Novels by Emmanuel Ebipade

Lucian's PovThe house was way quiet when I walked in. Too quiet. My boots echoed across the marble floor. I looked down at my bloodstained shirt, and Mateo's word still lingered.I was rolling up my sleeves when I heard the low murmur of voices coming from the sitting room. My stepmother didn’t entertain guests at this hour unless it was something serious—or dangerous.I moved closer, walking silently. Her voice was calm, clipped. She stood backing me while talking to a man whose face was hidden beneath the shadows of his coat’s collar. "Have far have you gone? Rosaline, my stepmother asked. "Time is ticking, you do know that.""I—" He lifted his eyes, and looked in my direction. I tried to hide but it was of no use. He'd seen me anyways.Rosaline followed his eyes, and she turned. She frowned at me."You may leave." She said, and he slightly bowed before slipping out the back without a word.I didn’t follow.“Friend of yours?” I asked, walking in like I hadn’t just interrupted some

Chapter Four Jace's PovLucian never came back.One minute he was standing too close, saying too little, and looking at me like I was something he wanted to ruin with his hands.The next minute, he was gone after receiving the phone call.I went back to the dressing room, ignoring the curious stares from the others. The other dancers whispered to themselves, like I cared. Someone said they had heard gunshots from outside. Someone else said they had seen blood on the wall.I didn’t ask, cause didn’t need to. It was none of my business.By the time I got out, the night was dark and cold. I turned and saw him—Lucian—through the back alley gate. Just for a second.His shirt was torn, stained dark across the shoulder. He stood over two bodies—Vinco and Mateo, they were regulars at the club, I thought. His face was unreadable. Cold, tired and Empty.I turned away before he saw me watching.I didn’t want to know what version of himself he’d become tonight. I’d already seen too much.I sho

Lucian's POVThe club was alive again, buzzing with lights and noise like it had never slept. Same place, same beat—but tonight, I wasn’t only here for business, I had come for him."Mr Moreau." The club manager was already by my side before I even got a chance to sit. "You're here today?""Do you have a problem with that?" I shot him a glare, and he chuckled awkwardly."It isn't so Sir, I'm just glad that you're—" I lifted up my hand a way of telling him that I wasn't interested in his talks.“Clear the VIP,” I told the manager as I tilted my head to the side to have a look at him. “Now.”He didn’t argue. No one did, not with me. A few high rollers were escorted out, protesting until they saw my face. Then they quickly shut up, and went their wat. The name Moreau had that effect.I sank into the plush booth, far enough from the stage to watch without being seen. A wine glass in hand, jacket off, tension buried just under my skin.Then he came out—Jace, the man who'd tormented me in m

CHAPTER TWO: Ghosts in the SmokeJace's POVThe air in Barcelona hung heavy with humidity… and secrets.From the fire escape above Club Nirvana’s back alley, I rested on the rusted railing, a cigarette burning between my fingers. Below, Lucian was entering a black car. I didn’t move nor did i say a word, Just let the smoke slide past my lips, curling like ghosts toward the sky.My heart was beating too damn loud for someone who claimed to feel nothing at all.Lucian Moreau should’ve been just another face. Another name pinned to a board. A shadow in the rearview.But I could still feel the brush of his hand on my wrist, still taste the tension between us from the lounge—like it had branded itself into my skin.And I hated that. I hated him so much for what he'd done to my parents.My fingers found the lighter in my pocket, flicking it once… twice.“Not yet,” I muttered under my breath, eyes locked on the back as they disappeared into the city. “Not tonight.”But memory doesn’t care a

Jace's PovThe stage pulsed beneath my boots, the baseline thudding like a second heartbeat beneath my ribs as i dance.I didn’t look at the crowd, I didn’t have to cause I could feel their eyes glued to my skin like heat, hungry and desperate, the kind of stares that stripped you bare of your entire clothing before you even movedMy arm caught hold of the pole, and I climbed on it, giving the people a show well deserved The moment I turned, my eyes feel on him and I went stiff.He had just walked into Club Nirvana like a taboo dressed in a suit. Even in such a place like this—where cruel and dirty men wore diamonds, and others paid to forget who they were—he stood out. Dressed in black like he was headed to a funeral he planned to enjoy. Off course, he killed peopleHe didn't blink. Not once. And his eyes? They stayed locked on me.The moment he had stepped through the doors, my whole body reacted. My heart didn’t skip—it clenched like a fist.Lucian Moreau. The heir to the Moreau