Holden Cross Novels & Stories

Conri growls… “Cr-crossbreeds…You a-are in-indeed a c-catastrophe…Y-you must vanish or else…I must inform them-“ “Do you know what? Why crossbreeds remain legends?” “Yo-“ “It’s because…no one has ever lived after seeing them.” “Ug----kkk!” Conri pulls the ice bow from the Lighten’s knee and watches him slowly losing his breath. "Con, is it not done yet?" Royu flashes in front him like a flowing soundless lightning. "Yeah, let's go. Where is everyone?" Conri asks. "Matt is already cleaning the mess. What should we do after this?"

She lowered her eyes. A brief, awkward silence followed before Dev decided to keep the conversation going. “Remember Rocky, the German Shepherd?” “Uh-huh.” “Well, he didn’t stay on much after dad passed away.” “Where’d he go?” “Um… he too... crossed that ‘bridge’ you were talking about?” He air-quoted. “Oh, that’s… so bad.” Was he being funny? “Yes, it is. I’m sure that he’s in a great place though.” “True,” she commented.

Hatchett muttered as I craned my neck to watch Holden do his magic. “If you traveled as much as I do and had a boss who randomly calls for information, you learn to adjust,” Holden said, flashing me a playful smile. “There, got it.” “What exactly are we looking at here?” Torque asked as he leaned over the table to get a better look at Holden’s screen. “The territory around Moon Valley,” Holden said as everyone’s eyes narrowed to see the small three by two-inch screen. “Looks like a blob of greenery,” Hatchett said.

“Trina Hart did not leak internal documents from Cross Enterprises. She did not sell access. She did not commit fraud. The attacks against her name were part of a coordinated effort to weaponize deepfake technology, insider access, and old grudges.” He didn’t look back at her. He didn’t need to. He could feel her there. A hand shot up in the front row. A veteran reporter, one Adrian actually respected, leaned toward the mic stand. “Mr. Cross,” she called. “By handling this personally and publicly, you’re tying yourself to this scandal even more closely. Some of your board members have hinted they prefer a quieter resolution, or even a distancing from your relationship. Aren’t you risking you

“It’s the reason I got hired at the firm.” “That’s why your mother loves him?” “Oh yeah, and Mark is an acceptable choice for a Welsh.” I could see Alessio turning his head slightly to listen to our conversation. His eyes glanced back at me in the rearview mirror and I felt the intensity of his stare. “Who does your mother deem worthy of a Welsh?” Callie asked the question but I could feel Alessio’s eyes on my face, glancing between the road and me with a keen expression. We pulled into the parking lot and Alessio parked outside an industrial building. It was nondescript except for a large light-up sign with the words BCE Data.

Bianca was sold to a mafia lord at a very young age and all she could think about was getting revenge. Her plan was going well until the mafia lord's son, Nico, came into the picture. Nico was handsome and cold, brutal but calm. However, when he met Bianca, she brought out his troubled side. He didn't want her. She didn't care. In fact, she hated him. She felt he was emotionless and he felt she was too tough. Both were intrigued. ~♡~ "The only thing stopping me from taking you right here on this table, is that you belong to my father." His voice was tensed and I didn't need to see his face to know how he felt. "My father's whore." He added. I swallowed, hurt by his words. "You

There are beautiful stain glass windows of the grand gothic architectural style, running parallel to each other on either side of the hall. Each window has different symbols on them, of which some I recognize. There is a picture of a moon and opposite it is an eclipsed moon. The next set has the sun and eclipsed sun, followed by a strophols and serpent. Another set had Isis with wings showing her transformation into a bird and opposite is of a scorpion.

Was this all a calculated game, or was there an actual point to this madness? Holden sat back in his chair, his expression tight. “This is sentimental nonsense, Cross. We’re talking about hard numbers here, not coffee shops.” “And that’s why you’ll never beat me,” Damian said smoothly, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. “Because you think people are just numbers. I don’t.” Holden’s face reddened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he stood abruptly, motioning to his team. “We’ll reconsider our position and circle back with you next week.”

I assumed the farce had finally ended, but as I stood in the luxury boutique listening to the manager's report on last quarter's new arrivals, those same familiar leather soles echoed behind me once more. I turned, and there stood Thomas at the entrance, arm crossed with a scowl. "It's you again! Bumpkins and freaks have no business in high-end stores." He sauntered inside, sizing me up like discarded trash. "We don't sell cheap grocery bags here, old man." His gaze swept the displays before locking on the limited-edition crocodile-skin shoes in the clerk's hands. He said simply, "I'll take those." The clerk hesitated, glancing at me. "Sir..."

He crossed to the nurses’ station, spoke in low tones to the doctor, and stood off to the side with his arms crossed. He was here for Ethan. Not for me. The distance was deliberate, and it carved through me deeper than any words. --- Finally, after what felt like hours but must have been minutes, a doctor approached. Everyone rose at once. “Ethan Cole is stable,” she said, her tone brisk but gentle. “He suffered a severe flare-up from an old injury. He pushed far beyond safe limits tonight, and his body gave out under the strain.” Stable. The word should have been enough. But the rest of it — old injury, unsafe, gave out — lodged like shards in my chest.