Novels by Ifeoma Onyema

Elena entered the penthouse at four in the morning and immediately saw Damien pacing the living room with his phone pressed to his ear. Anger clung to him like heat rolling off fire. When he noticed her, his expression shifted, relief flashing through the fury. He ended the call and told her Vincent’s men had hit the safe house with military precision, using information they should never have had. That meant there was still a leak inside their organization, someone feeding Vincent every move they made.Marco was awake despite the pain medication. He sat on the couch, pale but alert, his posture tight with focus. He said they had to assume Vincent knew everything now, including the documents Richard had handed over and the plan to form a coalition against him. Elena felt exhaustion pressing down on her, but she forced herself to stay present. If she fell apart now, Tony and the others would have died for nothing, and she refused to let that be the case.She told them about Tony’s death

They took Leonardo to a safe house on the edge of the city. It was a place Damien’s men controlled, somewhere they could keep Leonardo alive long enough to get everything he knew. During the drive, Elena couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said. Vincent Cross had planned everything. Her father’s murder. The attacks on her estate. Even her marriage to Damien. All of it traced back to one man she had met only once, at her own wedding. The thought that they had been following Vincent’s plan the entire time made her feel sick.Marco was hurt badly, but he refused to go to a hospital. He said hospitals meant questions, police reports, and attention they could not afford. Instead, they brought him back to the penthouse. Damien kept a private doctor on call, one who never asked questions. Elena stayed with Marco while the doctor worked on him. She kept apologizing for putting him in danger until Marco finally told her to stop. He reminded her that he had pledged loyalty to her father th

They had forty-five minutes to plan an operation that would either save Marco or get them all killed, and Elena spent the first five of those minutes forcing her hands to stay still while Damien coordinated with his men. He spoke rapid Italian with the cold precision he used when things turned serious, and Elena realized she was watching the version of him that had survived long enough to become an underboss despite growing up with a monster for a father.The plan came together faster than she expected. Damien positioned his best shooters on rooftops surrounding the abandoned factory, while other teams prepared to enter through side doors once Elena was inside. She would walk in through the front, just as the message demanded, and keep whoever was waiting there occupied long enough for the teams to move into position. When the signal came, Damien’s men would strike fast and hard, before anyone could hurt Marco or use him as leverage.Elena asked what happened if Marco had already been

The drive back to the penthouse passed in heavy silence. Damien sat beside her with his phone pressed to his ear, speaking in low, urgent Italian. Elena watched the city blur past the window, barely seeing it. Her mind stayed fixed on the meeting with Richard and the message that had followed so quickly. Someone had known about the meeting. Someone close enough to move fast. Close enough to warn them while they were still sitting in the coffee shop.The thought she didn’t want kept circling back. Damien could be the leak.She hated herself for thinking it, but she couldn’t push it away. He had known about the meeting. He had the most to lose if his father was exposed. It would be easy for him to play both sides while she trusted him blindly. Wanting to trust him did not mean it was smart. Survival demanded caution, even when it hurt.When they reached the penthouse, Damien went straight into his office to make more calls. Elena stayed behind, alone with the documents Richard had given

The coffee shop Richard chose sat near the courthouse, tucked between a law firm and a dry cleaner, and it was already crowded despite the early hour. Lawyers in pressed suits moved in and out with phones pressed to their ears, office workers lined up at the counter, and the air buzzed with low conversation and the constant hiss of the espresso machine. It was loud, busy, and ordinary in a way that felt almost unreal.Elena understood why he had chosen this place. No one would try anything violent here. Not in the middle of a weekday morning, not with so many witnesses. Safety, for now, came from being seen.Damien still insisted on arriving early. He always did. Fifteen minutes before the scheduled time, they walked in together, and Elena immediately noticed how his men filtered through the room without drawing attention. They took separate tables, some with newspapers, others with phones or laptops, all of them positioned to watch the doors and the windows. To anyone else, they look

Elena woke slowly, dragged out of sleep by sunlight pouring through tall windows she did not recognize at first. For a few disoriented seconds, she lay still and tried to make sense of where she was, why the sheets felt unfamiliar, and why her entire body ached as if she had been run over. Then memory slammed back into her all at once, sharp and merciless, and her stomach twisted as she remembered the warehouse, the gun in her hands, and the man who had fallen when she pulled the trigger.She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t help. The image was burned too deep. Two shots. Center mass. Exactly as she had been taught.When she finally opened her eyes again, Damien was already awake. He stood near the windows with his back to her, fully dressed, phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in low, urgent Italian. His posture was rigid, his voice controlled, and it was the same tone she had heard him use the night before when everything had gone to hell. Watching him like this made something