Treasure Cussler Novels & Stories

Summoning every ounce of strength left, I jumped on and tore off toward our hideout. I slammed the door shut behind me and crumpled to the floor, breathless. Blood oozed from my arm, but I had no time for that then. I opened my hand to reveal the prize: a pink diamond, glinting with an otherworldly glow. "It's here. Now talk," I said. Old Fox, ever the cool customer, took the diamond, inspected it briefly in the light, and then pulled out a sealed dossier from his desk. "Everything you need to know about your guy is right here."

Another distant howl echoed through the forest. More hunters approaching. Darius cursed quietly. “We’re getting surrounded.” Trevor looked stressed beyond survival now. “I miss normal problems.” Nobody answered him. Because honestly? Same. Cassian slowly reached inside his coat. Every wolf around me tensed instantly. Then he pulled out— a necklace. Silver moonstone. Old. Worn. My breath caught sharply. I knew that necklace. Not from memory. From dreams. Dreams I had my entire life. A woman holding me while moonlight touched silver stone.

Cassian laughed, handed him a pistol, and said, “If your God loves you, tell Him to pull the trigger before I do.” The priest pulled it. Empty chamber. Cassian’s shot wasn’t. Another night, he personally executed the head of the Vasquez cartel for “insufficient tribute.” Then danced barefoot through the man’s wine cellar, humming La Donna È Mobile. It wasn’t madness. It was calculus. He was taking over broken empires to build a weapon of mass destruction—something ancient, tribal, unrelenting. He seized the remnants of the Andalusian Moretti allies in Córdoba. Took over the Da Cruz operation in Lisbon. Bribed and broke the ribs of old Russian arms smugglers who once supplied the De Rossis.

He never hid anything from me, which made what I found next a special kind of hell. I went straight to his bank transfers. Recipient: Carmen Rodriguez. Amount: $800,000. Memo: Deposit for the villa. My hand started to shake. It wasn’t just rage. It was a surge of adrenaline. A thrill, even. The kind you get when your body reacts before your brain can, knowing your life is about to blow up. I searched "Carmen" in his contacts and pulled up her social media. First post: an ultrasound photo. Caption: "My little angel, four months along."

I sip my water, though my hands are trembling, and pretend my world hasn’t already tilted on its axis. Cassian doesn’t move away. He doesn’t touch me either. He just stands there, close enough that I can smell leather and smoke and something else. Sandalwood? And I think. This is how it starts. This is how you lose yourself.

he said sneeringly, “But one thing is sure—you disgust me, Silver.” I turned to Amelia, a cold smirk tugged at her lips was unreadable as though her schemes under her sleeves were going well—to get Volvo for herself. Volvo Blackwood—An Alpha-blooded. Towering. Battle-scarred being. “Just leave.” ********** He stood close to the riverbank in nothing but black training trousers, his back shinning with sweat streaming down his skin. His shoulders were broad, tense. His silver eyes caught the moonlight, making him look like something carved from stone.

Cassius AKA Caz My twin brother and I just turned 22. As soon as we turned 19, Tristan found his mate, Trinity Henley, the alphas' daughter. I'm still waiting, but I'm not in a hurry. I like my solitude. I love to read and expand my knowledge. My brother is always teasing me about being a book nerd, but our moms love it. They get excited to buy me new books. I'll read anything, but my favorite books are full of mystery, action, and adventure.

"I didn't realize you went for rich billionaires now. Your niche a few years ago was rebellious bad boys with a truckload of trauma behind them." I laughed, still ruffled from the encounter I had a few minutes ago. Grandma started ticking her fingers. "Mommy issues, daddy issues." She grinned. "You name it. You're an expert at this." My grandma could be funny when she wanted to be. "He has a kid, a daughter, and he lives in the wealthiest part of the town. I hear he's a billionaire. I mean, he owns multiple chains of hotels and restaurants and he just bought this restaurant from Mr. Wang."

A few I didn’t need to know. A pair of Moroccan twins, mercenaries turned private arms dealers, stopped by first. They both shook my hand, spoke in code, and grinned before moving on to their table without delay. Right after them came Hassan el-Nouri, diamond trade king and quiet assassin. He greeted me with a brief embrace, one of his guards watching us like a hawk.

She had seen Caleb many times on television as the MD, but Cassian Holt was a different story altogether. Cassian Holt was a name that sparked both fear and admiration in the business world. Known for his unmatched influence and ruthless efficiency, he earned the title of an assassin for his precise and cold approach to eliminating obstacles. No one had ever seen his face—his true identity was a complete mystery. This secrecy only added to his fearsome reputation, making him a shadowy figure whose mere mention could unsettle even the most confident. Those who crossed him or fell into his web of influence often faced severe, unseen consequences.