Novels by Rachel Holt

Harrison Cole stepped down from the podium and walked directly toward Ethan, his arms outstretched. The entire ballroom watched in stunned silence. Harrison reached Ethan and clasped his hand firmly, shaking it with genuine warmth. "Mr. Cross," Harrison said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you came tonight." He turned to address the crowd, still holding Ethan's hand. "Ladies and gentlemen, many of you know me. You know I am not a man who exaggerates. So when I tell you that this young man saved my life, I mean it literally." The whispers grew louder. Harrison continued. "weeks ago, I collapsed at my herbal medicine store. My heart had stopped. And this man performed a medical technique I had never seen before. He brought me back. He healed an injury I carried for twenty years." The crowd stared at Ethan with new eyes now. Shock. Confusion. Curiosity. "Please," Harrison said, gesturing toward the stage. "Join me." Ethan wa

The crowd murmured with approval. "Good," one man said. "People like this ruin events for everyone else." "I hope they arrest him," a woman added. "Teach him a lesson." Ethan looked down at the hand gripping his arm. Then back up at the supervisor. "Let go," Ethan said. His voice was still calm. But there was something in it now. Something cold. The supervisor tightened his grip. "Or what? You are going to do something? Go ahead. Assault a security officer in front of all these witnesses. That will just add to your charges." A voice cut through the crowd like a blade. "Remove your hand. Now." Everyone turned. James Cole stood at the entrance of the hotel. He wore a dark civilian suit, perfectly tailored, but there was no mistaking the authority in his posture. The command in his voice. The supervisor blinked, confused. "Sir, this does not concern—" "I said remove your hand," James repeated. His voice was ice. "Now." The supervisor looked at James more carefull

"Ethan Cross," Ethan said. The security guard pulled out a tablet from inside his jacket and scrolled through the list of names. His finger moved down the screen slowly. Then it stopped. "Ethan Cross," the guard repeated, looking at the screen. He looked up at Ethan. Then down at the tablet. Then back at Ethan again. His eyes moved from Ethan's plain white shirt to his simple black pants to his worn shoes. The guard's expression changed. His polite professionalism disappeared, replaced by suspicion and contempt. "Sir," the guard said, his tone no longer respectful. "This is a private event. For invited guests only." "My name is on the list," Ethan said calmly. "Anyone can say a name," the guard said. "Do you have identification?" Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out his ID card. He held it out. The guard did not take it. He barely even glanced at it. "That could be fake," the guard said dismissively. "It is not fake," Ethan said. "Check the name. It matches." "I

The news cameras filmed for another thirty seconds before James's soldiers firmly moved the reporters back behind the perimeter line. A reporter shouted one last question. "Sir, can we at least get your name?" Ethan turned and walked back into the factory without answering. The cameras kept rolling, capturing his silhouette disappearing into the shadows. Inside, James followed him. "I apologize for that," James said quietly. "I should have anticipated they would swarm you." Ethan shook his head. "It is done." James studied him for a moment. Then his expression shifted, becoming more businesslike. "The banquet is in two hours," James said. "Will you still come?" Ethan hesitated. "I need to check on my sister first." "Of course." James nodded. "But after that—please. My father is looking forward to seeing you again." Across the factory, Claire finished with the medics. She stood slowly, testing her legs, then walked over to where Ethan and James stood. "You are leaving?" Clai

The medics worked quickly. They cut the ropes binding Claire's wrists and examined the cut on her throat. It was shallow, barely more than a nick, but they cleaned it carefully and applied a bandage. "You should go to the hospital," one of the medics said. "Get a full examination. You might have internal injuries—" "I am fine," Claire said firmly. "Miss Sterling—" "I said I am fine." The medic sighed but did not argue further. Across the factory, police had arrived. City police, not military. They moved through the scene, photographing evidence, bagging weapons, taking statements. Victor Kane was being led out in handcuffs, flanked by four soldiers. He walked with his head down, his massive frame slumped in defeat. No protests. No resistance. Just silence. Richard was different. He was screaming. "This is a mistake! I am a victim here! That man—" he pointed at Ethan with his zip-tied hands "—he is the one you should arrest! He attacked us!" Two police officers dragged him t

The factory gates exploded inward with a deafening crash. Not literally. But the force with which they were rammed open made it sound like an explosion. Metal screeched against metal. The rusted chains that had secured them snapped like thread. Through the opening poured a convoy of military vehicles. Armored trucks. Tactical vans. All of them dark green with small military insignias on the sides. They screeched to a halt in a semicircle around the factory entrance, their headlights flooding the interior with blinding white light. Doors flew open. Soldiers poured out. Not regular soldiers. Special forces. Black tactical uniforms. Body armor. Helmets. Each one carrying an assault rifle held at the ready. Within seconds, fifty soldiers had surrounded the factory, blocking every exit. Overhead, helicopters hovered, their spotlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating every corner of the building. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Victor's knife hand dropped to h

Jacob and Anna reached the command center within minutes, finding chaos as reports flooded in from across the city. The explosions had hit three targets simultaneously—a power substation in the northern district, a communications hub near the docks, and a fuel depot on the eastern edge that was now burning out of control."Argo's embedded soldiers," Leo reported, pointing to the tactical map showing attack locations. "They are activating earlier than expected. Bishop must have accelerated the timeline when he realized we knew about the invasion.""How many?" Jacob demanded."Unclear. At least fifty confirmed contacts across multiple districts. Probably twice that number still unidentified."Jacob studied the map, seeing the pattern emerge. The attacks were not random—they targeted infrastructure that resistance forces would need for coordinated defense. Cut power and communications, and defending units could not communicate or coordinate responses effectively."Send runners to all def

They stood on the rooftop for several more minutes, neither wanting to return to the chaos below but knowing duty would not wait. Finally, Anna broke the silence."Take me somewhere," she said. "Away from the command center, away from the planning and preparations. Just for an hour before everything starts."Jacob knew they should stay at headquarters coordinating final defensive measures. But he also knew Anna was right—they might not have another chance for anything resembling normalcy. If they died tomorrow, let them at least have one final evening together."Where do you want to go?" Jacob asked."Our house," Anna said. "The one Bishop burned down. I want to see it."Jacob was surprised. The house Marcus had destroyed held painful memories—their brief time living as a married couple before war had consumed everything. But Anna seemed determined, so he borrowed a vehicle and drove them through darkening streets toward the residential district where their home had stood.The neighbo

The knowledge that a traitor existed within their command structure poisoned every interaction and decision. Jacob found himself second-guessing orders, wondering if the information would reach Argo within minutes of being issued. Leo implemented compartmentalization protocols—sharing operational details only with people who absolutely needed to know—but it created inefficiencies that slowed their preparation."We have maybe twelve hours before Argo crosses the border," Jacob told the assembled commanders during what might be their final planning session. "Use that time to prepare positions, stockpile ammunition, and drill your units on defensive protocols."The city was transforming into a fortress. Noble families who had pledged support were opening warehouses filled with supplies that could sustain prolonged conflict. Weapons were distributed to militia units composed of civilians with minimal training but fierce determination to defend their homes. Defensive barricades were erecte

Jacob stared at the Architect, weighing the cost of accepting an open-ended favor against the cost of losing the eastern districts without fight. Every instinct screamed this was a trap—agreeing to an undefined future obligation would give the Architect leverage that could be weaponized in countless ways."One favor," Jacob said finally. "With limitations. I will not harm innocents, commit crimes against civilians, or act against Seron's legitimate interests.""Agreed," the Architect replied immediately. "I have no interest in forcing you to violate your principles. Just the occasional assistance when my interests align with your capabilities."They shook hands, sealing an agreement Jacob suspected he would regret. But the eastern districts would now have defenders, which improved their strategic position significantly.While Roseline recruited fighters and Anna organized resources, Leo focused on the invisible war being fought through intelligence networks. Knowing enemy plans matter

mKelvin's public confession shocked everyone in the council chamber into stunned silence. Anna stood frozen, watching guards escort her uncle toward imprisonment while her mind struggled to process what had just happened. The man who had worked to destroy Seron was now voluntarily accepting punishment for his crimes."We should continue," Ben Tate said after several long moments, his voice steady despite having just witnessed his son-in-law's arrest. "The invasion does not pause for family drama."The council dispersed with new urgency, families rushing to contribute resources as promised. Anna found herself suddenly commanding wealth and influence she had never imagined possessing. The Tate family's holdings were substantial, and Kelvin's resignation meant she now controlled them completely.But while Anna worked with legitimate power structures, Roseline was approaching the problem from a completely different angle. Seron's criminal underworld represented a fighting force that most

The confrontation with Verons at the border had ended without bloodshed only because Jacob recognized a trap when he saw one. Verons had positioned forces Jacob could not see, waiting for him to make an aggressive move that would justify immediate retaliation. Instead, Jacob had withdrawn, accepting the humiliation of retreat rather than risk his entire team.But the encounter had confirmed something Jacob already suspected—this war had become intensely personal for Verons. The Argo commander was not just following orders or pursuing strategic objectives. He wanted Jacob to suffer before he died."We have maybe twenty-four hours before the invasion," Jacob said during the emergency briefing after returning to Seron. "Bishop's organization is disrupted but functional. Argo's forces are reduced but still overwhelming. We need something that changes the strategic balance."Anna had been working on exactly that problem through political channels while Jacob focused on military operations.

The observation deck at the top of the crystalline spire had become Jack's favorite place to think. From here, he could see the entire city spread out below—rebuilt stronger and more beautiful than it had ever been, filled with people living lives that would have been impossible without the protection his network provided.But tonight, as the dual moons cast silver light across the transformed skyline, Jack wasn't admiring their achievements. He was remembering where it all began."Hard to believe it started with Charles Oliver's execution," he said aloud, knowing his friends would hear him through their permanent mental link even though they were scattered across different dimensions on various missions."You mean it started with a weak boy nobody wanted," Lucy's voice replied warmly through their connection, her protective instincts wrapping around the memory with fierce affection.Jack smiled, pressing his hand against the medallion that had become part of his chest. The golden sur

The war room deep within the crystalline spire had become the nerve center for the most ambitious defensive project in dimensional history. Holographic displays showed the status of their entire universal cluster—thousands of realities connected by the portal network, each one now monitored by their expanded consciousness.Jack stood at the center of it all, no longer the weak boy who had once struggled to survive in a world that saw him as worthless. The medallion had become so integrated with his being that its golden surface was visible beneath his skin, pulsing with the rhythm of dimensional currents across countless worlds. But unlike the corrupt artifacts that had consumed previous wielders, his medallion was sustained by the bonds that connected him to his friends."Protocol Seven is now fully operational across all monitored dimensions," Sierra reported, her tactical awareness coordinating defensive measures on a scale that would have been incomprehensible months ago. "Early w

Six months after the dimensional crisis, their city bore little resemblance to the place that had nearly been destroyed by Vale's invasion. The rebuilding hadn't simply restored what was lost—it had created something entirely new.Where the old council headquarters had stood, a crystalline spire now reached toward the sky, its faceted surface designed to detect dimensional anomalies from hundreds of miles away. The building served as headquarters for the Dimensional Monitoring Initiative, the organization Jack and his friends had established to prevent future crises."Seventeen minor rifts detected across the northern sectors this week," Sierra reported during their morning briefing, her tactical awareness processing data streams that would have overwhelmed any individual mind. "All within normal parameters, but the frequency is increasing."Jack nodded, his consciousness simultaneously monitoring the reports while maintaining awareness of dimensional currents across their entire real

As the final seconds of his transformation ticked away, Jack felt his consciousness crystallize around a revelation that changed everything. The medallions' power didn't have to choose between perfect guardianship and human connection—it could create something entirely new."What if the burden doesn't have to be mine alone?" he said through their shared mental link, his voice carrying wonder despite his fading physical form. "What if we've been thinking about this wrong from the beginning?"Through their psychic connection, his friends felt his idea taking shape—not one guardian managing impossible responsibilities, but a network of consciousness that could handle the dimensional network's complexity while remaining anchored to humanity."You mean permanent integration?" Sierra breathed, her enhanced understanding immediately grasping the implications. "All of us linked directly to the dimensional network?""The ancient guardians failed because they became isolated from the people the

Jack's consciousness spread like spilled mercury across the dimensional network, his awareness touching worlds he'd never imagined. He could feel the pulse of life on countless planets, sense the delicate balance that held reality together, perceive threats to dimensional stability that existed light-years away.It was overwhelming and magnificent and terrifying all at once.Through his expanded perception, he could see their own world as just one node in an infinite web—small, fragile, but pulsing with the fierce determination of beings who refused to surrender to despair. He could feel Mrs. Sophie organizing relief efforts in the ruined city, Lord Rasmus's surviving soldiers helping with rescue operations despite their old conflicts, even the corrupted treasure hunters slowly recovering their humanity as the dimensional toxins were purged from their systems.But he could also feel himself slipping away from all of it. His connection to individual human concerns was fading as cosmic

The moment Jack's hand closed around Vale's dark medallion, reality screamed.Two opposing forces—one meant to protect, one designed to consume—collided within his consciousness with the fury of colliding stars. Jack felt his sense of self being torn apart and rebuilt simultaneously, his awareness expanding beyond the boundaries of single-dimensional existence.Vale's eyes widened in shock as his dark artifact began resonating with Jack's medallion, the two pieces fighting for dominance within the same host. "What are you doing, you fool? You'll destroy us both!""Maybe," Jack gasped, feeling the competing energies threaten to tear his mind apart. "But at least I'll take you with me."The dark medallion's hunger crashed against Jack's consciousness like a tidal wave of pure malevolence. It whispered promises of power beyond imagination, showed him visions of ruling infinite realities, offered him the ability to reshape existence according to his will. The corruption was overwhelming,