Novels by Sandra Vera

Kael’s phone buzzed quietly. Aaron’s voice came through, clipped, controlled. “I checked her apartment.”Kael didn’t react immediately. He stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at the city lights. “Give me the details.”Aaron inhaled. “At first glance… it looked normal. Clean. Organized. Like someone just stepped out, leaving everything in its place. Nothing unusual.”Kael, leaning against the far wall, frowned. “So what made you call me?”Aaron’s voice lowered. “Then I noticed the bullet hole.”Kael’s eyes flicked to the screen of his phone. “Go on.”Aaron continued, calm but tense. “Small, precise. It leads down to the back staircase. There’s debris… papers, broken glass, a tipped-over chair. Whoever did this… they didn’t just take her—they made sure she left a trace. Or someone else did. That part’s unclear.”Luca shook his head. “Messy for someone who’s supposed to be organized.”“Exactly,” Aaron said. “And here’s the thing… it doesn’t line up with normal gang behavior

The room was quiet in the way only powerful men allowed it to be.One man knelt on the concrete floor, blood pooling beneath his hands, breath ragged, eyes wide with regret that had come far too late. Kael stood in front of him, jacket off, sleeves rolled, expression unreadable. No anger. No satisfaction. Just assessment.“You were given one instruction,” Kael said calmly. “One.”The man shook his head violently. “I—I didn’t know it would cross—”Kael lifted a finger.Silence returned instantly.Behind him, Aaron leaned against the wall, arms folded, jaw tight. Two of Kael’s most trusted men—Marco and Luca—stood watch, faces cold, detached. This wasn’t new. This was routine.Kael stepped forward and ended him without drama.When he was done, he turned away as if nothing significant had happened. Marco signaled for the body to be removed.“Clean it,” Kael said. “Quietly.”They moved fast.Kael reached for the glass of water on the table, took a sip, then paused. Something… tugged. Not

Vera and Lina barely stirred in the dim corner of the cold room, the smell of blood and sweat hanging thick in the air. Pain still throbbed through Vera’s body, every bruise a reminder of last night’s terror, yet exhaustion weighed heavier than agony. Lina’s shallow breaths were the only sound, until a sudden splash of scalding water slammed into their faces.“Wake up,” a voice barked. Vera hissed, flinching, water dripping from her hair. “Not cold. Hot. You’ll feel every second.”Vera’s eyes shot open. Lina shrieked, clutching her side, trembling. Vera yanked herself upright, muscles stiff, but her mind, razor-sharp, clicked into focus. They weren’t just torturing them—they were testing, provoking.“Move,” one captor growled, shoving Lina roughly. “No more hiding. No more whispers.”Vera lifted her chin, her voice low but steady, “I know you think this breaks us. You’re wrong.”The men froze. One of them, a younger thug, spat, “What the hell did she just say?”“You heard me,” Vera s

Vera woke up to pain before she woke up to light.Her wrists burned. Not rope—something thinner, tighter. It bit into skin with every small movement, deliberate, engineered. Her ankles were the same. Suspended just enough that her toes brushed the floor but never rested. Enough to remind her she was not meant to be comfortable.Her head throbbed. Her mouth was dry.She tried to move. The bindings answered for her—sharp, exact. She sucked in a breath and forced herself still.The air felt wrong. Too still. Like it was waiting.“Lina,” she said. Her voice came out rough. “Lina.”A chair scraped somewhere behind her.“Hello Vera,” a man said calmly.The calm scared her more than shouting ever could.Vera lifted her head. The room was bare. Concrete walls. One light above her, too bright, humming faintly. The man stood where the light didn’t quite reach him. Hands clasped. Patient.“Where is she?” Vera asked.He smiled—not wide. Not cruel. Controlled. “Not dead yet.”The word yet lodged i

The room smelled of dust and faint coffee. Vera’s hands shook as she adjusted her shoes. Lina was already moving, calm but precise, scanning exits, counting silently. Always counting.“Ready?” Vera whispered, voice tight.“Always,” Lina replied, eyes sharp, unwavering.They stepped into the hallway. Shadows clung to corners. Every footstep echoed. First turn. Second turn.Third turn.A sudden metallic bang rang out. Vera’s heart leapt. Lina shoved her down.“Down!”The ringing in their ears made her stomach twist. But they didn’t stop. “Run!” Lina hissed.They bolted down the stairs. Bullets screamed above them, ricocheting off walls. Splinters flew. Smoke stung their eyes and throat. The stairwell was chaos incarnate.A man blocked the landing. Mid-step, he aimed. Lina slammed her elbow into his chest, sending him crashing back. Vera swung her bag, hitting another attacker’s shoulder. Pain shot up her arm, but she didn’t hesitate.“Faster!” Lina shouted.Bang! A bullet ricocheted

Vera typed the message twice before sending it.One wrong word could ruin everything.Midnight. Cafe. Be there.She deleted the thread immediately, slid the phone back into her pocket, and stared at the wall until her pulse slowed. Her ribs still hurt when she breathed too deeply. She ignored it. Pain was manageable. What followed pain was not.The café they chose was small and almost forgotten, tucked between a closed bookstore and a laundromat that never seemed open. The lights inside were dim, yellow, safe-looking. Lies always looked safe at first.She arrived early. Sat where she could see the door. Her back to the wall. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, so she curled them into fists and pressed them against her thighs until her nails bit into skin.She counted exits. One door. A narrow hallway that might lead to a back exit—or a dead end. The windows were too clear. Too exposed.Midnight passed.Then the door opened.Vera’s breath caught so hard it hurt.“Vera…”The voice alone al