burned.“You don’t have to do this alone,” Noah murmure

With a faint hiss, the lift doors slid open. Silence and smoke filled the air as Dominic was the first to leave. The penthouse, which represented his authority, was completely destroyed. Broken glass crunched under his feet. The destroyed room was filled with the subtle smell of smoke, and burned wiring curled from the walls. All traces of grace had been removed. Through windows coated with soot, the city lights flickered, cold and broken.Noah followed, eyes caught somewhere between disbelief and dread. The once spotless living room lay in pieces, couch overturned, a painting slashed, the marble floor spattered with ash. The disabled alarm light blinked a dull red, pulsing like a dying heartbeat. Dominic moved forward, his jaw set tight, his shoulders tense beneath his soaked shirt. He said nothing, only scanned the room like a predator assessing the damage to its den.“Dominic…” Noah’s voice was barely a whisper. “What happened here?”Dominic didn’t answer. He bent down, pi

The clock on the wall blinked 4:03 a.m. when the elevator doors slid open. Dominic stepped out, drenched in rain and silence. His coat clung to his shoulders, heavy with exhaustion, droplets trailing down his jaw. The penthouse was dark except for the amber glow of the city through glass. Noah stirred awake, hearing the faint creak of leather shoes on marble.“Where were you?” his voice cracked the quiet, soft but edged with worry.Dominic didn’t answer. He stood at the doorway like a ghost unsure of where to haunt. His eyes once sharp, commanding, looked drained, rimmed with sleeplessness.“You didn’t come home last night,” Noah pressed, moving closer.Dominic’s voice came out low, gravelly. “I had things to fix.”“You look like something broke instead.”The faintest smirk tugged at Dominic’s lips, a gesture more habit than humor. He turned his back, staring out at the skyline. “Get dressed,” he said, tone clipped, unreadable.“For what?”“Just do it, Noah.”The way he said his name

The skyline bled amber light into Dominic’s office, the city stretching beneath him like a beast waiting to devour. Mason leaned against the glass desk, his tie loose, a cigarette dangling unlit from his lips. The detective had the kind of face that looked carved from corruption, creases deepened by smoke and bad choices.“Thought you’d want a heads-up,” Mason said, sliding a flash drive across the polished surface. “You didn’t hear it from me, but the Bureau’s got your name on a murder.”Dominic’s jaw flexed. “You think I’d be sitting here if that were true?”Mason chuckled, tapping ash from a cigarette he hadn’t lit. “Evidence says otherwise. Bloodied gloves, a gun, a nice, clean fingerprint. Yours.”“Impossible,” Dominic said flatly, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.Mason shrugged. “They’ve got footage too. Warehouse alley, victim’s blood still warm.” He dropped a photo onto the desk, an image marked with an FBI watermark. Dominic’s fingerprint circled in red.The air t

Riley’s downtown loft was alive with noise and color. The walls, once white, had been claimed by canvases and splashes of paint, sunlight cutting through tall windows in streaks of gold. Music drifted from a corner speaker, something soft and rhythmic, almost careless.Noah lingered by the doorway, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “Are you sure I’m not crashing something?”Riley turned, her messy bun tilted slightly, streaks of blue paint on her cheek like war marks. “You? Please. You’re my excuse to open the good wine.”Her laugh broke through his hesitation. He stepped in, the smell of coffee, paint, and laughter wrapping around him. A group of people, artists, dreamers, and friends looked up from their half-finished projects.“This is Noah,” Riley announced. “He’s the one I told you about. The one with the quiet eyes.”Someone grinned. “The one who doesn’t talk much? We’ll fix that.”They made room for him, pulling him into conversation, handing him a drink, teasing him u

The office is colder than usual. My fingers nervously tap against my phone as I stand in front of the slick desk. I don't like to acknowledge it, but the message in my email is bothering me. I look up and see Pierce leaning back in his chair with a smug smile on his face. He continues, "You have to hear this, Jackson," and slides a folder my way. "The chance of a lifetime." I grab the folder and feel the jagged edges digging into my palm. The name on the cover, Stone & Black Enterprises, makes my stomach drop. I know who they are and what they want. I don't even have to open it. "Let me guess," I say in a low voice. "You are giving me a way to get rid of Charles." Pierce laughs gently. "I can help you acquire what you want: money, power, and the chance to get back at him. Jackson, you know how this game works. "We've lived in this world long enough." My heart is racing. The words are too seductive. All the things I've been battling for and all the worries I have about Charles loo

The study is dark, and the air is thick with tension as I sit across from Charles. The things he hasn't addressed and the weight of his past are still between us. He stares out the window with his jaw clinched, as if he's holding something back. "You don't have to do this," I say in a voice that's just above a whisper. "I can’t keep fighting without knowing the truth."Charles turns, his eyes dark but soft in a way I’ve never seen before. “You think you know everything, Jackson. You think I’ve been some kind of monster, hiding from my past. But you wouldn't understand.”He stands up swiftly, his fists clenching at his sides. "My father... he’s never been the father you think he is. He made me this way."I stand too, not sure where this conversation is going. “What do you mean? What happened?”He looks at me then, his gaze piercing. “When I was younger, I was more than just his heir. I was his tool, his weapon to build an empire. He controlled everything—my thoughts, my actions. I

I look around the crowded gala, where people are talking and drinks are clinking. People are laughing, mingling, and doing their best to act like everything is fine, but I can feel the tension swirling inside me. I know she’s here. I can sense it.And then I see her. Victoria. Her black clothing fits her like a second skin, and her cold smile makes me shiver. She is observing me from across the room, her eyes locked on me like a predator on its prey.“You knew she’d show up,” Charles murmurs beside me, his voice tight with controlled tension. “Are you ready for this?”I try to swallow the lump in my throat but fail. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”Before I can take another step, Victoria makes her move. She’s beside me in an instant, her heels clicking on the marble floor, her perfume overwhelming. Her presence is magnetic, dangerous.“Jackson,” she says, her voice like silk, but there’s a cold edge to it. “I hope you’re not still hiding behind your little secrets.” She gestures to the

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, the room spinning around me. My phone buzzes again, but I don’t pick it up. Victoria’s words still echo in my head. “You’re too blind to see the truth.”I try to push her out of my thoughts, but she keeps coming back. The past few days, everything with Charles feels... off. The way he avoids some queries and the times when his eyes sparkle with something that can't be read. I'm in a bind. I could face him, but what if I'm wrong? What if I’ve just let Victoria’s poisonous words cloud my judgment? Then again, if I don’t ask, I might never know.A knock on the door breaks my reverie. I don’t even need to look to know it’s him. Charles’s presence has a way of filling a room, even when he's quiet.“Jackson,” his voice is soft but firm. “We need to talk.”I take a deep breath before I open the door. There he is—tall, imposing. His sharp jawline is shadowed with stubble, his eyes intense, watching me. He stands in the doorway like he owns it.“About what

I lean against the window and clutch the cool glass with my hand as I look out at the city below. The streets are busy, and the world goes on as if nothing has happened. But I feel like everything is out of whack. I can tell who is calling without even looking at my phone. Victoria.I can practically hear her voice in my brain, oozing with that same planned charm, assuring me that if I stay with Charles, my life won't be mine anymore. She had remarked, "You won't even know who you are anymore, Jackson." "But then again, you never really did."Her comments get to me in a manner that makes my heart race for all the wrong reasons. I can't get rid of the picture of her smirk, how she knows how to get to me, and how she spins her web around me, tightening it every day. She is more than just a woman to be afraid of; she is a danger.But then there's Charles. Charles, God. Every moment with him feels like I'm going into a world I don't understand, but I feel more alive than I've ever been. H

Jackson strolled into Charles's office, thinking it would be another boring day of work. But as soon as he walked in, the mood in the room changed. Charles was standing by the big window with his back to the city and looking out. The normally cold, calculating mood was gone. He seemed far away and weak, in a way that Jackson had never seen before. There had been silent but evident tension between them for weeks. Jackson tried to dismiss it, but it was impossible when every look and touch between them felt like it meant more than it should. He knew he wasn't dreaming it, and the knot in his stomach got tighter as he stood there and watched Charles from behind. "Charles?" Jackson murmured softly, his voice shaky, not knowing if he was interrupting anything private. Jackson thought for a second that Charles might not have heard him because he didn't answer right away. But then Charles gently turned around, and when their eyes met, Jackson's pulse skipped a beat. For a short time, nei