Honor E-Book

M. Findley

• Herausgeber: M. Findley
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Two secret societies, fighting for control of a technology that could alter the fate of the world.
An assassin, bound to protect knowledge left long ago by visitors from another galaxy.
And a woman, caught in the crossfire...

Ever since Isaac met Rachel, he hated her—not for any good reason, but solely for her entanglement with his baby brother, Adam. But now, he despised her for an entirely different reason. Adam’s coma. It’s her fault, and all he needs to do is prove it.

Rachel is at her wits' end. She has her hands full between trying to find a cure for Adam, solving the riddle of the USB, and unraveling the mystery around Zach. Not to mention, Isaac still hates her, and she doesn’t know why.

But as the days progress and secrets reveal themselves, she finds hope that her would-be brother-in-law can thaw toward her and, if not become friends, then at least not be enemies.

Now, with new foes to face, secrets to unlock, and deaths to mourn, only one thing is certain. Life in the Order is never easy, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.

Leseprobe

HONOR

SHADOW WAR

BOOK 3

M FINDLEY

By M. Findley

Published by Artistic License Publishing, LLC

Copyright: 2025 by M. Findley. All rights reserved.

First Edition: January 2025

This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please buy a copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional.

The copyright laws of the United States of America protect this book. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

On the Back

Trigger Warnings / Content Warnings

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Contact Me

ON THE BACK

Two secret societies, fighting for control of a technology that could alter the fate of the world.

An assassin, bound to protect knowledge left long ago by visitors from another galaxy.

And a woman, caught in the crossfire...

Ever since Isaac met Rachel, he hated her—not for any good reason, but solely for her entanglement with his baby brother, Adam. But now, he despised her for an entirely different reason. Adam’s coma. It’s her fault, and all he needs to do is prove it.

Rachel is at her wits' end. She has her hands full between trying to find a cure for Adam, solving the riddle of the USB, and unraveling the mystery around Zach. Not to mention, Isaac still hates her, and she doesn’t know why.

But as the days progress and secrets reveal themselves, she finds hope that her would-be brother-in-law can thaw toward her and, if not become friends, then at least not be enemies.

Now, with new foes to face, secrets to unlock, and deaths to mourn, only one thing is certain. Life in the Order is never easy, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.

TRIGGER WARNINGS / CONTENT WARNINGS

Dear reader,

The following themes are present in this novel. If these subjects are difficult for you, or you are unable to read about them at this time, please skip this book and take care of yourself.

I’ll see you in the next one.

BullyingViolenceBloodGoreHuman DeathSuicidal IdeationSuicideLanguageHomophobiaMental Health CrisisDrinking/AlcoholismDescription of animal deathFuneralsHospital

PROLOGUE

The click of Vicky’s high heels against the marble of her foyer filled her with satisfaction. She loved the sound. Forceful. Purposeful. Powerful.

Exiting the hall, she descended the stairs to her basement, where she conducted all her less traditional business.

“Bring him in,” she commanded her guard.

The captain nodded once to acknowledge her and then, with a flick of his wrist, ordered one of his men to do her bidding.

As the underling left, Vicky took a seat in a leather armchair. Her personal assistant, Ryan, took his position behind her. Typically, she’d want to sit on her dais to be higher than her visitor, but today, she wanted to set her visitor at ease. Vicky smiled. Her guest was dangerous, but not in the way of a Hashashin or even as intimidating as one of her Organization guards, but he did deal with some of the worst scum the world could offer, and for that, he was owed some flavor of respect.

Vicky situated her skirt, crossed her feet at her ankles, fluffed her hair, and waited, pleased to finally have this meeting. It had been over a week since she’d received the news of his arrival in the United States, and it had taken her that long to clear her schedule and fly after him. She’d kept him in a ritzy one-bedroom flat in downtown New York City. Not that he’d known the location. She’d covered over the flat's windows the day she’d bought the residence. All her… less savory visitors were given shelter there, and her current guest had been no exception.

Nearly ten minutes later, the basement door opened, and the guard returned, guiding the man in front of him since the guest couldn’t see. As a precaution, the prisoner’s head had been covered by an opaque bag to prevent him from gaining any prior knowledge of his fate or location. After depositing the man to a spot before her, the guard stepped back, leaving her prisoner in the dark of his mask, bereft of stimulus and thusly unstable.

He stood there, stoic.

He is brave, she thought, giving him credit where credit was due. Her tactics were deliberately unsettling, yet her guest barely twitched. He didn’t take panicked breaths, flail about, or cry.

He merely… Waited.

Vicky let him stew for several moments. Finally, when he reached for something, anything, she signaled her guard. Her guard gently touched the guest’s shoulder before loosening the bag from her prisoner’s head.

As the blindfold came off, the guest blinked, clearing his vision. He jerked back when he recognized her. “Ms. Sanders?!”

She inclined her head. “Always the polite one, Abhay,” she replied. “But please call me Vicky. Ms. Sanders is much too formal and makes me think of my mother.”

“Why have you brought me here?”

Vicky waved her hand toward a chair, offering him the option to sit. Abhay cocked an eyebrow at her but accepted her invitation. After sitting, he asked, “Why have you brought me here?”

“I want you to return my daughter to me, destroy my ex, and bring down the Order of the Guardians for God.” She shrugged. “Of course, not necessarily in that order.”

Abhay blinked.

Vicky waited.

Eventually, Abhay cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Come again?”

She smiled. “You know, Abhay? That politeness. That is why I always liked you.”

Hesitantly, he thanked her.

Vicky pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. She confirmed the name on the slip was the one she’d learned from her “source” and then slid it to Abhay across the end table. “I do believe you are the supplier of this?”

He picked it up and read it. Abhay returned the paper to the end table and placed his hands in his lap. He laced his fingers and returned her gaze. “I can neither confirm nor deny this information.”

Vicky nearly laughed. “I do not know how you obtained it—” Not exactly, though she had a few suspicions. “—and frankly do not care.” She leaned forward, eager for the next step in her plan. “I’ve been watching you for a while. I know what you are capable of, Abhay Kulkarni, Amar Jaya, Misra Kunti, Ajit Kumar,” she said, listing only a few of his known aliases.

She sat back, pleased to note his skin had paled. She appreciated his “gifts”, true, but Vicky never wanted him to forget she was the more vicious of the two of them.

“I want you to find my daughter and return her. My ex has taken her to ground… Again… I want him destroyed. Killed. And unlike the two attempts made by Hashashin Black, you will succeed in getting rid of my ex. Do you understand me?” Abhay nodded once.

On a whim, she added, “While you are at it, I want you to eliminate the Hashashin Black.” She paused, then snorted. “Hard to believe, he’s their best. Failing to accomplish his mission of killing my ex. Twice! Despite my best efforts to help.”

Vicky sighed, shaking her head. Returning to her original demands, she said, “This name you supplied is merely the first step in destroying the Order. With it and the weapon schematics you’ve sold me, we should be on our way to ridding the world of this vermin.”

After a long silence, Abhay asked, “Do you understand yen and yang, Ms. Sanders?”

“Yes. And it’s Vicky,” she said, curious where he was taking this.

“Then you know that even if the Order is annihilated, someone else will take their place? Life’s balance will be kept. It is the way of things.”

Vicky snickered. “Not if we keep killing them.” Abhay didn’t even flinch at the proclamation. Fascinating, she thought. She waved her hand dismissively. “Provide me what I ask, and I will make sure you are never found by them—at least until they are eradicated, and then it won’t matter anymore.”

“Ms. Sanders⁠—”

She sighed. Cutting him off, she said, “Enough.” Returning her hands to her lap, she signaled her guard. The captain unholstered his gun, flipped off the safety, and brought it to Abhay’s head. Abhay’s eyelids narrowed but otherwise didn’t react to the threat.

Her respect for him grew.

“Mr. Kulkarni,” she chided. “Please don’t make me buy new furniture.” She caressed the leather. “I happen to like this set.” Her words weren’t said for effect. She did love this couch. The leather was butter-soft.

He swallowed hard.

Returning her focus to Abhay, she said, “I will give you a day to think about it. Retrieve Liz, kill Adam and my ex, destroy the Order. This is what I ask. In exchange, you will live.” Addressing her captain, she said, “Take him back to the flat.” The captain nodded, and a second before the bag was replaced over Abhay’s head, she reiterated the order, “Think about it.”

As Abhay left, Ryan sat next to her in the now-vacated armchair. “He’ll try to run,” Ryan cautioned.

Vicky sighed, leaning back in her chair. Her fingers traced the stitching. “I know.”

“Do you want to let him?”

Good question. “Yes. But increase his guard. Don’t make it easy for him. Ensure he is followed everywhere he goes. I don’t even want him to sneeze without us knowing about it.”

“Understood,” Ryan said, standing.

Vicky watched as he left. Despite paying him, she considered Ryan to be her closest friend.

She shifted her attention to the empty chair where Abhay had sat and thought about her plan. She clenched her hands in tight fists. If everything proceeded without a hitch, she’d be guaranteed a spot on the High Council, proving to every one of her detractors—her mother and her ex included—that she belonged there!

CHAPTERONE

Isaac stepped into the infirmary. It was cold and sterile, and since Adam’s accident, Isaac hated coming here. His finger rubbed at the scar on his forearm through his shirt. It itched whenever he went to the medical wing.

Making for Adam’s room, he entered, and his gaze sought and found Rachel sitting by his brother’s side. He rolled his eyes, irritated. His brother’s useless piece of arse was in the room again, sitting next to him with her laptop on her lap and a coffee in her hand. She was probably using the device to visit online shops and most likely buying something frivolous at that very moment. For the love of Allah, didn’t she have anything better to do than to spend the Order’s money? Isaac sighed. He supposed not. It wasn’t as if she could fuck Adam while he lay there in a coma.

Maybe if she sucked him off, he’d wake up—the useless slag.

“Get out,” he ordered, and she jumped, slopping coffee over the cup’s rim and down her hand. Isaac smirked as she wiped the mess with a napkin before closing her laptop. He had to bite back an angry quip at her delaying tactics. Man, he hated her. “I said, get out.”

Her gaze flashed with internal fire, and she replied, “I heard you, Isaac.”

He ground his teeth. Her light and airy voice reminded him of sunshine and church bells. He suppressed a shudder.

“And, no, I won’t leave,” she continued. “I have every right to be here as you do.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed hard. The nerve! She would drive him bonkers if he had to deal with her much longer. Forcing his tone into an inflectionless murmur, he—with extreme effort—forced himself to ask, “Please?” in his most polite voice. Even to his ears, it sounded strained and insincere.

“Since you asked so nicely, yes,” she said before leaning over Adam and kissing his lips. “I’ll see you later,” Rachel whispered before standing and leaving. Isaac glared at her the entire time. He even gave the closed door a dirty look.

Bugger her to hell, he thought uncharitably. With effort, he let his anger go, and after a deep breath, he turned back to contemplate Adam, where he rested on the hospital bed. Isaac firmed his stance. Strength. Competence. Power. He tried to remember his former Hashashin training, but he couldn’t help thinking that if it weren’t for that piece of trim trying to take advantage of Adam’s success, Adam wouldn’t be here.

The Hashashin mantra wasn’t working.

Grinding his teeth together, Isaac took note of the devices keeping his brother alive. Nearly two weeks ago, the doctors had removed Adam’s life-sustaining equipment in preparation for waking him from his medically induced coma, but when he showed signs of distress, they replaced everything. Adam’s status hadn’t changed since. Isaac and Cass visited daily, hoping and praying, but they were losing faith. They’d even discussed pulling him from life support, but Rachel disagreed. Isaac’s lip curled up in a snarl. Apparently, a “wife’s” approval trumped the family’s wishes. With Adam and Rachel’s recent relationship being sanctioned, Rachel had the final say in whether or not Adam stayed hooked up to the machines.

That “say” was, of course, a “No.”

Rachel swore Adam would recover. She promised he’d wake up, but Isaac didn’t believe her. Not anymore. Not after two weeks of forced life. His brother—a competent, fun-loving, charismatic copy of their father Saif—was lost to them.

Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to find a measure of calm. Once his pulse was under control, he sat in the seat Rachel vacated. It was still warm from her body heat.

His lips thinned, disgusted, and he shifted his weight. The thinly padded seat made his hip ache from an old injury. Isaac tried to ignore the pain and picked up Adam’s hand. The bruising under Adam’s skin was better—less noticeable, at least—too bad that healing didn’t translate into breathing on his own.

Sighing, Isaac began his usual litany, hoping to make his brother angry enough to wake up. “Your petition came through two weeks ago,” he began. “You can fuck your trainee with impunity now,” he said. “Not that not having the approval stopped you before, but now, you won’t get in trouble for it.”

Isaac waited. No change.

“She’s a disgrace.”

Still nothing.

“Did you know Mark Prescott is here?” Again, he paused, hoping for a change. When none came, he continued, “Apparently, he showed up at a London safe house crying ‘Sanctuary’. He seems to think the Org is after him and that coming here was the best and safest option for him and his daughter.”

Isaac snorted and then waited.

Adam didn’t react. Not even a blip on the heart monitor.

“I don’t know much,” Isaac said. “They won’t tell me anything anymore. Hell, I don’t even know the acting Polemarchos’s real name. I recognize him… I… I know I knew him and that my lack of memory is for his safety, but…” Isaac shook his head, knowing he wouldn’t remember no matter how hard he tried. The Order didn’t employ the alien technology lightly, but there were a few things they utilized. The one to remove memories was a bit too potent, and he hated knowing it had been used on him. It was his fault—he should never have hidden his mistakes and lied to the Order—but it rankled all the same.

Isaac sighed, dropped Adam’s hand, and changed the subject, “The Antipolemarchos is keeping your Lokhagos position open for now. Everyone is so sure you will wake up. Antipolemarchos. Your trim. Polemarchos.”

He waited. Several minutes passed before he breathed deeply, leaned forward, and begged, “Adam? Please wake up. We need you. I need you.” He waited a few minutes more. When nothing changed, Isaac sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. “They moved Marco and Dimitri to rooms nearby. If you woke up, you could visit with them. They’re right down the hall.”

Nothing.

Isaac didn’t know what else to do.

Anger grew, and he yelled, furious, “You stupid pillock! Wake up!”

One of Adam’s machines blipped, and Isaac stared. Riveted. His heart pounded with excitement. Was Adam waking?

Isaac watched as the abnormal spike slowly slipped to the left and off the screen. His shoulders drooped. No change. He covered his eyes with his hands. The thought that he should be in this hospital bed instead of Adam came to him again. No one would have missed him. He wasn’t on track to rule the Hashashin branch of the Order. He wasn’t a darling who could do no wrong and was worshiped by all. He wasn’t the best Hashashin the Order ever trained.

Isaac wasn’t anything at all.

For fuck’s sake, he needed a drink.

“Isaac,” Cassandra called from the door.

He ignored her.

“It is time for your session.”

Isaac swallowed back a groan and stood. “Until tomorrow, brother,” he said.

After touching Adam’s healing arm, he left.

* * *

Rachel stood and hurried back into Adam’s room when Isaac vacated it. “I’m here,” she said, returning to her seat. The desire to be near him nearly twenty-four-seven burned in her chest, like heartburn after eating a particularly cheap pizza.

Mmm. Pizza.

Opening her laptop, she returned to her work.

Slowly, she woke from her focus and looked up.

“Hey, Rach,” Zach said with a slight wave. He sat on Adam’s other side.

Rachel twitched in suppressed surprise. “When did you get here?”

Zach laughed and held up a book. His finger marked a place nearly halfway through it as if that was an accurate indicator of time. “An hour or so ago,” he answered.

“Really?” she inquired, and that was when she noticed the glint of metal in his earlobe. She leaned closer, then set her PC down before walking around the bed to him. She touched the edge of his ear, right next to the small piece of metal coming out of it. “You pierced your ears?” she asked, incredulous. “Isn’t that… like… against the rules?”

Zach grinned and leaned toward Adam. “Sure is. If I ever got into a fight, someone could grab me by these gauges and yank.” He paused. “Sure would have been nice if someone with that kind of experience had been around to stop me.” Leaning back, Zach winked. “It will take many weeks of stretching before I can get actual gauges.” He picked up his book. “That’ll give sleeping beauty plenty of time to wake up and read me the riot act over it.”

Rachel sputtered. “You pierced your ears to try to bait him into waking?”

Zach made a face at her. “Maybe. Or maybe I like them. Big. Fat. Holes. In my ears. Gauges.”

She felt faint.

“You have gauges…” She gulped. ZT had long scars on his ears, almost as if he’d repaired the damage done to his lobes from gauges. She glanced at Zach. But that meant that current Zach would have to have the piercings long enough to stretch the skin wide enough to need repair. She turned her gaze to Adam on the bed. How long would he be in the coma?

“It won’t work,” she whispered.

“Rach?”

She shook her head. “You…”

“Rach?”

Rachel grimaced. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”

“Okay,” Zach said hesitantly. “Why don’t you go to the cafeteria, get some food, and take a shower.”

She snorted. “You saying I stink again?”

“Not exactly…”

Rachel sighed.

“You need to leave this room some. Talk to someone other than me, Adam, or Isaac. Find Cass if you need to. Just… Do something else for a while, okay? It’s not healthy for you to stay here day in and day out.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I worry about you, Rach.”

She glanced at him and nodded. He was right. She did need to leave the hospital room more often than she did. This statement was true in theory, but it was hard to implement when she worried she’d miss Adam waking up. “Okay. Sure,” she said, hibernating her PC. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” she said, tucking the laptop under her arm and grabbing her mug. “Need anything?”

Zach’s smile was tentative, though genuine. “No.”

She grunted and left the room.

In the hall, she paused to find her bearings. “Cafeteria that way,” she murmured, pointing. “Library that way,” she said, indicating the hall parallel to the one she stood in. That means my room is…” She wavered her hand as if it were a divining rod determining the nearest location of water. That way,” she said and began walking.

Once in her room, she coughed. Her room had been disused for too long, and it stank—a mixture of stale air and dust. Maybe housekeeping could help her freshen up the place. It had been a shock to learn that the unsanctioned room searches Rachel had suffered through when she first arrived at the Fortress had been Simon all along. Security had captured video of him entering and exiting her room on multiple occurrences. Common thought by the few who knew about the USB drive believed that he’d been looking for it because why else would he have been in her room repeatedly? Rachel shuddered, and her fingers touched her cheek in the subconscious memory of the beating she’d received at Simon’s hand in London.

Shedding her clothes, she entered the bathroom and turned on the shower. While the water heated, she stared at herself in the mirror. She was gaunt again, exactly like when she’d been in isolation and had stopped eating so she could die.

Her breath grew shallow and rapid. She remembered how long the days were and how the nights felt even longer, the constant questioning, probing, and infernal white noise from the overhead speakers. Rachel wrapped her arms around her bare torso, curling in on herself. Tears fell. It had been so awful.

She had no idea how long she’d stood there, staring at her reflection, but eventually, she returned from her memories to a room full of steam and a fogged-over mirror. Shaking herself, she tried to uncoil her tense frame. Aching, Rachel stumbled as she climbed into the shower, and tears sprang to her eyes as she stubbed her toe on the lip of the shower door rail. “Mother puss bucket,” she growled, rubbing her toe and easing into the spray.

After a very quick shower—a necessity due to the cooling water—she dried and left for the cafeteria. She made it as far as Adam’s door next to hers before stopping. Grabbing the handle, she tried to open the door to his room, but it didn’t budge.

On a whim, she swiped her room key in his door lock. They had the Order’s permission to be a couple now, and maybe…

The lock turned green.

Holy shit! She could get into his room!

She pushed the door open a crack.

His room smelled equally as dank, dark, and dirty from disuse.

Hustling back to her bedroom, she tossed all her belongings into her travel bag and lugged it to Adam’s room. He’d been here, and if she had to leave his side at the infirmary, coming to his room and sleeping on the bed he’d used would have to be good enough.

As she entered his room, she spied something on the bedspread.

Approaching the bed, she saw it was a photograph.

She set her bag on the floor and picked up the picture.

A very young, smirking Adam stared back at her. Next to him, and in the middle of the photo, was a baby-faced Simon. Surprisingly, his hair was long, nearly to his ears. Rachel thought all Hashashin kept their hair short enough to be considered bald. But it wasn’t his hair that genuinely caught her attention. It was his expression that drew her. She’d never seen Simon so… happy. He was staring adoringly at a third young man.

Shaking her head, she studied the unknown man. His head was in profile, and his mouth was open as if the photographer had caught him a mid-word. He appeared to be speaking to Adam and not Simon. He had a skater hairstyle, tied back in a high ponytail with a shaved scalp on the lower half of his skull. He had a discoloration on his cheek from his temple to his nostril. Rachel wondered if it was a scar, a beauty mark, or a bruise. If it was a bruise, how had he been injured? All three of them were in casual attire, dark hoodies and T-shirts. She couldn’t see their vambraces but assumed they wore them.

Unable to look away from the skater boy, Rachel whispered her assumption, “The infamous Lee, I presume.” He was cute, but then so were Simon and Adam.

Rachel put the photo down. Then, with her nail, she flipped it over to look at the back. Nothing. No dates or identifiers. That didn’t surprise her. What did was that there was a photograph at all. It seemed dangerous to have so many visual records of their assassins or agents, but on second thought, maybe not. The Order didn’t seem opposed to living life and using modern conveniences, just against understanding and using alien technology.

She turned the photo back over and looked at Adam again. Rachel had difficulty getting past how young and different he looked without his facial scars. His hair was also longer than he wore it now. It was messy on his head, almost like he’d been given a noogie moments before and had yet to straighten it.

Rachel wondered when the image had been taken. The three young men looked so innocent and carefree, nothing at all like the trained killers they were later in life. Idly, she wondered how many men Adam had murdered by the time this photo had been taken. From his story about Lee, she knew that Simon and Lee had been an official couple for many years before Lee’s death barely three years ago, but Adam looked young enough in this photo to be a teenager. Was he still a novice in it? Trained but not yet tried?

She didn’t know.

Picking it up, she set it against the lamp on the nightstand. When he woke from his coma, she’d ask him.

After another glance at the healthy Adam portrayed in the image, Rachel exited the room. She would get some food and then return to the infirmary.

* * *

“Vicky,” Ryan called.

“Mm,” she replied, looking up from the paperwork on her desk.

“I have a report from the High Council for you.”

Vicky took the document from him and then read. It took her two tries to absorb its contents thoroughly. Inside, it identified a new potential threat to the Organization. Several criminals associated with Abhay Kulkarni had been assassinated in the past week—knife wounds to the heart. The Order was believed to be responsible, though no motive had been identified.

Well, that was interesting. It appeared that someone in the Order knew—or at least suspected—Abhay was up to something, and they were taking steps to get to him. Of course, that didn’t have to be true. The deaths of the associates could be due to a rogue actor. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had played both sides. Hell, even she’d done it. Granted, each time had been due to her wanting her asshole of an ex removed, and she’d seen no other way to accomplish the goal without it coming back to her involvement.