The Newgate Novels & Stories

We came to a four way stop with an intersection and the section over to the left side opened up into a park area with playgrounds, tennis courts, batting cages and more amenities than I could even identify. “Wow, you even have a park inside the gates?” I asked, marveling at how convenient and smart this design seemed to be. “Yes, a huge selling point in Urban Crest. Since both gates are monitored at all times and you have to either live here or be screened to enter, parents can let their kids come and go without fear of anything happening to them. Plus, the entire place has cameras running and each home is wired to have access to the cameras in the area.” “That’s brilliant.” I uttered.

"The internal gates are swinging open. The citadel is at absolute baseline defense." The heavy, titanium-reinforced white granite gates of the compound parted with a smooth, silent hydraulic hiss, allowing the luxury convoy to cruise into the grand central courtyard. "Look, Mommy! Look, Daddy! The castle has a giant silver fountain in the middle!" Seven-year-old Patrice shrieked with pure, unbridled childhood excitement. She had thrown her storybook onto the floorboards, her small leather sneakers bouncing against the carpet as she pressed her face straight against the tinted window glass. She wore a soft yellow knit sweater and denim shorts, her long silver-white braids catching the golden

The gateman and the driver were staring at us in bewilderment. 'Adamu, please open the gate.' Mom said as soon as she entered the car. 'Aah Aah. Madam, Abeg take am easy. Make Oga come first.' 'Open the Gate, my friend.' He jumped at the intensity of her voice and he exchanged a brief glance with the driver before he opened the gate. She zoomed off without a backward glance. 'Uthman, wetin happen? Why Madam dey pack comot?'

We slowly moved from the bustling, lively downtown area to a relatively open area. This was not a remote area on the outskirts but the top-rich area in New York City. The roads became wider and cleaner. The spacing between buildings was more sparse. The number of pedestrians and vehicles decreased, while what increased was the large areas of meticulously trimmed greenery. The tall and thick wrought-iron gates at the entrance appeared before my eyes. The advanced detection system quickly scanned and identified the convoy, emitting a clear sound. Then the gate slowly opened to both sides. Although it was already late in the evening, the manor was brightly lit as if it were still daytime.

However, what I didn’t expect was that someone else wasn’t ready to let me go. The next day, an unfamiliar name appeared in my inbox. The email contained no words and only a link.

Just the arrogance of excess money, confidently invisible. Junior shifted beside Nevena, blinking up at the seamless structure. It held the kind of intimidation that wraps itself around one's lungs. “This is…the gate?” Nevena said under her breath. Junior whistled. “This is definitely where Skynet lives.” Nevena chuckled. “Yeah—the gate alone looks like it cost more than New Mexico itself,” “Excessive at its peak.” Junior agreed, staring at his reflection on the obsidian surface. “Miss Nevena! How do we get in?”

Just clarity. And this time, I won’t let myself forget that I’m trying to protect my own heart. By the time I leave the house, I’ve convinced myself this is just logistics. The address Gabriel sent isn’t familiar. It’s outside the usual business districts. Farther. Quieter. The gates come into view first. Tall. Black. Imposing. I slow the car instinctively. Before I can even reach for the intercom, the gates begin to open. I frown.

The Return to the "Gilded Cage" They reached the gates of the Hawke Estate by midday. The "Iron Silence" here was heavy, weighted with the "Tension" of decades. The massive wrought-iron gates, once powered by a "Zero-Point" security grid, were now rusted open, choked by wild hawthorn and "Independent" ivy.

Gabriel POV We pulled through the gates of the compound at eight fifteen. The Bangria residence was nothing like the Wrenfield townhouse in Crescent Harbour. This was a walled estate on three acres in the Highfields district, surrounded by reinforced perimeter fencing, monitored by thirty-six cameras, and staffed by a security team of twelve. The house itself was a sprawling modernist structure of concrete and glass, designed by an architect who'd been told to make it look like a home and had instead produced something that looked like a very elegant bunker.

she says squeezing my hand gently. I wince as I feel the guilt of what I did. You did it for her I tell myself. I did it for the people as well. In fact, from what I have seen of Nova so far, I imagine one day she would apologise for getting so upset. It’s a something Luthor would do in a heartbeat. As we drive up the driveway of the Palace and past the guards, Nova drinks in every detail. From the floor to ceiling windows in the first and second floors, the beautiful manicured lawns, the beautiful light grey stone it’s built from to the turrets in the towers.