Updates and Free Fiction

---

Hey everyone! Craig Hart, here. I want to start by expressing my sincere gratitude for your support with the launch of Tibetan Gambit. As an author, there's always the fear that a book launch will be met with nothing but cricket noises—that wasn't the case this time, and I'm deeply thankful for that. I appreciate your enthusiasm and support, and I hope you're all enjoying the book!

I'd like to share a few other updates.

On Black Friday, we launched another book that I co-wrote with Nick Thacker called The Forbidden Isle. You can find it on Amazon!

Additionally, Mayan Shadows—the first book in the Maxwell Barnes Adventure Thriller series—is now available for free across all platforms, for the foreseeable future. You can get it not just on Amazon, but also on Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo, and other platforms. If you've been considering diving into this series but weren't quite sure, now's the perfect opportunity.

Finally, our move to Substack has opened up exciting new possibilities, including these video updates, which I've thoroughly enjoyed creating and hope you've enjoyed watching. I'm also launching some Substack-exclusive fiction content. The first piece, which I'm releasing today, is the beginning of either a short story or novella—I'm not yet sure of its final length—featuring Shelby Alexander. You'll find both the text and an audio recording of me reading it below, so you can choose to read it, listen to it, or do both simultaneously.

If you know anyone who might enjoy this content, please spread the word. Unlike our previous email provider, we're no longer restricted by tiers, so there's no limit to how many people can join our community. The more, the merrier!

I want to thank you again for staying with me through this transition to Substack. I know it might have been jarring for many of you—and honestly, for me too. I still catch myself calling it a mailing list, and while it technically is since you receive email notifications, it's so much more than that—it's a comprehensive platform. The change has been significant but overwhelmingly positive, and I'm excited to explore its potential further.

Thank you all very much! Enjoy the content, and I'll see you next time.

— Craig

THE COUNTERFEIT CURE, Part I

The knock came just after midnight, three sharp raps that cut through the Michigan winter like ice breaking. Shelby Alexander stood from his worn leather armchair, joints creaking in protest. Twenty years ago, he would have already been at the door, ready for whatever trouble came calling. Now, older and wiser, he took his time.

Through the frosted glass, a familiar silhouette waited on his porch. Shelby's hand hesitated on the deadbolt. He knew that stance, that particular way of holding the shoulders—though he hadn't seen it in nearly two decades.

"Marcus," he said, pulling open the door. "You're a long way from Johns Hopkins."

Dr. Marcus Lane smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. Snow dusted his silver locks, and his breath fogged in the bitter air. He wore an expensive wool coat that seemed out of place in the small, rural town of Serenity.

"Hello, old friend. May I come in?"

Shelby stepped aside, noting how Marcus's leather shoes squeaked against the hardwood—city shoes, not made for harsh, small-town winters. The doctor settled into the chair opposite Shelby's, refusing an offer of whiskey with a wave of his manicured hand.

"I've done it, Shelby," Marcus said, leaning forward. "What we talked about that night in Baltimore, after the Williams fight. I've found the cure."

Shelby's old boxer's hands tightened on the arms of his chair. That night in Baltimore had been ugly – blood on his gloves, a man in the hospital, and Marcus patching him up while they talked about fixing the world's broken pieces. They'd been younger then, full of righteous fire and stupid dreams.

"What kind of cure?" Shelby asked, though he already knew.

"Addiction." Marcus reached into his coat and withdrew a slim silver case. Inside, glass vials caught the lamplight. "Not just another treatment – a real cure. New-age medicine combined with targeted psychological intervention. Three doses, and the cravings never come back."

Shelby studied his old friend's face, looking for the idealistic doctor he'd known. Instead, he saw something harder, something darker.

"Nothing's that simple, Marcus."

"It is this time." Marcus set one vial on the coffee table between them. "I've already started treating people here in Serenity. That young woman, Emily Carter? Three weeks clean. The Matthews boy? Back in school. This town needs this, Shelby. These people need it."

Shelby picked up the vial, holding it to the light. The liquid inside shifted like mercury. "And you came to tell me because..."

"Because I remember what you said that night. About wanting to help people instead of hurting them. About making things right." Marcus stood, straightening his coat. "And because I trust you to see the bigger picture, just like you always did."

Shelby watched the vial catch the flickering light of the fire. Something was off – he felt it in his bones, the same way he used to feel a punch coming before it was thrown. But he couldn't shake the thought of Emily Carter—if what Marcus said was true—a former homecoming queen ravaged by addiction … now clear-eyed for the first time in years.

And yet, sometimes hope was the most dangerous drug of all.

“Why here, Marcus? Serenity’s small potatoes. Surely you could make a bigger splash elsewhere.”

“I’m not in it for fame or fortune,” Marcus said. “I want to start this slow, without a lot of publicity. I’ve already set up a temporary clinic in town.”

“You’re moving fast. I didn’t even know you were coming in.”

Marcus shrugged. “As I said, I don’t want a lot of publicity.”

“I’ve already asked you this question, but I feel like I should ask again. Why are you coming to see me about this?”

“Do I need an excuse to come see an old friend?” Marcus’s laugh seemed light on genuine mirth and heavy on intentional diversion. Then the laughter died, and he seemed to reach some kind of decision. “I guess I can’t bullshit you, Shelby. You’ve been around a few too many city blocks.”

“A few, yes.”

“Well, it’s like this: I’ve tried to avoid publicity, but have not been entirely successful. As you might imagine, there are people who would love to get their hands on this cure and wring every dollar out of it. That would mean some who need it wouldn’t be able to afford it, which defeats my purpose in developing this in the first place.”

They talked for awhile longer about unimportant things, and then Marcus took his leave.

Shelby sat alone for awhile, drinking in the firelight—adding in a couple of sips of whiskey along the way. This should be good news for the small town, which had been ravaged by drugs, thanks to a couple of local crime families—namely the Ellises.

But there was something about Marcus’s visit—and the way Marcus had seemed to change—that left a little pit of unease in Shelby’s gut.

To Be Continued.

---