All Chapters of The Blood Oath : Chapter 151
- Chapter 160
240 chapters
Chapter 152
The sky cracked with the faintest rumble, though no storm brewed. It was one of those days in the Alps when everything looked too quiet—when the snow rested too gently on the trees, and even the birds seemed to hold their breath.Kabri awoke before dawn.He didn’t sleep deeply anymore. His body had known too many betrayals, both from others and from within. Lately, his instincts stirred at odd hours—like a whisper on the back of his neck, telling him that something was wrong, or something was coming.Today, it was both.The PackageBy the time Kabri opened the door, there was no sign of who had knocked.Only a small parcel.A brown envelope, wrapped twice in black string.No return address.No stamp.Just a single line in black marker across the front:“For Malik.”He stared at the name.Malik.The name he hadn’t used in a decade. His birth name. The name Jamil had used for him when they were alone—before Fred, before the betrayal, before Evelyn, before the war and the blood and the s
Chapter 153
It began with the silence.Not the kind Kabri had grown used to—the kind that lingered in prison halls or haunted monasteries. No, this was a different silence. This was the kind of stillness that followed an ending. The kind that swallowed the sound of footsteps, of whispered arguments, of quiet apologies never spoken.It was 3:21 a.m. when Kabri jolted awake.The child had stopped crying an hour ago, lulled into sleep by Evelyn’s soft voice and rhythmic steps across the old floorboards. He had heard her singing, humming a tune he couldn’t place. Something nostalgic. Portuguese? Arabic? Her? Him? He didn’t know anymore.Now, nothing.He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the wooden beams above, letting his instincts speak.Something was wrong.Something final.The Empty RoomHe threw the blanket off and crossed the chalet to Evelyn’s room.The door was open.Wide.Inside, the bed was half-made. The baby was gone. The drawer hung ajar, and the single suitcase she had brought from Lis
Chapter 154
The snow in the Alps had barely melted before Kabri was already across the Channel.It took six days—six days of silence, of rewatching Evelyn’s recording, of burning every remnant of the life they’d built in the Swiss village. Amir had begged to come, but Kabri refused. Not out of spite. Not from mistrust.But because something darker was unfolding.This wasn’t a rescue anymore.This was a message.The Envelope from ZurichHe had found it wedged in a book in the baby’s old room—inside a folded page of The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.A plane ticket.One-way. Zürich to London Heathrow. No return. Dated two days before her disappearance.And a business card.Black. Embossed.Just an address.Flat 5, Caradine House, Shoreditch, London EC2A.And beneath that: Owner: Jamil Khoury.Kabri stared at the card for almost an hour. Jamil’s name. His real name. Not one of the dozens of aliases they'd used over the years. It was like Jamil wanted to be found.Kabri packed light. A coat. A map. A .38
Chapter 155
The train to Tarifa screeched into the station just after dusk, its brakes coughing against the steel rails like the last breath of an old beast. Kabri stepped off the platform with nothing but a satchel and the dry burn of exhaustion in his bones.The wind from the Atlantic hit him square in the chest. Sharp. Salty. Restless. The sky hung heavy above the town’s old Moorish roofs, and gulls screamed like spirits overhead.He had a name.Not from Evelyn. Not from the cassette. From the boy, Kasim—scrawled on the back of an old bus ticket he passed to Kabri before fleeing into the London night:"Montaña de la Cruz – talk to the caretaker. He knows the whispers."It wasn’t a place on any modern map.But Kabri knew how to find places that didn’t want to be found.The Monastery RuinsThe Montaña de la Cruz was a long-forgotten monastery carved into a cliffside half an hour outside Tarifa. Its roof had collapsed decades ago. Vines crawled through what was once a prayer hall, and seagulls ha
Chapter 156
It was raining when Kabri stepped off the train in Geneva.Not the loud, theatrical rain of warzones, but the gentle, deceitful kind that soaks you silently—like betrayal dressed in silk.He had spent three days chasing down old contacts. Each lead bled into the next like ink in water, and all roads pointed here: to a discreet private clinic nestled in the Swiss hills, where Evelyn had once gone for “routine care” during her pregnancy.But Evelyn never did anything routine.And now, after the folder, the drives, and the surveillance photos… Kabri knew the truth was dying to be found.He walked through the glass doors, the receptionist smiling in soft French."Bonsoir, monsieur. How may we help?"Kabri slid a name across the desk.“Doctor Émile Renaud. I need to speak to him. Tell him… the Algerian is here.”The Clinic's SilenceThey led him down a pale corridor, its walls quiet and sterile. Art hung crooked on every third frame, as if the building tried and failed to mimic humanity.R
Chapter 157
Rain pelted the rooftops of the old French chateau where Kabri had taken refuge.No one knew about this safehouse—except Jamil. And now, that knowledge filled the air like poison.The walls were too quiet. The electricity flickered once every few hours. Evelyn’s scent no longer lingered on the sheets. The baby—not his—was now with an aunt Kabri had never met. And Kabri? Kabri was unraveling.He hadn’t slept in two days.Not because of fear.Because of recognition.The footage of the hooded man who met Evelyn. The mirrored angle in the window. The mannerisms. The tilt of the head. The faint limp on the left side.Only one man ever moved like that.Jamil.Dead and buried—or so Kabri thought.But now…The Chateau’s Hall of SilenceThe hallway was long, lined with mirrors. Antique, warped with time, each reflection a slightly different version of the same man.Kabri stood at the center, caught between his past and his present.The flickering candlelight threw his shadow across the floor,
Chapter 158
It was the first time in weeks Kabri had returned to Lisbon.The monastery had become unsafe. The Alpine village, compromised. London was a dead zone. Now, with the ghosts of Evelyn and Jamil circling tighter, Kabri walked straight into the one city that had betrayed him most.Yusuf had once called Lisbon “the city of second confessions.” Now, it felt like Kabri’s final one.The cab stopped a few meters from the old tailor shop—burnt to ruins during the cartel purge years ago. Behind it stood an apartment complex, ordinary to any eye.But to Kabri, it bled with memory.Jamil used to keep a flat there.It was his last known address before the desert.The same address Evelyn had visited once—before Fred’s ambush.Now, Kabri entered it alone.The Old ApartmentDust coated the wood. The smell of rust and old incense lingered. A few photos had curled from heat or time. A single chair remained upright, beside a cracked window overlooking the tram lines.Kabri’s boot crunched a loose tile.H
Chapter 159
Rain pounded the Lisbon rooftops as Kabri stepped into the shadows of Rua das Janelas Verdes. The tin box under his arm felt heavier with every stride. It wasn’t just metal and ink anymore—it was history sharpened into a dagger. A mirror he never wanted to face.He had thought Fred was the peak of the mountain. That after Fred’s final confession and death, the rest was rubble and healing.But he’d been wrong.Jamil wasn’t dead.And Evelyn... Evelyn had been part of it.Not a pawn.A queen.Collapse BeginsKabri entered a half-burnt chapel a few blocks from the monastery ruins. The confession booth still stood, blackened by flame but structurally intact. He sat inside, alone, the recorder still in his hand. The old leather of the seat groaned beneath his weight.His heart beat irregularly.His fingers were cold.He pressed play again. The cassette clicked. Evelyn’s voice returned. This time, he didn’t interrupt it with anger."Jamil and I met years before you and I did. Before Fred. B
Chapter 160
The Alpine wind howled like it knew his name.Kabri stepped into the silent cabin, the scent of pinewood and snow swirling with the ghosts of better days. The firewood lay untouched. Evelyn’s shawl—once draped across the chair by the hearth—was gone. The baby’s blanket had disappeared from the crib, folded sheets in its place like a mockery of warmth.But the phone still sat on the table.Old. Rotary-style. Disconnected from anything real.Or so he thought.Kabri moved slowly. His chest ached with exhaustion, his veins still carrying betrayal like poison. He stepped to the crib and picked up the small stuffed bear, one Amir had chosen himself from a vendor in the Lisbon market.It smelled like nothing.Like emptiness.Then the phone rang.Once.Twice.Three times.He froze.There should be no line.No service.Yet it rang with the clarity of thunder through silence.The fourth ring snapped him out of paralysis. He picked up the receiver.Before he could speak—“You finally caught up?”
Chapter 161
The plane touched down in Canada under skies the color of ash.Montreal in winter had its own kind of silence—a snow-muffled, ice-bitten hush that made cities feel like ghost towns and people like shadows. Kabri stepped off the private flight with nothing but a shoulder bag, a new passport, and the face of a man who’d aged five years in five days.He didn’t know why he had chosen Montreal, not at first. It had been a hunch, a gut-pull from the embers of that call in the cabin. But when he remembered the note—“We’re waiting”—and traced the watermark on the back of the stationary to a small Quebecois paper company, it snapped into place.Evelyn and Jamil had been here.Maybe still were.And Montreal was loud with secrets.Frozen CluesHe moved like a ghost himself. No phone. No traceable transactions. Just a pocket full of CAD cash and one target: Barreau Station—an underground train platform rarely used by anyone outside of locals, but popular among smugglers and couriers.It was the m