Holden Cross Novels & Stories

Adler’s came down the hall, and her usually brisk voice sounded cautious as she spoke with someone. “Mr. Blackwell,” Mrs. Adler said, appearing in the doorway, a bit flustered. “Mr. Cross is here.” He didn’t just enter the breakfast nook but also took it over. Damon Cross was tall, around six-three, with a lean, muscular build that hinted at a violent profession. He wore a plain but expensive gray suit that revealed a shoulder holster when he moved. His hair was cut short, his face marked by scars, including a thin white line through his left eyebrow. His cold, pale gray eyes currently scanning the room that included exit points, sightlines, and everything, including Sloane with the same det

Ethan said, stubborn, but the edge in his tone didn’t mask the hesitation. “You already did. That’s why your answer’s wrong,” Marcus said simply, like the truth of it should have been enough to make Ethan submit. Ethan froze, pen hovering over the page, and for the first time in the session, really looked down at what he’d written, letting the words and numbers sink in. Slowly, deliberately, he crossed something out, admitting, even if only to himself, that Marcus had been right. “…okay, that one doesn’t count,” he muttered, almost under his breath, almost unwillingly.

She liked her world like this; controlled, immaculate, and hers. Her assistant had just left the report on the collaboration between Duval Holdings and CrossTech, and Clarisse skimmed it with the cool efficiency of a surgeon. Numbers, timelines, projected returns, upcoming brief, it was all there. Damon Cross, as always, delivered results with a surgeon’s blade.

“Don’t mention the kidnapping lightly. I need answers. “Why did you transfer money to the kidnappers?” Harold and Margaret’s faces drained of color. Isolde laughed. She held my arm, eyes gleaming. “Your family really knows how to scheme. “Stage a kidnapping, cash in on a life-saving favor from Cassian, and shamelessly try to make him marry your disgusting daughter!” She covered her mouth to hide her grin. “Of course, I have no problem with second marriages in general, I just have a problem with one particular person.”

“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

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.

Jasper told me. “Psycho calm person say what now?” I retorted. “You have to distract him somehow,” he elaborated. “Yeah, I’m not about to kiss some stranger,” I said. “You have to do something Ava. Fenix doesn’t have time!” Holden exclaimed. I was wondering how he’d managed to fight this long to begin with, but Holden was right. He wasn’t even fighting anymore. I had to go against everything in me and reach out to hug Cas from behind.

“Something’s—” A loud metallic clang cut him off. Elena gasped. A chain of spiked metal—thick, heavy—had been stretched across the road ahead, partially hidden under debris and wet leaves. "Trap," Holden snarled. "A deliberate one." The car skidded, fishtailed, and came to a halt inches before slamming into a cluster of fallen tree branches. Holden didn’t hesitate. “Reverse,” he ordered. “Now.” But before the driver could shift gears—

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.

A tiny figure shot out from the shadows in the hallway, crashing into my arms. "Daddy!" Naomi cried, clutching my shirt as she buried her tiny face against it. "I missed you so much, Daddy… Please don't leave again…" I froze where I stood, my hand resting on her soft hair. My fingers brushed the curls—her natural waves, just like mine—and something in my stomach fluttered ever so slightly. When I looked up, Willow was standing near the stairwell, holding a bulging canvas bag. Stray hairs fell across her forehead, tousled by the wind.