Novels by Rachel Holt

Ethan walked across the study and dropped the bag onto Edmund's desk.Edmund opened it carefully and pulled out the documents. He spread them across the desk, examining each one. Financial records. Bank transfers. Contracts with signatures. Emails printed on company letterhead.His eyes moved quickly over the pages. Reading. Verifying.After several minutes, he looked up at Ethan."These are authentic," Edmund said. "You actually did it."Ethan said nothing. Just waited.Edmund leaned back in his chair, studying Ethan more carefully now. The blood on his shoulder. The torn clothes. The exhaustion visible in his eyes despite his steady posture."Russo's compound was supposed to have twenty guards," Edmund said slowly. "How many were there?""At least thirty. Maybe more."Edmund's expression darkened. "Someone must have told him you were coming.""Yes.""Do you know who?""No."Edmund was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. "But you still succeeded. Against impossible odds. That is impr

Twenty guards surrounded Ethan with weapons raised.The room was silent except for the sound of breathing and the faint crackle of radios.One of the guards stepped forward. "Put the bag down. Slowly."Ethan looked at him. Then at the others. Calculating distances. Angles. Weaknesses."Last warning," the guard said. "Put it down or—"Ethan moved.He was faster than any of them expected. His hand shot out and grabbed the barrel of the closest guard's rifle, twisting it sideways. The guard's finger was still on the trigger. The gun fired, the bullet going wide, hitting the ceiling.Ethan yanked the rifle from the guard's hands and swung it like a club, striking two guards across their faces. They dropped instantly.Chaos erupted.The other guards tried to aim, but they were packed too tightly in the room. Afraid to shoot each other.Ethan did not give them time to adjust.He threw the rifle at one guard's head, knocked him unconscious, then charged forward into the group near the door.

Ethan moved toward the compound wall.Thirty guards visible. Triple the number Edmund's intelligence reported. They were positioned strategically, not on standard patrols. Watching. Waiting.Someone had warned them.But Lily had less than forty-eight hours left.He had no choice.Ethan approached from the northwest corner where two camera angles did not quite meet. He pressed his back against the wall and listened.Footsteps on the other side. A guard walking slowly past.Ethan waited until the footsteps faded. Then he jumped, caught the top of the wall, pulled himself up in one smooth motion. His body cleared the razor wire by inches. He dropped down on the other side, landing silently.The compound grounds were darker here. Trees and bushes provided cover.Ethan moved quickly toward the main building. Three stories. Dark windows. According to the blueprints, Russo's office was on the second floor, east side. The safe was behind a painting.He reached a side door and crouched beside

David Park sat in his car across the street from the Drake estate, camera in hand.He had been following Ethan Cross for three hours. From the library to the Drake family gates. Now he waited.Forty minutes later, Ethan emerged from the main house. He was carrying a folder. His expression was serious.David raised his camera and took several shots.Ethan flagged down a taxi and left.David immediately called Vivian.She answered on the first ring. "What did you find?""He just left the Drake estate. Second meeting with Edmund Drake in less than a week. And he was carrying documents.""What kind of documents?""I could not see clearly. But whatever Edmund Drake gave him, it looked important."Vivian was quiet for a moment. "Stay on him. Find out where he goes next.""Already following."David started his car and pulled out, keeping three cars behind the taxi.---Twenty minutes later, Vivian sat in the motel room with Marcus.Her phone buzzed again. Another message from David.*Target

Ethan sat in the taxi, his mind racing through everything the old man had taught him in prison. Moonlight Serpent Root. He had remembered the name in the hospital. But remembering a name was not enough. He needed to understand how to use it properly. "Pull over here," Ethan told the driver. They stopped at a small library. Ethan paid and went inside. The medical section was on the third floor. Ethan found what he needed quickly. Old texts on traditional Chinese medicine. Rare herb cultivation. Toxin neutralization techniques. He sat at a table and began reading. Moonlight Serpent Root grew only in high-altitude regions with specific soil conditions. It was harvested once every three years. The root itself was pale white, almost translucent, and had to be processed within seventy-two hours of harvesting or it lost its medicinal properties. Most importantly, it was one of only three known herbs that could neutralize deep-tissue blood poisons that bonded with nerve cells. Exactly

Vivian Hart sat on the edge of the bed in Marcus Ashford's cramped motel room, staring at her phone. Three days ago, she had been living in a luxury apartment. Wearing designer clothes. Attending exclusive parties. Now she was here. In a cheap motel that smelled like cigarettes and mildew. Sharing a room with Marcus, who barely had enough money left to pay for another week. Her phone buzzed. New message from David Park. The private investigator she had hired. Have new photos. Can meet in 20 minutes. Vivian's heart raced. Finally. She had been waiting for this. She stood quickly. "Marcus. Get dressed. The investigator has something." Marcus was lying on the other bed, scrolling through his phone listlessly. He had been like this for days. Defeated and broken. Ever since being fired from Sterling Global and humiliated at the club. "What?" he said without looking up. "I said get dressed. We are meeting the investigator." Marcus finally looked at her. "What is the point, Vivian

Jacob lunged toward Verons, mystical energy gathering in his hands for a strike that would end the tyrant's life. But Verons had not survived decades of brutal politics and warfare by being slow or unprepared.He whistled sharply, and the guards who had frozen in the doorway snapped into coordinated action. They were not ordinary soldiers. These were specialists trained specifically to handle mystical threats, and they moved with the confidence of people who had done this before.Nets woven with suppression enchantments flew through the air from multiple directions. Jacob tried to dodge but the chamber was too confined, the nets too well-coordinated. They wrapped around him, and the moment the enchanted material touched his skin he felt his mystical energy disrupting, fracturing, becoming impossible to control properly.He still fought. Even weakened, even tangled in nets designed to neutralize his abilities, Jacob was dangerous. He threw two guards into walls hard enough to crack sto

Verons's smile widened, showing teeth like a predator who had finally cornered his prey. "So you do remember. Good. It would have been disappointing if my brother's death meant so little to you that it faded into just another forgotten battle.""He died honorably," Jacob said. "Fighting for what he believed in. His death was clean and quick.""Clean?" Verons's voice dropped to something dangerous. "Quick? You speak as if those qualities make his murder acceptable. As if honor somehow balances the scales of taking my only family."He walked to the wall and selected a long blade from the torture implements displayed there, testing its edge with professional appreciation. "My brother was the finest warrior our family had produced in three generations. He should have lived to lead armies, to shape nations, to father sons who would carry our bloodline forward. Instead he died in frozen mud fighting someone else's war because you were too skilled for him to defeat.""War has casualties," Ja

The descent seemed endless. Down stone stairs worn smooth by centuries of prisoners dragged to their fate, past cells where skeletal hands reached through bars, through corridors that grew progressively darker and colder until they reached a level that felt more like a tomb than a prison.The guards stopped before a reinforced door. One of them produced an ornate key and unlocked multiple mechanisms with practiced efficiency. The door swung open to reveal a chamber that made Jacob's stomach turn.This was not a cell. This was a torture room designed by someone who understood pain intimately. Chains hung from walls at heights calculated to maximize joint stress. Tables bore implements whose purposes were horrifyingly obvious. Drains in the floor spoke of cleaning blood that flowed regularly enough to require permanent infrastructure."Welcome to your new home," the officer said, showing genuine pleasure at their discomfort. "Lord Verons will be down shortly. I suggest you use the time

The plan had changed during final preparations. Jacob realized that even with the diversionary assault, penetrating the throne room's defenses while Verons was on high alert was nearly impossible. But there was another approach—one that turned their enemy's expectations against him."Verons wants to capture us," Jacob explained to the team. "He said so himself. He needs us alive for the binding ritual, needs our blood to unlock the artifacts' full potential. So we give him exactly what he wants."Anna understood immediately. "We let ourselves be captured.""Intentionally. We allow guards to find us, take us prisoner, bring us into the palace as captives rather than infiltrators. Once inside Verons's dungeons, we break out from within while the assault team creates chaos above."It was insane. Trusting that Verons would not simply kill them on sight, betting that his need for the ritual would keep them alive long enough to escape. But it was also the only approach that might actually w

The debate stretched through the night as they analyzed every possible approach to the palace. Jacob spread intelligence reports across the tunnel floor—guard rotations, patrol patterns, defensive positions compiled from Thomas's military knowledge and information purchased from his cousin in the palace kitchens."Direct assault is impossible," Leo stated flatly. "They have three hundred guards on duty at any given time. We have twenty-two fighters, most of us wounded or exhausted. The mathematics do not work.""Stealth infiltration then," someone suggested. "Use the tunnels to get close, eliminate guards silently, reach the throne room before they realize we are there."Roseline shook her head. "Verons is expecting infiltration. He said so himself. The moment we engage even one guard, alarms sound and the entire palace responds. We would be trapped underground with no escape route."Anna traced ward patterns on her makeshift map. "The mystical defenses complicate everything. Even if

They retreated back through the hidden gallery, descending into the tunnels before anyone could speak. The observation had confirmed what they needed to know but also revealed how thoroughly Verons had prepared for their arrival. Every advantage Jacob thought they possessed was actually part of an elaborate trap.Once they reached a secure section of tunnel far from potential listening points, the team gathered to process what they had witnessed."He knows we are coming," Leo said, stating the obvious. "This entire mission is compromised.""Has been from the start," Roseline added. "Verons has been herding us exactly where he wants us. The question is whether we spring his trap or abort the mission entirely."Jacob studied the rough map Anna had drawn of the palace layout, marking where the artifacts were positioned. Both pieces in the throne room, displayed openly as bait. Guards positioned at strategic points. And Verons himself waiting like a spider in the center of his web."We ca

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,