Title: Killing Motives
Series: Killing Games, Book Three
Author: Reis Asher
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 08/19/2025
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: M/NB
Length: 45200
Genre: Horror/Thriller, action/adventure, alternate universe, bisexual, civil war, dystopia, horror, nonbinary, transmasculine
Description
Reis has spent a year trying to keep the spirit of Anver-Kasyova alive, running Rainbow Bridge, a grassroots rescue network smuggling civilians out of war-torn Anver. It’s all they and Edgar can do in the wake of the destruction of the cities’ connecting bridge.
But when the Kasyovan Bureau arrests Reis, what should be the end turns into an unexpected new beginning: an invitation to lead the very country they’ve been fighting to save. Inducted into the Shadow Government, Reis becomes a reluctant President, aware they’re a pawn, but powerless to say no. The Shadow Government has leverage…and a secret weapon: a powerful
AI named Oracle, whose capability even surprises Edgar.
As Reis takes the helm, they uncover a darker truth—Nation Builders, Inc. (formerly the Killing Committee) is operating out of the ruins of the former seat of government, the Pyramid, to manipulate global regimes. And they’ve built their own AI.
Now, Reis must outwit the puppet masters who shattered their home, confront betrayals on every front, and hold on to Edgar—and their dream of a free, reunified Twin City-States of Anver-Kasyova.
Excerpt
Killing Motives
Reis Asher © 2025
All Rights Reserved
Reis
Reis hit the ground as a bullet sank into the car door above their head, missing them by inches. Smashing into the concrete knocked the wind out of their lungs, and they gasped. Recovering quickly, they rolled underneath the vehicle, trying to buy themself a few precious seconds to think. Reis’s heart pounded. Blood roared in their ears, the din of their body complementing the rain hitting the car like a percussion backing track.
So much for gathering evidence. They’d barely ventured a mile into Anver before being fired upon by an unknown sniper. Careless. Reis could hear Edgar telling them it was a bad idea, but they’d pleaded to go on this scouting mission. After receiving a report that the once grand technological powerhouse of Anver was now home to starvation, pestilence, war, and death on a scale befitting the apocalypse, they were determined to see it with their own eyes.
Anver’s people were dying, and Reis felt duty-bound to help. Sitting in relative safety on the other side of the river in Kasyova wasn’t cutting it. A soldier had to take action, not make statements and wish for the best. Fighting was in their blood, trained into them from an early age, and their skills were being tested once again.
Another shot made Reis jerk involuntarily as it shattered a window. Now wasn’t the time to indulge in reverie, with crystalline nuggets of safety glass raining down on the pavement like hail, inches away. Eventually, even the most amateur sniper would find their target, if only with a ricochet. Reis wouldn’t lie here and wait for the enemy to get lucky.
There was no way they could escape without being fired upon, so negotiation was the only option. Reis hoped they were dealing with a scared citizen instead of a mercenary from one of the many military contracting groups divvying up Anver like a pie.
“I don’t want to hurt you!” Reis yelled out into the pouring rain. “There’s no need for us to fight. I’m on your side.” They closed their eyes, wondering if their voice carried over the sound of the rain. They were done here if they couldn’t use reason to talk their way out of danger. Their only hope was that their would-be assassin would run out of bullets, and they could make a run for it.
Reis jumped when a response came loud and clear. The sniper was closer to their position than they’d anticipated.
“I saw you emerge from the tunnel. Quit rubbernecking and go back to Kasyova where you belong!” The deep, husky voice held more than a tinge of sadness beneath its anger, and Reis could tell their adversary had been through more in the past year than they cared to consider. They were desperate. That was something Reis could use.
“I just want to talk. We have yet to learn what’s been happening since communications were lost. A flyover can only tell us so much. We need to hear from the people on the ground. People like you,” Reis explained. “I want to help. Please.”
“It’s too late for help. While you sat in your ivory towers, we died. There’s nothing left to save.”
Reis heard sloshing as footfalls kicked up puddles. Strong arms reached under the car and pulled Reis out. They looked up and saw a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard pointing a rifle at their head. All they could do was stay as still as possible, knowing that any sudden move could set off the stranger’s itchy trigger finger.
“Get up,” the man barked.
Reis rolled onto their side and used the car to crawl to their feet. They were wet and miserable, but this was the closest they’d gotten to engaging with a non-hostile in months. They reached out with one mucky hand, and the man grasped it with an equally filthy one and shook firmly. A warmth in his eyes seemed to radiate from beneath his war-weary cynicism, and Reis decided to rely on their gut instinct that this man could be trusted.
“I’m Reis. Reis Asher,” Reis said. “I’m with the Rainbow Bridge. We’re a non-governmental organization focused on helping people trapped here.”
“NGO? Hah, figures. Fucking government wouldn’t risk breaking a nail for Anverites. I thought Tony Anvas was a sad sack of shit, but he was right about one thing—Kasyova never did give a fuck about us.” He wiped the rain from his eyes with a frustrated, nasal grunt. His short black hair had grown out and hung over his eyes. He slicked it back in a motion that said he’d give anything for a decent hairdresser or, failing that, a pair of shears to lop it off himself.
“It’s complicated.” Reis wanted to defend the Kasyovan government, but they were as frustrated with the current stalemate as the stranger seemed to be. The government appeared to have fallen silent, allowing Anver to decay rather than risk a war with one or several of the factions fighting in the civil war—or, more likely, the nations backing them. The Anverite civil war was nothing more than a proxy war that had become a place for the wealthiest nations to air their grievances to one another without risking their citizens or territory.
“It’s not so complicated. Kasyova would have come to our aid if we were still the Twin City-States. They would have rolled the tanks in and stopped Anvas before he could kill the President.” The man sighed. “In the end, none of that matters. We’re way past politics now. All we can do is hope to survive. We take each day at a time, hoping that the big money will lose interest sooner or later and let a faction win. We don’t even care who at this point. Let it be the most fanatical separatist blowhards; I don’t give a shit. I want it to be over so we can start to rebuild. I’m Zach Fisher, by the way. I used to be a computer programmer. Now I’m just an idiot who knows a language nobody here speaks. I wish I’d become a doctor—we still need those.”
“My fiancé is a programmer,” Reis explained. “His name is Ed. We still need your skills—perhaps more than ever. You might not believe it, but we’re fighting for you. Maybe not with guns or tanks, but we’re fighting. Would you believe it if I told you that Tony Anvas is still alive, sunning it up on a private island? The assassination was a hoax. Without hackers, the world would still be hunting me down for his murder.”
“If I hadn’t heard your name before, I’d write you off as a conspiracy nut.” Zach spat. “But even if you’re telling the truth and not spewing some ‘truther’ bullshit, it’s not like it matters. This war isn’t about ideology anymore. The sides are all the same. It’s about foreign actors settling their grudges while padding their bottom line. I’m sure the world reacted to the coup with horror, right? Of course, they didn’t. It’s just one more war in a country they’ve never visited and can’t even place on a map.”
Reis nodded. Zach wasn’t wrong, and it hurt to feel cynicism ring true. “Come back to Kasyova with me. I’m sure there’s a lot you can tell us about what’s going on here. It’s been a while since we’ve encountered anyone willing to hold their fire long enough to talk.”
“It’s a little late to launch a rescue mission now. As you said before—it’s complicated.” Zach looked down at the ground, and Reis got the sense there was something he wasn’t telling them.
“Do you have a family? They can come, too, if you’d like. We want to help the people on this side, Zach. Let me help you.”
“I can’t accept your help.” Zach turned on his heel. “A year ago, I could have used you—but now. No. Just go back to your pretty little city on the other side of the river and forget you ever saw me.”
“I can’t do that,” Reis said. “I was born in Anver. Before the crisis, I was a Bureau agent. The citizens of Anver are my responsibility.”
“It’s been a year since the coup. A whole fucking year of hell on earth. A year of waiting for help that never came. Where have you been? What took you so fucking long to cross a three-mile-wide river with a tunnel underneath?”
Reis lowered their gaze. They’d been recovering. Finding themself. Putting their own oxygen mask on before they could assist the person next to them. It was hard to look at Zach—one of those left behind—and tell him the truth, but if they were to have any chance at success, they had to be completely honest.
“I was—there were some things I had to take care of. Hormones. Surgery. PTSD from the last few times I’ve been in fear for my life. I wasn’t exactly in a condition to scout out a war zone. I shouldn’t even be here now. I’d much rather be living in my ivory tower, planning my wedding, but I’m not. I wasn’t here for you a year ago, but I’m here now.”
“You’re trans?” Zach raised one eyebrow. “Heh. Go figure.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reis asked, raising their defenses. It had been a long time since they’d encountered phobia of any kind, but who knew what had happened to Anverite society since being cut off.
“It means you ain’t the only one.” Zach kicked a puddle. “Thank fuck most of the effects of T are non-reversible—but not all.” He shook his head. “I’m forgetting my manners. It’s been so long since I needed ’em. Pronouns?”
“They/them,” Reis elaborated. “I’m transmasc.”
Zach nodded. “Just masc here, all the way. Fine, I’ll come with you—but I need to get something first. Back at my house, right up the hill here.” Zach led Reis across a pock-marked street. Weeds pushed through the tarmac, breaking the road where grenades and IEDs hadn’t done the job. Reis followed Zach up crumbling steps to a decrepit house that was once a jewel of suburbia. It was only a few miles from where Reis and Edgar had shared a home once upon a time. Reis had often wondered if it still stood and what state it was in now.
“This was your house before the war?” Reis asked.
Zach nodded. “Yeah. My wife and I lived here. Now it’s just me.”
“I’m sorry,” Reis said.
“Don’t misunderstand. She isn’t dead. She left me for some prick who could offer her the food and protection I couldn’t. I should be bitter about it, but she wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t protect her. Couldn’t even protect myself.” Zach unlocked the front door and hustled inside. “Now I find out if you’re here to help me.”
Reis heard it, then. A baby’s cry echoed from upstairs. Zach’s eyes narrowed, and he stomped upstairs. The child’s screams fell silent. Reis kicked off their muddy boots and climbed the creaking stairs, not wanting to soil the dirty carpet any more than it already was. Decrepit or not, this was someone’s home. The door to the upstairs bedroom was open, and Zach’s binder lay on the bed. He held the baby to his chest, nursing it. Reis looked away, feeling like they were intruding on a private moment.
They hadn’t felt dysphoria since their top surgery, but there it was, loud and clear, and judging from Zach’s look, he felt it every time he fed the tiny infant in his arms. Reis backed up and waited outside until Zach emerged.
“I can’t imagine how hard this has to be for you.” Reis blinked back tears, suddenly angry that Zach was forced to be here, birthing and nursing a baby alone against his will.
“You get it. I’ll go with you on one condition,” Zach said. “You find a good home for her because I can’t do this anymore. I need to finish my transition. This should never have happened in the first place. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but I couldn’t get T after the war started and…” He leaned against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, gathering his composure.
Reis let him be for a moment, swallowing the lump in their throat at the nightmarish scenario. “Of course, we’ll help you. Adoption services, transition services, therapy… The Kasyovan government will fund all of it. They’ve been cutting the Rainbow Bridge checks on the down-low this past year because they do care. They can’t show it because their hands are tied by superpowers threatening to invade if they intervene in Anver’s ‘efforts for independence.’”
Zach sighed. “Whatever. I don’t care about politics. Just get me out of this hellhole. Please. Get me to where I need to be, Reis. If you can’t take us both, take her. Find her the family she needs.”
“You’re both coming. Pack the things you need. We need to move out before nightfall.”
“What about your contact?” Zach asked.
“They didn’t show up at the rendezvous,” Reis explained. “I’m going to assume they’re dead. Let me know what you need to pack, and we’ll get going.” They took a deep breath, steadying themself on shaky legs before muttering, “Fuck. How did things get so messed up in just a year?” They grabbed a bag and started packing things Zach laid out on the bed. Most of it was for the baby—Zach had done an incredible job, given his impossible situation. The child slept soundly, oblivious to the fact that she was going on a journey very soon.
Purchase
Meet the Author
Reis Asher (he/him) is a transmasculine author living in rural Pennsylvania with his husband and four cats. He loves video games, reading, technology, and of course, writing.
He enjoys shining a spotlight on queer characters and their adventures in a diverse range of worlds, from the fantastical to the everyday.
Catch him on
Twitter where he’s happy to interact.
Giveaway
One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!
