Novels by Nana A

The sun rose blood-orange over Istanbul as the Falcone compound transformed from a sanctuary into a fortress. In the command center, blueprints and digital schematics flickered across the walls. The target: a covert Consortium outpost buried beneath an estate in northern Italy—camouflaged as an abandoned vineyard. “This isn’t just another strike,” Camilla said, pacing in front of the strategy table. “This is a statement. They watched my son. My daughter. They crossed the last line.” Marco stood beside her, fully armed. “We’ve run every recon angle. Heat signatures confirm twenty to twenty-five active personnel underground. Biometric sensors. Auto-defense systems. But there’s a window. A two-minute gap when their satellite relays shift to update.” “That’s when we go in,” Riccardo added. “We breach. Extract the director. Pull intel from the mainframe.” “And erase every trace of them from that land,” Camilla finished coldly. Isadora’s voice cut through the tense silence. “There’s a

The air inside the converted warehouse was thick with tension as Camilla stepped into the center of the command hub. Screens blinked to life along the walls, each displaying real-time feeds of everything from global stock fluctuations to satellite surveillance. This wasn’t just another meeting. This was the launch. “We’re live,” Isadora announced, her fingers gliding across the glass console. “Our worm is in their system. They’ll trace it—because they’re meant to.” Marco stood by the weapons crate, loading a pistol with calm precision. “What happens when they realize we’re feeding them lies?” “We’re already ten moves ahead,” Camilla replied, her tone cool but razor-sharp. “By the time they find the leak, we’ll have their core access routes mapped.” Riccardo stepped beside her, his gaze scanning the data. “Three cities light up next. Amsterdam, Tel Aviv, and Dubai. Their relay networks are shifting resources. Someone’s nervous.” “Good,” Camilla said. “Let’s make them terrified.”

The jet engines hummed softly above the clouds as Camilla sat in the rear cabin, staring at the mark Isadora had recreated from the fallen assassin’s neck. Three intersecting circles. A symbol that looked harmless, almost elegant—until you understood what it stood for. “They don’t want territory,” Riccardo murmured from the seat beside her. “They want infrastructure. Influence.” Camilla nodded. “Power without borders.” “They’ve been moving for years,” Isadora added, tapping through encrypted files on her tablet. “Mergers. Data consolidations. Private armies disguised as security firms. Every conflict we thought was isolated was part of a test. And we just proved we’re a threat.” “By surviving Seraphine’s gauntlet?” Camilla asked bitterly. “No,” Isadora said. “By refusing to join them.” Marco joined them from the cockpit. “We’re landing in Istanbul. Neutral ground. Seraphine arranged a contact.” Camilla’s expression hardened. “We’re not playing defense. If the Consortium think

The Balkan air was sharp—mountain-kissed and laced with tension. Camilla stood on the edge of a crumbling overlook, the cold wind tugging at her coat as she surveyed the valley below. Dense pine forests blanketed the terrain, broken only by narrow dirt roads and the occasional glint of old metal—decommissioned outposts, long forgotten by governments but never by ghosts. Isadora approached, boots crunching softly over the frost-covered gravel. “We’ve narrowed it to three possible sites. All abandoned military compounds. All scrubbed from public records.” “Which one do you believe she’s in?” Camilla asked. Isadora hesitated. “The one no one will go near. Locals call it ‘Crna Ruža’—the Black Rose.” Camilla’s lips tightened. “Then that’s where we begin.” The convoy moved at dusk—two armored SUVs and a tactical van. Marco led the perimeter unit while Riccardo remained at Camilla’s side, silent and watchful. As the road narrowed into a snake-like path through the trees, comms grew cr

The silence in the cathedral didn’t last. As Blackwell was dragged away, the cold echo of boots on marble replaced the solemn quiet. Riccardo issued a series of terse commands to the guards, his voice clipped with restraint. Marco followed closely, his pistol still drawn in case Blackwell tried one last desperate stunt. Camilla stood unmoving in the center of the cathedral, staring at the spot where Blackwell had fallen. It should have felt like triumph. Instead, it felt like a funeral. Not for Blackwell—he wasn’t worth mourning. But for the pieces of herself she’d buried to get here. The woman she once was, the one who thought justice and revenge were the same thing. That Camilla no longer existed. “I want him in the black site within the hour,” she said finally, her voice steady. “No contact with outside operatives. No comms. Nothing.” Riccardo looked over. “You want to interrogate him?” “No,” she said quietly. “I want to break him.” They flew him out in a cargo jet disguis

Geneva smoldered behind them, smoke curling into the morning sky like the breath of a dragon finally exhaling after centuries of war. But Camilla couldn’t revel in the victory, not yet. Blackwell was still out there—slippery, protected, and worst of all, patient. As the convoy rolled toward their temporary safe house tucked away in the Alps, Camilla sat in the backseat of the lead SUV, staring at the cold mountains ahead. Marco drove with one hand on the wheel, the other gripping a satellite phone. “Interference is heavy. Blackwell must’ve jammed comms on his way out.” “He planned for this,” Camilla said quietly. “He knew the Council was collapsing.” “Then he’s already making moves to rebuild.” Her eyes narrowed. “Not if I get to him first.” Behind them, Isadora followed in the second vehicle, coordinating data transfers from the server files. Everything they pulled from the vault was already being decrypted—secret account numbers, encrypted messages, names of shell corporations

Damon stood at the mouth of the pass, his silver-black cloak whipping in the wind. His eyes glowed with that strange, unnatural light—a molten mix of gold and crimson. Power radiated from him, thick and suffocating, making even the Shadow Pack hesitate on the ridge. “Enough,” he repeated, his voice echoing across the stones like thunder. The wolves froze, snarls dying on their lips. Their heads lowered, ears flattened, as if forced to obey by sheer will. I grabbed Kael’s arm, pulling him closer. “What is this? Damon doesn’t command them—not like this.” Kael’s gaze was locked on Damon, his chest heaving with exhaustion. “That’s not Damon anymore… or at least, not the Damon we knew.” Damon’s smile widened, slow and cold. He took a step closer, his boots crunching on the gravel. “Elara. Kael. I told you I would find you. Did you think you could outrun fate?” “Fate?” I spat. “Is that what you call this? The slaughter, the ruin, the shadow wolves tearing through the land?” He spread

The figure of light stood between us and the creature, a blazing shield against the darkness. The ground trembled beneath its weight, the air crackled with pure energy, and even the shadows that clung to the creature shrank back as if scorched by the very presence of this being. I stared, breathless, clutching Kael’s limp form against me. The fire that had threatened to devour us just moments before recoiled like a tide pulled back by the moon itself. “Who—what are you?” I gasped, my voice hoarse from the raw magic that had burned through me. The figure didn’t turn fully, but I felt its gaze—warm, steady, ancient. A voice answered, low and thunderous. “I am the wolf who guards the Luna line. The first of the blessed. The last of the Starborn. I have waited for this night, Elara.” The creature let out a snarl that echoed across the mountains. “No! You were banished to the void—you cannot stand here!” But the Starborn wolf only lifted its hand, and silver chains formed from starlig

The ground cracked beneath my feet as the creature’s shadows swarmed the clearing. Shapes flickered through the mist—wolves made of smoke, spirits with hollow eyes, beasts I had no name for. And all of them were coming for me. For us. Kael lay barely breathing at my side. His blood soaked the ground, and the silver dart still poisoned his veins. I could feel his wolf, still fighting—but fading. Fading too fast. I had to move. I had to fight. But the creature’s voice coiled through the night, dark and cold. “You are mine, Luna Star. Surrender now, and I may let him live.” “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, you don’t get to take him. Or me.” The creature laughed—a sound like bones snapping, like the world cracking apart. “You think you have a choice? Look around you.” The army closed in, their growls and snarls filling the air. The Blood Moon cast everything in red, like the whole world was bleeding. I gritted my teeth and stood, summoning what magic I had left. My silver

The blade glinted black as Damon’s hand arced toward me, faster than thought, faster than breath. His snarl echoed through the clearing—feral, unhinged, the sound of a wolf who’d lost his soul. I can’t die here. My magic exploded before his blade could find my heart. A shockwave of silver light slammed into him, throwing him backward. He hit a tree so hard the trunk cracked, bark splintering like bone. The dagger flew from his grip, landing in the dirt at my feet. I stared at it—at the jagged edge, still humming with dark energy. The thing that was meant to end me. But it hadn’t. Not yet. “Elara!” Kael’s voice tore through the chaos, ragged with pain but alive. Alive. I turned, my heart surging at the sight of him. Blood dripped from the silver dart that had pierced his side, but he was on his feet, unbroken. His wolf burned in his eyes—wild, protective, mine. “Behind you!” he shouted. I spun again just in time to see Damon charging. But this wasn’t Damon anymore—not really.

The darkness swallowed me whole. For a heartbeat, maybe two, there was nothing—no ground beneath my feet, no air in my lungs, no sound but the echo of my own heartbeat, wild and frantic. Then, like a flame sparking to life in endless night, I felt it—the thread. The bond. Kael. His presence, weak but steady, called me back. I gasped, light exploding around me as my power surged outward, tearing through the void. I wasn’t gone. Not yet. When the world came rushing back, I was no longer in the clearing. No blood moon overhead. No wolves. No Damon. Just me. And it. The creature from the pit stood before me, its wings unfurled, its gaze heavy as chains. “Why am I here?” My voice shook, but I held my ground. My magic simmered under my skin, but I knew better than to strike. Not yet. “You stand at a crossroads, Luna Star,” it said, its voice like a storm rolling over dead lands. “Damon’s debt is mine. But so is yours.” “I owe you nothing.” Its laugh was low, cruel. “You wear th

The walls of my cell hummed. I felt it before I saw it—the shift in the night, the way the air thickened, heavy with magic. The Blood Moon was hours away. And something told me this one wouldn’t just pass like any other. This time, it was coming for me. I paced, the chain on my ankle clinking against the stone. My mind raced. Kael was out there—I knew it in my bones—but Damon’s words kept me locked tight, buried deep beneath the mountain. The pack lands above would be glowing red soon. A symbol. A warning. Or maybe a promise. Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the corridor. I froze, heart pounding, as Damon appeared in the doorway. His shirt was bloodstained. His hair wild. And his eyes—those eyes that once held charm and lies in equal measure—were pure fury now. “You feel it, don’t you?” His voice was low, dangerous. “The Blood Moon. It’s waking you up. But it’s mine, Elara. I claimed this night. I claimed you.” I didn’t answer. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But the tr

Lucien The city never really slept, but from the 47th floor of Wolfe Holdings, it at least seemed like it did. Manhattan’s lights glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my private office—cold, clean, distant. The kind of view meant to inspire power. Tonight, it felt like a war map. I stood with my back to the room, fingers clutched around a glass of bourbon I hadn’t touched. My mind wasn’t on the deal closing in Tokyo or the last-minute shakeup on the board after my announcement about Isla and Leo. It was on the message she forwarded. Damon’s threat. It hadn’t been vague. It hadn’t been cautious. It had been direct and deliberate. “You think he can protect you now? He’s just a distraction. I’m coming for what’s mine.” Mine. The audacity of it made my jaw tighten, my fingers curl around the glass until the cut crystal left an imprint in my palm. I hadn’t wanted to go nuclear. I’d hoped that by stepping into the light with Isla and Leo, Damon would back off—understandi

Isla The scent of Lucien’s cologne lingered long after he left—a blend of spice and midnight, comfort and danger. I stood by the window in my apartment, arms wrapped around myself, watching the city lights shimmer in the darkness like a million secrets just waiting to be exposed. Behind me, Leo was asleep, his small frame cocooned in the covers, Lucien’s tiger plushie clutched tightly in his arms. I should have felt safe. I should have felt comforted. But all I felt was the low thrum of dread under my skin. Damon had been at Leo’s school. Not even subtle about it. Just… present. Watching. Reminding me that he still could. I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the windowsill. I hadn’t expected Lucien to come tonight. Not after the day we’d had. The press storm, the boardroom meetings I wasn’t part of but could feel the ripple effects of, the eyes everywhere now watching me—not just because I was once the billionaire’s mistress, but because I was the woman he’d chosen to claim pu

Lucien The boardroom of Wolfe International was the height of glass and steel elegance, perched atop the sixty-first floor like a throne room built for war. I stood at the head of the long obsidian table, staring out at the skyline of Paris bathed in the glow of a late afternoon sun. My reflection in the glass was sharp, composed, impenetrable. But beneath the tailored suit and cufflinks, tension simmered. “Your press conference changed the game, Lucien,” Soraya said from her seat beside me, tapping a crimson fingernail against a tablet. “The public is on your side now. You’ve rebranded yourself overnight—from ruthless billionaire to protective father. Women are swooning. Men are backing off. The sympathy factor? Off the charts.” “It wasn’t for the public,” I muttered, though I knew it played both ways. “It was for Leo. For Isla.” I turned from the window and took my seat, steepling my fingers as the rest of the team filed in. Attorneys. PR strategists. My private investigator. Ev

Isla The echo of Lucien’s press conference still rippled through every facet of my world. I hadn’t left the penthouse since the broadcast aired, afraid of what the outside world might look like now that my most guarded truth had become a headline. Lucien had claimed us—me and Leo—with a billionaire’s flair and a father’s raw conviction. The entire world now knew I was the woman he’d lost once and wouldn’t lose again. And Leo? Leo was no longer a secret. He was Lucien Wolfe’s heir. But with exposure came fear. I sat on the edge of the chaise lounge in the sun-drenched sitting room, clutching my phone like it was a lifeline. My inbox was flooded. Journalists, talk show producers, stylists, PR agents—even distant relatives I hadn’t spoken to in years. They all wanted a piece of the story. A piece of us. Leo was blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding. He was down the hallway with Sophia, his favorite nanny, giggling as she read him a picture book for the fifth time. The purity of h

Isla The first thing I noticed when I stepped out of the town car was the flash of cameras. Even before the media found me, I felt their presence like the pressure of a storm rolling in—hot, stifling, inevitable. Lucien had warned me. “There’s no going back,” he’d said last night, his voice velvet-soft as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. “When I go public with Leo, everything changes.” He wasn’t wrong. Now I stood at the courthouse steps, my fingers curled around the leather strap of my handbag like it could anchor me through the whirlwind ahead. Lucien stood beside me, immaculately dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his expression calm but unreadable. His hand brushed the small of my back—reassuring, possessive, and entirely too grounding. Across the street, a few paparazzi shouted our names. “Lucien! Isla! Is that your child?” “Is this the real reason behind the Renwick acquisition?” “Isla, how long have you been hiding the baby?” I didn’t flinch, but my spine s

Isla I watched the sunlight dance on the polished marble floors of Lucien’s penthouse, my reflection faintly staring back at me through the massive windows overlooking Manhattan. It should have felt luxurious, comforting even—but all I could feel was the tight knot in my stomach. The world had shifted. Again. First, Lucien’s bold press conference. Then Damon’s move for custody. And now… the waiting. The silence before the next storm. Leo was in the playroom down the hall, laughing softly with Marie, the nanny Lucien trusted with his life. I could hear the faint tinkling of toy blocks, the soft cadence of his little voice forming stories only he could understand. But I wasn’t there with him. I was in the kitchen, clutching a porcelain mug filled with a tea I hadn’t touched. My mind was racing, retracing every step that had led us here—every secret, every truth, every moment I thought I was doing what was best for my son. Now I wasn’t so sure anymore. The door behind me creaked s