Novels by Jeffrey Ofori

The rookies had never been tested like this.Tonight wasn't about proving potential or impressing a crowd. It was simple and brutal. Win, and they walked away. Lose, and whatever dreams they had of reaching the big stage would die in this basement with them.The underground reeked of scorched metal and cracked concrete. Smoke hung thick in the air, stinging the lungs with every breath. The echoes of the first exchange still rang through the halls, overlapping gunfire and collapsing walls blurring into a single, relentless roar.Kaya had been the first to break from the chaos.She sprinted blindly through the corridors, boots slapping against concrete until she skidded to a halt. The passage narrowed sharply, pipes lining the walls, brick closing in on both sides.A dead end.Her chest heaved as she spun around.Her HUD flickered into view.HP: 85 of 120Stamina: 61 percentThe android pursuing her stepped into the corridor with mechanical calm. Taller. Heavier. Reinforced plating line

The room tightened when LeRoy stepped inside.Not loud. Not chaotic. Just heavy with the kind of tension that followed hard fights and narrow survival.Yohan stood near the far wall, posture straight, eyes forward. He looked untouched, as if the earlier fight had cost him nothing. Delila leaned against a locker with her arms folded, gaze lowered but alert. Another fighter sat on a bench, hands still wrapped, staring at the floor. Two more lingered near the corners, quiet, watching everyone without saying a word.No one spoke.Shawn Hall closed the door behind him and waited.When he finally broke the silence, his voice was calm. Measured."Alright," he said. "That's everyone."A few eyes lifted."You all fought tonight," Shawn continued. "And you all gave the organisers exactly what they were looking for."He paced slowly across the room, boots echoing softly against concrete."Some of you won clean. Some of you didn't. Doesn't matter. What matters is that none of you folded."LeRoy f

LeRoy should have been broken. By every measure that mattered, his body had already taken more than it should have been able to withstand. His muscles screamed every time he shifted his weight. A dull ache pulsed beneath his ribs, a constant reminder that adrenaline only borrowed time, it never erased damage. And yet, he was sitting upright. Not healed. Not recovered. Just functional enough to be dangerous. The infirmary smelled like antiseptic and old blood. The kind that never fully washed out of concrete no matter how often it was scrubbed. Rust-colored stains marked the edges of the floor where fighters before him had been dragged in, patched up, and pushed back toward the noise. Somewhere beyond the walls, the crowd was still roaring. They always were. LeRoy leaned back against the narrow bed, staring at the cracked ceiling above. The flickering light hummed softly, almost soothing compared to the chaos outside. His breathing was steady now, but every inhale still felt s

The betting floor was alive. Not lively. Not energetic. Alive in the way a cornered animal was alive, all noise and movement driven by hunger. Cash slapped against scarred tables with dull, meaty sounds. Crypto chips clicked and slid across sweaty palms. Voices overlapped until they blurred together, gamblers shouting names and numbers into air thick with smoke and cheap alcohol. Above it all, floating screens flickered endlessly. Odds rose and crashed in real time, glowing figures shifting every few seconds as confidence moved like a tide. Nearly all of it flowed one way. Enoch Lander. He wasn't famous. No grand highlights. No viral clips. But reputation didn't need a spotlight down here. It spread quietly, passed between people who knew what violence really looked like. Close combat specialist. Jujutsu elite. A fighter who didn't rely on overwhelming strength or flashy techniques. He fought with precision, pressure, and control. The kind of man who broke opponents slowly an

A full week passed after the hillside. Seven nights. Seven mornings. LeRoy didn't leave the house once. Time blurred together in that small room, hours marked only by the dull glow of the city bleeding through the window at night and the quiet hum of distant traffic during the day. The world outside kept moving, but LeRoy stayed still. Sitting. Lying down. Staring at the ceiling. Thinking about things he couldn't undo. Levan's face came back to him more than he wanted. Not the way he looked at the end, but the way he used to smile when things went right. The way he laughed in the van after a clean escape. The way he always said they'd figure things out somehow. Now there was nothing to figure out. Marc had come by two days after the incident. No shouting. No blaming. Just a quiet knock and a heavy silence between them. He paid LeRoy what he'd been promised for the heist. Said it was only right. Said Levan would've wanted it that way. LeRoy didn't argue. The money sat untouched

Three years later.The shopping centre was chaos.Alarms wailed from every direction, sharp and relentless, echoing off glass storefronts and metal shutters. Shoppers screamed as security drones hovered erratically overhead, red lights flashing as they tried to lock onto targets that refused to stay still.Levan burst out through a shattered entrance first, clutching a bag stuffed with stolen watches and electronics. Three others followed close behind him, breath ragged, shoes skidding across the polished floor.“Move!” someone shouted behind them.Security guards poured out after them, weapons raised, shouting orders no one intended to follow.They split into the parking lot, dodging cars and leaping over barriers as taser rounds crackled past them. One of the crew stumbled, barely catching himself before hitting the ground.That was when the van came screaming in.The side door slid open.“Get in!” LeRoy shouted from behind the wheel.They didn’t hesitate.One by one, they dove into