A glass tower rising over the Thames. Workers dying inside it. A billionaire who knows exactly why — and will do anything to keep it quiet.

Jess Anderson smells a story. Dozens of construction deaths, all ruled accidental, all connected to one man: a secretive Russian billionaire whose privacy is protected by money, muscle, and something far older than any of them.

When Jess digs into his past, she finds his ancestor built on the same London site in the 1930s. The same deaths surrounded that project too.

Hutson anchors this in the kind of real-world corruption that makes the supernatural feel inevitable. By the time the ancient evil reveals itself, you've already accepted it — because the human evil was worse.

“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” — Arthur Conan Doyle

Monolith is what happens when the truth is worse than the impossible.

A glass tower rising over the Thames. Workers dying inside it. A billionaire who knows exactly why — and will do anything to keep it quiet.

Jess Anderson smells a story. Dozens of construction deaths, all ruled accidental, all connected to one man: a secretive Russian billionaire whose privacy is protected by money, muscle, and something far older than any of them.

When Jess digs into his past, she finds his ancestor built on the same London site in the 1930s. The same deaths surrounded that project too.

Hutson anchors this in the kind of real-world corruption that makes the supernatural feel inevitable. By the time the ancient evil reveals itself, you've already accepted it — because the human evil was worse.

“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” — Arthur Conan Doyle

Monolith is what happens when the truth is worse than the impossible.