Novels by Mayy

The call came just after 2 a.m.Ryan had barely slept. He stood by the tall windows of his penthouse, watching the dark city hum in silence. Sophie was upstairs. He’d insisted she rest.. insisted on having eyes on every hallway, every camera, every inch of the building. Still, he couldn’t shake the weight sitting on his chest.His phone buzzed on the table. He didn’t recognize the number, but something about the area code stopped him cold.He answered on the third ring.“DeMarco.”The voice on the other end was rough, dry. “It’s been a long time.”Ryan didn’t move. “Who is this?”“Used to work with your father,” the voice said. “Which means I know the difference between how he handled problems... and how you do.”Ryan’s hand curled into a fist.“You know why I’m calling,” the voice said.There was no reason to pretend. “Bruce sent you.”“No,” the voice replied. “Selena did. Bruce just wants results. She’s the one pulling strings.”Ryan’s jaw locked. “You came here to warn me?”“I came

The fire in Bruce Hendricks’ study was down to a low burn, orange embers pulsing inside the stone hearth. The rain had stopped, but the windows were still streaked with water. The air in the room felt thick, like something important had been said.. or was about to be.Bruce sat in his usual leather chair, a glass of something dark and expensive in one hand. The other hand tapped restlessly against the armrest. He hadn’t spoken in several minutes.Across from him, Selena poured herself a drink.She moved slowly, deliberately. Her robe was silk, dark blue, tied just loose enough to suggest she hadn’t dressed to talk business.But business was exactly what she intended.She brought her glass to the edge of the desk but didn’t sit. Instead, she stood near Bruce, sipping her drink with one hand and brushing her hair over her shoulder with the other.“She’s playing you, Bruce,” Selena said.He didn’t answer.She tilted her head, studying him.“Just like she played everyone else.”He stared

The door slammed hard enough to rattle the glass in the windows.Sophie jumped, her hand tightening around the edge of the blanket draped across her legs. She was curled up on Ryan’s wide couch, still in the oversized sweater Isla had brought her after the warehouse.She looked up just in time to see Ryan storm in.His jaw was locked. His coat still on. Blood dried near his collar from the reopened wound he hadn’t let anyone touch.“You have a death wish?” he growled, voice sharp and echoing in the vast, glass-walled room. “Because that’s the only explanation I can think of.”Sophie stood slowly. “Ryan.. ”“You shouldn’t have been there.”He pointed at her like the words were a sentence.“You weren’t supposed to follow me. You weren’t supposed to step into that warehouse. And you sure as hell weren’t supposed to get in the line of fire.. again.”She folded her arms. “And if I hadn’t come?”“I would’ve handled it.”“You’d be dead.”He stopped.She stepped forward. “You were outnumbered

The study at Bruce Hendricks’ private estate was dimly lit, the glow of a single lamp throwing soft amber light over the oak desk. A fire crackled low in the hearth, untouched. Rain tapped against the tall windows behind him, steady and cold.Bruce sat in a leather chair, papers untouched on the desk before him. His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, and a half-empty tumbler of bourbon sat beside his untouched phone. His tie hung loose around his collar.He stared into the flames, jaw tight.The silence didn’t last.The door creaked open.Roth, his security chief, entered and crossed the room with quiet steps, holding a phone in one hand, a folder in the other.Bruce looked up. One glance at Roth’s face told him everything.“Say it.”Roth hesitated. “We confirmed it. Alexander’s dead.”Bruce didn’t move.“Single shot to the chest. Sophie and DeMarco were both seen on-site. The last camera caught her leaving with him.”Still nothing.Roth placed the folder on the desk, hesitating. “We…

The steady tick of a clock filled Bruce’s office, soft and precise.He didn’t notice it.His focus was on the printed contracts spread across his desk, a pen in one hand, a pair of reading glasses in the other. He wasn’t wearing the glasses. He was tapping them against his knee absently, reading a clause for the third time and still not absorbing the words.A coffee cup sat half full to his right, untouched for nearly an hour.His office was quiet, almost too quiet. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the pale light of late morning, casting long stripes across the polished wood. A stack of acquisition files waited beside a glowing monitor. One deal was closing in Rome, another in Dubai. Two more needed signatures before end-of-day.He should’ve been reviewing numbers. Refining strategies. Watching markets.Instead, he was pacing.He hated how often his thoughts strayed now.. away from spreadsheets and into memory. Sophie’s face in that photo. The way she looked at DeMarco. Her posture

The warehouse was quiet when Ryan stepped inside.Too quiet.His boots echoed across the cracked concrete as he moved, gun holstered but ready. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his spine, the way his breath slowed without him thinking, the way his fingers hovered closer to the grip.The air stank of oil, rust, and cold metal. Dust floated lazily in slats of low light from the shattered windows above. He’d been in places like this before. The setup was always the same: too many exits, too few places to hide, and just enough silence to make someone doubt their instincts.But Ryan didn’t doubt anymore.He stopped in the middle of the floor, scanning.It was supposed to be a lead.. a broker feeding intel about one of Bruce’s off-shore accounts. James had flagged it as suspicious, but Ryan didn’t wait. The location came through Alexander’s old channels, which told him everything he needed to know.He wasn’t here for intel.He was here for the end of something.Then.. A click.Meta