All Chapters of The Blood Oath : Chapter 211
- Chapter 220
240 chapters
Chapter 212
The wind howled through the broken frame of the barn window. Kabri stood in front of the cracked mirror mounted on an old support beam, a relic from when the barn might’ve doubled as a resting place for travelers or shepherds. Dust clung to it like dead memories, and spiderwebs threaded its corners.He hadn't looked at himself in days.Weeks, maybe.But something pulled him to it now—an impulse, raw and unspoken, as if the answer to everything he feared was hidden in his own reflection.His hands trembled as he wiped a clean path through the grime with the cuff of his sleeve. The glass protested with a screech. When the dirt cleared, the man staring back at him wasn’t the Kabri he remembered.He leaned in.Dark eyes, sunken and hollow.Hair curled at the edges like flames licking at dry paper.Scar beneath the chin—Jamil’s scar.He touched it instinctively, though he knew it wasn’t his.He blinked.But the scar remained.Kabri staggered back.“No…”His breath fogged the mirror, and wh
Chapter 213
The wind outside the cliff cabin had turned violent again. A storm brewed in the Atlantic, sending sheets of snow against the rotting shutters. But inside, there was stillness. Too much stillness. Kabri sat near the fire, wrapped in silence, his bandaged hand trembling slightly as he flipped through a small wooden box he'd never opened.It had been in Evelyn’s things.He’d kept it hidden—buried at the bottom of her old leather bag since the fire. He didn’t know why he had taken it. Maybe guilt. Maybe madness. But now, as Amir slept upstairs under heavy quilts, Kabri knew it was time.His fingers brushed the worn surface of the box.Carved into the lid was a rose and the initials E.R.Not Evelyn Ross.Not Evelyn Rashid.Just Evelyn, whoever she truly was.He opened it.The hinge creaked like it was gasping after decades underwater.Inside was a silver wind-up key, nestled in faded velvet.And beneath that…A hidden compartment.Kabri slid his fingernail along the edge and lifted the pa
Chapter 214
The wind had changed.From the biting chill of snow-kissed cliffs to the dry, punishing breath of desert heat, it carried a different story now. Kabri stepped off the rusting bus, his boots crunching the cracked sand like old bones. The horizon shimmered like a hallucination, but he wasn’t dreaming.He was home.If this cursed land could still be called that.The border town where it had all begun—where he first bled, where he first obeyed, where he first killed—lay ahead like a ghost refusing to die.Amir had stayed behind. The boy had grown older in silence, wiser through trauma, and Kabri no longer forced him into journeys meant only for the damned. Their last embrace had been wordless. Kabri had simply whispered, “If I don’t return…” and Amir had interrupted:"Then stay gone."He’d meant it with love.So Kabri returned to the desert alone.The sun was a tyrant in the sky, cracking skin and memory alike.Kabri passed the skeletal remains of the militia camp—Fred’s original base of
Chapter 215
The music box had stopped playing.Kabri sat still, fingers laced over his knees, long after the final note of Evelyn’s lullaby faded into the desert wind. The fire had turned to ash. Jamil had vanished again before sunrise, without a word or footprint, as if returning to the realm of Kabri’s fractured mind.But Kabri knew better.He’d seen Jamil’s eyes.They weren’t those of a ghost.They were alive—dangerously alive.And so Kabri walked again, further into the wasteland, toward the oldest ruin of them all.The first camp.The place where children were turned into killers.Where his name was carved into stone not as Kabri, the boy from the hills, but as Operative Seven.The ruins stood like bones of a long-dead beast. Watchtowers missing spines. Barracks sunken into the ground like grave markers. The training grounds, once a field of cruel discipline, now a field of thorns and sand.Kabri walked through them slowly, each step a sentence in the story of his damnation.Here was the pos
Chapter 216
The sky was a harsh blue when Kabri first saw him again.No guards. No shadows. No taunts whispered through others.Just Jamil. Alone. Walking across the sand with the wind at his back and the sun burning through the remnants of the past.Kabri stood on the edge of the ghost town camp, hands empty, the sand still warm under his boots. He’d been expecting soldiers, snipers, another trick or trap laced with guilt and betrayal. But the man approaching wore no armor. He had no weapon drawn.Only a small canvas bag slung over one shoulder and a face older, harder than before.Jamil looked tired.Kabri couldn’t help but think: So do I.They stopped ten feet apart.Neither moved. Neither spoke.The wind whispered between them like a child afraid of its parents’ fight.Jamil spoke first."I thought you’d be gone."Kabri’s voice came steady. “I never leave things unfinished.”A small smile pulled at Jamil’s lips. “Still pretending you’re the noble one.”“No.” Kabri shook his head. “I buried
Chapter 217
The gun was where Kabri had left it.Tucked under the frayed mat in the old commander's quarters. A relic of their youth—its ivory handle now yellowed by time, worn by desperation. He picked it up slowly, like one picks up a memory that cuts the fingers.Outside, the desert was still. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.Kabri walked.Each step forward was heavy with history. The ruins around him—the burned tower, the broken mess hall, the carved tree—felt like mourners at a funeral with no music. Just sand. Just silence. Just sorrow.Jamil stood waiting.Where Kabri had left him.Where boys had once sparred with wooden sticks and bloodied noses.Now, men met again with death between them.Kabri stopped a few feet away.He held the pistol at his side.“I told you I wouldn’t do this,” he said.Jamil gave a slight nod. “That’s the problem. You never finish things.”A moment passed. Neither moved.Then, slowly, Jamil reached into his shirt.Kabri tensed—but Jamil didn’t pull a weapon.
Chapter 218
Kabri sat on the edge of the ruined well.The wind tugged gently at his coat, brushing dried blood from his sleeves. Sand still carried the scent of gunpowder and sweat. Behind him, the outline of Jamil’s lifeless body had already begun to fade into the dunes.And yet…Jamil wasn’t gone.Not really.Because in Kabri’s hand was a letter—creased, bloodstained, addressed in Jamil’s own handwriting.He had found it folded inside Jamil’s coat pocket.Unopened.Unsent.Untouched.Its weight felt heavier than the pistol ever had.Kabri opened it.The first line stopped him cold.“For when I lose. Because I always knew I would.”His throat clenched.He kept reading.“Kabri,If you're reading this, then I’m gone. Either by your hand, or someone else’s. Either way, you survived. Again.That was always your curse, wasn’t it? You survived things that should’ve destroyed you.Me, I never had that gift. I cracked.And you…You became the man I could never be.”Kabri looked up. The desert swirled so
Chapter 219
The grave had no marker now.The wind had carried the stone away, or perhaps Kabri had removed it himself. He couldn’t remember. Everything felt blurred these days—like he was watching his own life through frosted glass.He stood there barefoot in the sand as dawn cracked over the horizon.Two shallow mounds. Side by side.Jamil and Evelyn.One he had killed with love still somewhere in his chest.The other he had loved—and lost—only to realize she was never truly his.And still, in the silence of the desert, only their memory replied.Kabri knelt slowly.“I never wanted this,” he said softly.His voice was hoarse, sun-dried, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken for too long.“I never wanted to hurt him. I never wanted to be the reason he became that.”His hand pressed against the sand.It was cold, despite the heat that had blistered the air just hours earlier.“I never wanted to become the thing he tried to kill.”He reached into the pouch slung over his back and removed a cl
Chapter 220
The cabin door slammed in the wind, hinges screaming like they too had grown tired of violence.Kabri stood inside, rain soaking his shoulders from the storm he hadn’t bothered escaping. The room was dimly lit, a single oil lamp flickering on the table, its flame sputtering like a warning. Jamil sat across from him—unchained, unarmed, but still carrying that coiled serpent beneath his calm.For the first time since Lisbon, Kabri hadn’t brought a weapon.But that didn’t make this peaceful.Not even close.Amir was in the center, his hands raised like a referee in a match that had no rules and no victor—only blood waiting to spill again.Kabri’s chest rose and fell with barely restrained fury. He had walked through fire. He had buried his love. He had chosen to spare this man. And yet, Jamil returned, again and again, like the shadow of his worst regrets.And now, here they were.Again.“You think I’ll let you do it again?” Kabri’s voice cracked like thunder.“I didn’t come here to figh
Chapter 221
It was never about the gun.It was always about what it represented—power, pain, protection. The final say in a language they had spoken since youth: violence.Kabri stared at the gun on the cabin table.A Makarov. Russian, black matte, clean despite the dust storm outside. He had placed it there hours ago, unloaded, but its presence grew heavier than its metal weight. Neither man had touched it all night.But now…Now the air shifted.Jamil stood across from him, lips pressed tight, fingers twitching slightly, as if tethered to instinct.And Amir?He sat behind them, watching, silent. Again.His uncle. His father figure. His captor. His savior.All in one room.The gun was an idea before it was an object.An idea that maybe, after all this pain, one final moment of decisive violence would settle it.Kabri spoke first.“You want it?”Jamil didn’t answer.“I left it there for you,” Kabri said, stepping closer. “One last choice.”Still no reply.But his eyes…Jamil’s eyes danced across