Novels by Phanie O'Neri

The rain hadn’t stopped for hours. It drummed against the windows of Carrick's war room like a warning, steady and relentless.Victor stood by the fireplace, arms crossed, watching Carrick pace in front of the city map. The black lines of territory had begun to blur beneath smeared ink and scrawled updates. Names had been crossed out in red. More every day."We lost two more blocks in the East," Victor said flatly. "One of our trucks went up in flames near the Viaduct. Nobody survived."Carrick turned sharply. "Which crew?""Nico's."Carrick's jaw tightened. Nico had been loyal since the docks. Since before any of this had truly begun. Another ghost to add to the hall."Alessia," Carrick muttered."She’s not acting alone," Victor added. "The way she moves... it's coordinated. Timed. Someone's pulling strings beside her."Carrick pointed to a cluster of buildings in the West. "Then we find out who. Shake down her known allies. I want to see blood in the alleys. If they back her, they f

The storm had no mercy.Rain lashed against the windows of the Gale estate, like ghostly fingers tapping out a warning on the glass. Thunder rolled over the city in slow, growling waves, the sound echoing through the marble halls and empty corridors of Carrick's stronghold. Inside the war room, the tension was thick enough to choke on.Carrick stood alone before the table, the city map soaked in red ink and wine stains, cigarette smoke curling above his head. His fingers traced the perimeter of West District again and again, like he could feel the noose tightening around his empire.Victor entered without knocking, his coat dripping wet, his eyes grim."She hit the seventh shipment," he said.Carrick didn’t flinch. "Losses?""Six dead. Two drivers, four guards. And..." Victor hesitated. "She left a message. Burned it into the asphalt."Carrick turned slowly. "What did it say?"Victor’s voice was flat. "An eye for an eye. And your city will go blind."Silence hung like a blade between

The scent of blood still clung to the smoldering warehouse ruins when dawn broke. A sickly orange light seeped through the skeletal frame of the building, casting long, jagged shadows over the wreckage. The air was thick with ash and tension, every breath reminding the survivors that Carrick Gale's war had turned another violent corner.Victor stood amidst the ruin, his coat torn, his jaw bruised, but his eyes sharp as ever. He watched the cleanup in silence. Medics were dragging out the wounded, body bags were being zipped. Three dead. Two maimed. The price of underestimating Alessia De Luca.Carrick emerged from the alley, his clothes blackened with soot, but his presence no less commanding. Marco walked beside him, bandages wrapped around his cheek, a hollow set to his features. Neither of them spoke at first."Booby-trapped weapons," Victor said grimly. "Who does that?""Someone who wants us to fear pulling the trigger," Marco muttered.Carrick's voice was quiet, dangerous. "She’s

The storm rolled over the city like a judgment long overdue, thunder rumbling low in the belly of the clouds. Rain spat against the windows of the Gale estate, but inside, the air was dry and charged.Carrick stood at the far end of the war room, his back to the door, eyes fixed on a map of the city pocked with red pins. Each one was a wound. A betrayal. A ghost.Victor stepped in without knocking. “We lost another shipment.”Carrick didn’t turn. “Where?”“Dock 17. South bay. Alessia’s people torched it. Again.”A long silence. Carrick’s hand clenched the edge of the table. “How many?”“Five men dead. Two missing. One of them was Piero.”Carrick finally turned. His eyes were darker than the storm outside. “Piero was loyal.”Victor nodded grimly. “He went down fighting.”“Good,” Carrick said softly, then added after a pause, “He deserves to be remembered for that. Not for dying under my command.”Victor watched him carefully. “You can’t keep bleeding people for territory, Carrick. She’

Rain fell over the city like ash, thick and slow, soaking into the concrete and steel. A storm had rolled in from the east, as if summoned by the violence still hanging in the air. The streets were quieter than usual. Tension had a sound, and tonight, it whispered from the shadows.Carrick Gale stood beneath the awning of the Gale estate, a glass of dark rum in his hand and a Glock tucked beneath his coat. The wind stirred the edges of his coat, as if nature itself was uneasy around him.Victor approached from the gates, soaked to the bone. He didn’t complain. He never did."Kovac's gone dark," he said without preamble. "No one’s heard from him since the warehouse incident. His men are pulling out of shared zones. It smells like retreat, but I think he’s coiling. Waiting."Carrick didn’t look at him. "And Salvi?""Still playing both sides. Meeting with Alessia’s people through back channels. Lucien's face has been spotted near the docks.""Then it’s started."Victor paused. "You could

Carrick Gale didn’t sleep anymore.He sat in the estate’s underground war room, the dim light of the overhead bulbs casting jagged shadows across his face. The map table before him was marked with fresh ink...blue for neutral territories, black for allies, and red for enemies. The red bled across the city like an open wound.Victor stood near the door, arms folded, watching him. “You haven’t said a word in hours.”Carrick’s fingers traced a circle around a warehouse in the South District. “She’s baiting us.”Victor stepped closer. “You think Alessia wants us to strike?”“She wants me to overreach. She’s picked at the edges...cut off our money, turned the Kovac crew against us. That was precise. Surgical.” He looked up, eyes bloodshot but burning. “She’s not lashing out. She’s hunting.”Victor let out a slow breath. “So what do we do?”Carrick pushed the map aside. “We stop reacting. Start moving like predators, not prey.”Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Marco entered, face pal