Novels by Ella

“Whoever he is, he’ll definitely come for you next.” Margaret said, flicking a gold pen in her hand.The pen caught the light every time it spun between her fingers, a sharp metallic glint slicing through the otherwise warm glow of the private meeting room. It was a calculated habit, small, controlled movements that masked how alert she truly was. Her posture was relaxed, almost lazy, yet her eyes never stopped watching Midas Sultan.Across from her, Mr. Kole sat with his back straight, hands folded neatly atop the polished table. The room itself spoke of power—leather chairs, muted gold accents, walls thick enough to bury secrets. This was where decisions were made quietly, and consequences were buried loudly.Mr. Kole had called in Midas Sultan for a meeting.Midas leaned back in his chair like he owned the place, one arm draped over the side, the other lifting a crystal glass of alcohol to his lips.“You speak as though this human were a god, capable of harming me.” Midas sneered,

“Veyron’s close ally, Midas Sultan, a renowned drug lord from the deadliest underworld drug gang, The Red Serpent Cartel.” Kylen said, standing at attention close to the smart board.The room was heavy with a silence that felt deliberate, like the walls themselves were listening. The glow from the smart board cast a cold, bluish hue across the chamber, reflecting faintly off polished steel surfaces and marble accents. It illuminated Kylen’s rigid posture and the sharp lines of his uniform, but it did nothing to soften the tension thickening the air.Before him sat Draven.His legs were crossed in unbothered dominance, one elbow resting against the marble desk as though the weight of the world could not touch him. His posture was relaxed, yet it carried an unspoken authority—pristine, calculated, and terrifying. “Midas Sultan.” He muttered with a smirk.The smirk wasn’t amusement. It was recognition—the kind that came before destruction.“I fished out his hidden crime records from ten

At the Crimson Villa…“What happened that day, Karen?” Mr. Kole leaned in, his eyebrows knitted tightly together, worry etched deep into the lines of his face. His voice was calm, careful, but the urgency beneath it was unmistakable.Karen sat stiffly on the couch, her hands trembling faintly in her lap. Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Her throat felt dry, constricted, like something invisible had wrapped itself around it.“A… Veyron…” she finally managed, her voice weak, fractured. The name alone seemed to drain the strength from her. She swallowed hard, struggling to push the words out. “He…”Beside Mr. Kole sat the First Lady, Margaret Khan, her posture composed yet tense. Her sharp eyes never left Karen’s face, watching every twitch, every shallow breath.They both stared at her, one with concern, the other with sharp curiosity…waiting.Karen lifted a shaking hand and pressed it over her neck, as if steadying herself. “Veyron… that man…” Her breathing hitched. “Th

At Northgate Command Bastion…The huge bronze doors opened slowly, their weight announcing themselves with a deep, grinding groan that echoed through the stone corridors.A tall figure stepped through the widening gap, his silhouette briefly framed by the dim light behind him.The doors shut just as slowly.BOOM.The reverberation rolled through the boardroom, sealing his entry like a verdict.General Shaw paused.The boardroom was unusually dim, far darker than protocol allowed. The fluorescent bulbs above were lit, yet their glow seemed muted, swallowed by shadow before it could fully touch the walls.The long marble table reflected faint outlines rather than clear shapes, as though the room itself refused clarity.Why is no one here yet? General Shaw thought as he walked forward, his brows knitting together in unease.The sound of his shoes striking the marble floor echoed sharply, each step amplified, bouncing from wall to wall.The silence pressed down on him, thick and deliberat

Veyron growled sharply, the sound ragged and broken, torn from what little strength still clung to him. His body trembled violently, the cold tile beneath him slick and unforgiving.“Just kill me then!” Veyron yelled weakly, the words cracking as they left his throat.His strength finally gave out.He fell backward into the dark pool spreading beneath him, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud. His breathing slowed, each rise of his chest shallower than the last, as though life itself was retreating inch by inch.Draven stood over him in silence, watching.His gaze lowered, sharp and unreadable, tracking every faltering breath, every flicker of resistance draining from Veyron’s eyes. There was no rush in him. No urgency. Only patience—cold, deliberate patience.Slowly, Draven lowered himself, his movements controlled, almost ceremonial. He reached down and lifted one of Veyron’s legs, gripping it firmly as though testing its weight.“Same legs,” Draven said quietly, his voice da

Veyron growled, the sound torn from deep in his chest as pain and shock ripped through him at once. His eyes widened, veins bulging at the corners as realization slammed into him like a late, merciless blow.He didn’t expect it.The hall seemed to tilt, the torches lining the walls blurring as his breath came out uneven, sharp, almost feral. His body strained against the ropes instinctively, but the damage had already been done. The moment had passed.“Boss..” A few of Veyron's men that were barely alive muttered.Draven kicked a chair aside with his boot and calmly spun another into position, sitting as if this were nothing more than a private meeting rather than a public execution waiting to happen. He leaned back slightly, posture relaxed, dominance settling around him like a second skin.“A man that betrays another man,” Draven said evenly, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall, “has already proven himself to be a good traitor, and a bad ally, a worse friend, and the ki