Novels by Manesa

The sunlight filtered through the window in warm, lazy streaks, catching the dust motes that drifted through Nova's recovery suite like tiny stars adrift in a quiet galaxy.Eli sat beside her bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture deceptively relaxed. Nova was propped against a mountain of pillows, a straw poking out from between her lips as she sucked the last dregs of her fruit juice. Her color had returned over the past weeks—not fully, but enough. Enough that the hollow beneath her eyes had softened. Enough that her sharp, teasing smile had begun to resurface.She caught him watching her and scowled."Stop looking at me like I'm about to break.""I wasn't.""You were. You've got that face. The one you make when you're trying to decide whether to say something or swallow it."Eli's lips curved faintly. "I don't have a face.""Everyone has a face. Yours just happens to be annoyingly readable when you're not paying attention."He didn't argue. There wasn't any point. Nova h

"...Selene?"His voice cracked before he realized it.For one impossible moment, hope flooded through him with such force it almost hurt."Selene... where are you?"The voice remained gentle. Warm. Exactly as he remembered."If you're hearing this..."The voice stopped speaking for a while, inhaling and exhaling slowly."...then you did it."Eli frowned. His expression slowly changed. The rhythm.Every sentence arrived perfectly measured. Every pause exactly timed.There were no breaths. No hesitation. No emotion changing beneath the words.Only the illusion of it. His stomach tightened."No..."The recording continued."I always believed you would find a way.""You were stubborn enough."A soft laugh escaped through the speaker.The familiar laugh made something twist painfully inside his chest."I wish I could have seen your face when Meridian finally fell."Eli closed his eyes."No..."Carlos had already crossed the room."What is it?"Eli didn't answer.He couldn't.Phoenix spoke

Chapter 252 — GenesisThe first rays of morning had barely broken across Rome when the engines of the private jet came alive.Mist rolled over the runway as the aircraft accelerated into the pale sky, leaving the city—and the war waiting beneath it—behind.Inside the cabin, silence lingered.Carlos sat opposite Eli, a tablet balanced on his knee. The screen filled and emptied with reports faster than he could read them. Another allied intelligence cell had gone dark overnight. A minister who had quietly pledged support had withdrawn after intense political pressure. Every hour the Circle tightened its grip a little more.Carlos finally looked up."You know they'll expect you to stay here.""They expect a lot of things," Eli replied, his eyes fixed on the clouds beyond the window."And you're going to New York anyway.""I have to."Carlos closed the tablet."You've never told me what's hidden there."Eli was quiet for several moments."My father left something behind.""Something Merid

Rome never really slept.Even in the early hours, the city glowed beyond the safehouse windows, gold and white against the dark. Inside, though, there was nothing peaceful about it.The operations room was lit by the cold wash of half a dozen monitors, each one showing a different piece of a world that seemed to be coming apart in slow motion.News feeds. Satellite images. Encrypted diplomatic channels. Military logistics.Carlos had been in the same chair for nearly twelve hours, and it showed. He looked exhausted, but his hands never stopped moving.A secure call ended. He dragged a hand down his face, then glanced toward Eli, who was standing by the window with a mug of coffee he hadn’t touched.“They agreed.”Eli turned from the glass. “How many?”“Four governments are willing to listen.”Carlos brought up four encrypted files on the central display.“Two are ready to share intelligence. One’s offering logistical support. The last one won’t send troops, but they’ll give us satelli

Silence settled over the chamber with a weight that felt almost physical. One by one, the enormous doors groaned shut behind the departing council members until the final metallic thud echoed through the vast hall. Their footsteps faded into the distance, leaving only the low, steady vibration humming beneath the floor. Eli remained motionless in the chair, the restraints around his wrists giving off a faint electric pulse every few seconds, tightening and adjusting whenever they detected even the slightest shift in his muscles. The chair was not simply holding him; it was studying him. Above, rows of white lights reflected off polished steel, and beyond the reinforced glass the colossal ring suspended inside the glacier pulsed once, slow and patient, as if it were waiting for something only it understood.Eli watched it without blinking. Whatever Meridian had buried beneath Antarctica was not just another machine. Every instinct he had told him that much. Minutes passed, then more,

Consciousness came back in pieces.First, there was the sound of metal groaning somewhere far away.Then the low, steady hum of machinery beneath him.Then the ache, spreading through every bone in his body.And after that, the cold.It wasn't the cold that came from weather or bad insulation. This was deeper than that. It felt old, almost alive, working its way past clothing and skin and settled into his bones making his bone rattle and his teeth clench.Eli opened his eyes.For a few seconds, nothing made sense.His vision blurred in and out, dark at the edges, until the ceiling above him finally came into focus.Black steel.Rows of recessed lights.A thin layer of frost gathering along the seams. He drew in a breath. The air burned on the way down. His wrists moved on instinct.Metal answered.Heavy restraints locked around both wrists and ankles, holding him in a reinforced chair bolted to the floor. They weren’t ordinary restraints either. Fine silver conduits ran through the al

Be calm. Be calm. Be calm.The words echoed in Damian's skull like a drumbeat.He forced his face into something resembling confidence. Forced his hand to stay steady. Forced himself to breathe.Then he took Jason's hand."Mr. Steele. I've heard so much about you.Damian’s smile widened. Jason’s grip was firm. Warm. The grip of a man who had never lost a night's sleep over the lives he'd destroyed."Good things, I hope."Jason matched the smile. "Only the best."He released Jason's hand. Turned to the next man in the circle.The witness. The man who had stood in that parole hearing and spoken the words that set Damian free.Damian extended his hand."Mr. Steele. A pleasure."The man looked up.And froze.His face went pale. His eyes widened. A flicker of recognition. A flash of fear. Then—nothing. His expression smoothed over like a stone dropped in still water."Caleb," he said. His voice was tight. "Caleb Roth."He didn't take Damian's hand. Just nodded. Turned his gaze away.Damian

Damian slowly lowered the phone, turning his eyes toward Elena as she met his gaze, her expression tight. "Who was that?""Victor Hartwell," he whispered, his voice coming out, dead,... flat.Elena's eyebrows pulled together, her hand moving to the weapon she now kept hidden at her hip, her jaw setting. "What does he want?"Damian shook his head slowly, staring into the dark corner of the room. "He invited me over to his house."Silence descended upon the safe house. Elena stood frozen, absorbing his words, her sharp eyes searching his pale face."You think I shouldn't go?" Damian asked, his throat tight."Refusing would be suspicious," she said, her tone cautious."What if it's a trap? An ambush?" Damian's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "What if he's already pieced together my true identity and is setting a trap to corner me?"Elena walked over to the window, peering carefully through the tiny slit in the curtains, there was no one there, the street was still empty, quiet,

The black sedan was still there.Damian noticed it in his rearview mirror. Parked across the street. Same spot. Same tinted windows. Same engine idling.Three days. Three days of the same car. Three days of the same shadow.He killed the engine. Sat still and watched.He checked the time on his watch, three minutes had passed and the sedan still hadn’t moved.Damian smiled.Victor's men. Has to be.He thought back to the first day he'd noticed it. He'd been dropping Serena off at her apartment. They had spent the afternoon walking through the park. Talking. Laughing. Her hand in his. The sun warm on their faces.He'd kissed her goodbye. Watched her disappear inside. Then he'd driven off.The sedan had followed.At first, he'd thought it was nothing. A coincidence. But he'd driven in circles. Taken random turns. Gone nowhere. And the sedan was still there. Always there.Not nothing. Definitely not nothing.____Damian stepped out of the car.The air was cold. Sharp. He pulled his jacke

The dining room was grand.Crystal chandeliers. Mahogany table. Silverware that gleamed under the soft light. A painting on the wall that cost more than most people's houses.Damian sat alone.His plate was half-empty. The food was excellent. He barely tasted it.Victor had excused himself moments ago. Something about a phone call. A quick glance at his watch. A muttered apology. Serena had followed soon after. A quiet word. A tense glance. Damian hadn't thought twice about it.Until he heard the voices.They drifted through the walls. Muffled. Distant. But clear enough.Damian's jaw tightened.He reached up. Touched his ear. Felt the tiny device nestled inside.The listening chip. He had slipped it into Serena’s teeth when they had kissed. Hours ago. Before they had arrived at the mansion. It had been a gamble. A risk. He hadn’t been sure it would work. But it worked. The technology was experimental. Pasternak had written the design plan on his hospital bed, and he- Damian had been a

"Too bad Victor doesn't like painting because this is totally perfect."Damian's eyes were on the painting on the wall. A landscape. Hills rolling into a golden sunset. The brushstrokes were delicate. Precise. Full of emotion.Serena stood beside him. Her arms were crossed. Her head tilted."You think?"Damian turned to her. His smile was easy. Warm."I more than think, Serena. The fact that half the dozens of paintings in here belong to you makes it more mind-blowing. And each one of them is worth every penny."Serena smiled. A soft blush crept up her cheeks.Then the smile faded.She faced him. Her eyes were steady. Searching."I never said my father's name is Victor."Damian's heart skipped.One beat. Two.His expression stayed relaxed. A slight smile pulled across his face. Then it faded. He got serious. His voice dropped. Low. Almost nervous."I know I shouldn't have looked. But I googled him. Wanted to see the kind of man that had been able to birth a perfect daughter."Serena d

The warehouse job was mindless. He had accepted it on a Tuesday morning. Now he was stuck with a routine, one he didn't enjoy, but had to do anyway.Damian clocked in at seven. Clocked out at four. Three days a week. Eight hours of moving boxes, sorting inventory, learning the faces of every worker who passed through. The fluorescent lights hummed. The concrete floor ached in his knees. The air smelled like cardboard and dust and old sweat.He kept his head down. His mouth shut. His ears open.The foreman was a heavyset man named Carl. Liked to yell. Liked to throw things when he was angry. A clipboard went flying across the floor once. A wrench another time. Damian avoided him. Stayed in the corners. Did his work. Watched.By the end of the second week, he knew the names of every supervisor. Every shift lead. Every delivery driver. He knew who was sleeping with who. Who owed money to who. Who was desperate enough to sell information for a price.He filed it all away. Another layer to