All Chapters of The Blood Oath : Chapter 121
- Chapter 130
240 chapters
Chapter 122
Madrid.It rained as if the heavens were mourning sins whispered too long beneath silence.The safehouse was buried beneath a shuttered locksmith’s shop in the Lavapiés district, where languages overlapped and the scent of cumin and smoke floated through iron-barred windows. Kabri hadn’t been back in years. The passcode still worked.It was there, in the concrete hush of that basement, that he plugged in Jamil’s USB.And everything changed.The footage played without sound.Kabri stood stiff, jaw clenched, Evelyn beside him in a hoodie, arms folded tightly across her chest. The room flickered with cold blue light from the monitor.At first, it looked familiar.Rome. 2022. The mission where Kabri was accused of executing the American defense attaché.Only now, the angle was different.The assassin wasn’t Kabri.It was Yusuf. Kabri arrived after the shot. He held the man’s head, whispering something. Then the camera cut—right where the altered version had started.Evelyn turned toward h
Chapter 124
The world was watching.From Tokyo to Lagos, Boston to Beirut, nearly a billion viewers tuned in as the courtroom feeds streamed live across every major network. Headlines screamed betrayal, redemption, romance, and war crimes. But in the midst of all the noise, one image held them hostage:Evelyn Raines, pregnant, pale, and trembling, stepping into the witness stand at the Hague.The Moment BeforeA clerk asked if she needed water.She shook her head.The judge—Hon. Manuela Strauss—watched Evelyn with caution. There were layers to this woman: a lover, a spy, a traitor, a victim. It was unclear which version would show up today.The court officer called her name.“Evelyn Raines. You may now deliver your statement under oath.”Evelyn nodded. She stood. Her breath caught in her chest.Then she began.The Confession“I lied to him,” Evelyn said, her voice barely above a whisper.A pause.“But only at the beginning.”The prosecutor narrowed his eyes. “Ms. Raines, are you admitting to bein
Chapter 125
The room was cold. Not by design, but by function.Deep beneath the International Criminal Court, in a secure chamber insulated from surveillance, bribes, and echoes, Kabri sat with nothing but a dull pen, a yellow legal pad, and a blank-faced interrogator named Clémence Roche.Her job wasn’t to coerce. It was to listen—and to know when truth was bleeding through silence.Today, Kabri had chosen to speak.The Proposal“I’ll give you twenty-two,” he said without looking up.Clémence’s brows tightened. “Twenty-two what?”He finally met her eyes.“Crime lords. Arms traffickers. Men with ministries and men with militias. All of them with blood on their hands. All of them still operating.”She stared, unsure whether to believe.“I want full immunity for Evelyn. And protection for our child.”Kabri folded the legal pad closed.“I will not negotiate again.”The ListIt began like a whisper, but ended like a storm.Each name dripped with weight:Rashid Farouq – Disappeared in Dubai, operating
Chapter 126
The wind whispered across the plains outside The Hague, cold and low like a voice rehearsing a secret. Inside the walls of the ICC’s interim security quarters, Kabri was reviewing coded court transcripts when the door clicked.He didn’t look up. The guards never knocked.But this time, they did.A pause.Then the taller one cleared his throat.“There’s... someone here to see you.”Kabri didn’t move. He was used to fake visitors, legal games, psychological pressure. But the hesitation in the man’s voice wasn’t strategy—it was confusion.“Who?”The guard glanced behind, lowered his voice.“He says... he’s your nephew.”The Boy with the EyesThe boy walked in with defiance in his shoes.Maybe fifteen. Slender, caramel-skinned, dark brown curls pushed beneath a hoodie, eyes so strikingly similar to Jamil’s that Kabri’s breath caught before his name could rise.“I’m Amir.”He said it like a challenge. No hesitation. No softness.Kabri blinked slowly.The air between them grew heavy. For a
Chapter 127
The night inside the ICC cell was long and flat—longer than memory, flatter than mercy. Kabri had drifted into a quiet that bordered on death, his body still, his breath shallow, his eyes closed not from rest but exhaustion. Sleep, when it came, felt like slipping beneath an ocean of silence.Then came the rain.Not outside—not in the Netherlands where he lay, but in the dream.The desert was raining.A silver downpour falling on dry, cracked earth.And standing in the middle of it was Jamil.A Mirage of the SoulHe was barefoot. Dressed in white linen, soaked through, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes red—not from sand, but tears.Kabri didn’t speak.He couldn’t.He only watched as Jamil raised his face toward the heavens and wept.Not quietly. Not with dignity.But with the kind of grief that cracks bone.Why are you crying, brother? Kabri wanted to ask.But he couldn’t move.The desert rain hissed as it hit the earth. It steamed and sizzled. It fell in sheets that shimmered like
Chapter 128
The soft thud of bare footsteps echoed through the stone corridor of the Portuguese monastery, each one slower than the last. Evelyn had taken to walking these halls during dusk—when the shadows stretched long and silence became less sacred, more accusatory.But tonight, she wasn't walking to escape.She was walking toward him.Kabri sat at the end of the old chapel’s pews, hunched over a letter he wasn’t reading. He heard her enter but didn’t look up.The heavy monastery doors groaned shut behind her. Candlelight flickered along the altar’s edges. And Evelyn—her face pale, her steps firm—stopped two feet behind him.She waited.He finally turned.A Reckoning Between LoversShe was still beautiful, even beneath the fatigue, even under the layers of mistrust and pain. Her belly now just barely curved under the soft fabric of her blouse. Evidence of a beginning neither of them had planned.He rose slowly, as though standing in front of a mirror that remembered everything.“I had another
Chapter 129
The letter sat unopened beside Kabri’s bunk—like the others before it.Seven letters now. All sealed in cream envelopes, each marked with Evelyn’s unmistakable cursive.K.A.M. Private Holding 43A, The HagueThat was all the world allowed her to write on the outside. No embellishments. No love words. Just initials and a code to a cell wrapped in glass, stone, and silence.The Ritual of RefusalEvery Tuesday morning, the letters came.Every Tuesday afternoon, Kabri touched the envelope's edge.And every Wednesday, he slid it under his mattress without reading.The monks in Portugal had given him sanctuary. The courts at The Hague had given him structure.But Evelyn… she had given him pain in a beautiful wrapper.So he preserved the letters like relics. Sacred but untouchable. A shrine to the woman he’d failed—and the child he feared to know.Words That Go UnreadIn Cell 43A, Kabri had everything he needed: a single bed, a reinforced writing table, two books of scripture, and a window t
Chapter 130
The first words came at night.Kabri sat cross-legged on the concrete floor, an open journal before him, blank like the future he no longer feared. The pages smelled of starch and glue, the kind of sterile hope handed out in prison libraries. It wasn’t the luxury Moleskine Fred once gifted him in Dubai, nor the rose-gold notepad Evelyn kept beside her bed. It was government-issued, thick, and impersonal—perfect for truth.The pen shook in his hand.But he wrote.Not to the court.Not to Evelyn.To the children.To Amir, the Son of JamilMy nephew— I do not know the shape of your eyes, or the sound of your voice, but I have dreamt of you since the day I watched your father fall. I call him your father still, because that’s the part of him that was real. The part I trusted. The part I miss more than I understand. Your father and I were raised like shadows in a world that hated the sun. When he died—or pretended to—we lost the last innocence we ever had. And when I killed for him,
Chapter 131
The past wasn’t gone. It was folded, buried—like a letter tucked in the lining of a coat long forgotten.Kabri sat on the hard edge of his prison cot, the black envelope still open beside him. The grainy photo of Evelyn and the stranger stared back at him from the floor. But it wasn’t Evelyn’s face that haunted him now.It was the memory of a bridge. A scream. A body. And silence.The Bridge in KabulIt had rained that night. The stone slabs of Hollow Bridge glistened under the faint blue of a sickle moon. The river beneath raged—a furious rush of broken ice and dirt. Jamil’s blood had trailed down Kabri’s wrist, warm and slick, as if refusing to leave without a final mark.Kabri had fired the shot. That was certain.The bullet tore into Jamil’s side. Jamil had clutched his ribs, then stumbled backward.He’d whispered something as he fell.Kabri had always told himself it was “Brother.”But maybe it hadn’t been that.Maybe it was “Forgive.”Or worse—“Remember.”The splash had come
Chapter 132
The metal door groaned open.Kabri sat still in his cell, his back straight against the peeling concrete wall, his wrists draped loosely over his knees. The rusted hinge echoed like a threat, but what followed was not a guard, nor a letter, nor a priest.It was a boy.Or rather, a young man.The ArrivalAmir stepped into the room wearing a navy coat too big for his shoulders and eyes too ancient for his age. A prison warden motioned him forward, but Amir waved him away without looking.Kabri’s breath caught.He had seen the boy once before—through a sheet of bulletproof glass, watching him scribble drawings onto a yellow notebook in the visitor’s gallery. But now, Amir was closer, real, older than he should have been.He bore no resemblance to Evelyn. His cheekbones were sharper, his skin a bronze Kabri had seen only once before.Jamil’s skin.Jamil’s eyes.No Words, Just WeightThey stared at one another in a silence so heavy it rearranged the air.Amir didn’t sit. He merely walked s