All Chapters of Bloodline Of The Black Throne : Chapter 31
- Chapter 40
146 chapters
CH. 31 — THE NIGHT OF BROKEN TEETH
The alley smelled of wet rust and rotten food—one of those narrow, forgotten spaces where screams echoed but never reached the police. The kind of place where crimes weren’t just committed… they were expected.Adrian stood at the center of it, breath controlled, posture steady, muscles loose and ready. The voice behind him—the one that said “Found you.”—had disappeared into the shadows like smoke.But five figures stepped out instead.Five men.Gloves taped. Knives glinting. One carrying a steel pipe.Professional.Too professional.They didn’t shout.Didn’t threaten.Didn’t posture like street thugs.They simply moved.All at once.Like wolves.---The first attacker lunged low, trying to cut Adrian’s Achilles tendon. Another swung the steel pipe at his skull from the right. A third aimed for his ribs.It should’ve been too much for one man to react to.Should’ve been—But Adrian felt the attacks before they happened.That strange whisper in his nerves flared again—like a glimpse of
CH. 32 — NEW INSTINCTUAL GLITCHES
Adrian woke before dawn—his eyes snapping open a full second before his alarm went off.Not because of noise.Not because of a dream.But because something inside him whispered:“Someone is coming.”His apartment was silent.Still.Ordinary.But Adrian didn’t trust silence anymore.He rose from the mattress, barefoot, shirtless, every muscle wired, every nerve tuned to a frequency he didn’t understand. The shadows in his apartment felt alive. The air felt tight.Then—A knock at the door.Exactly when the whisper said it would come.Not a second early.Not a second late.Adrian stared at the door, heart slow and steady like a trained killer’s. He picked up a knife from the table, approached silently, pressed his back against the wall, and listened.Three breaths beyond the door.Male.Nervous.Armed.“Adrian Holt?” a voice asked.Not a cop. Not a gang member. The tone was too shaky.Adrian opened the door with one swift pull.The man outside jumped backward, hands raised.“I—I’m just
CH. 33 — RECOGNITION IN THE STREETS
Rain fell like broken glass over the Old District—sharp, cold, relentless.Adrian walked through it with his hood up, head low, hands in his pockets. But no matter how much he tried to blend in, the city refused to ignore him.Whispers followed him like shadows.“That’s him.”“The Ghost.”“He sees you before you see him.”“Keep your eyes down, idiot.”Every corner.Every alley.Every crowded bar entrance.His name—his myth—had already outrun him.Adrian hated it.He didn’t want attention.He didn’t want power.He didn’t want people bowing their heads when he passed.He wanted answers.He wanted silence.He wanted to know why he felt like a loaded weapon someone forgot to put away.But the streets had made up their mind.He was already a problem—and growing into a threat.---It started at Marco’s Rusty Bar, a dim, rust-flaked place where criminals drank cheap whiskey and tried to forget their sins.Adrian pushed the door open.The noise stopped.Not lowered.Stopped.Every set of eyes
Ch. 34 — Testing the Ghost
Raf Marino had a rule:Never trust a man who rises too fast.And Adrian was rising like a blade thrown upward—clean, sharp, and terrifying.That night, the warehouse felt wrong the moment Adrian stepped inside.Dim lights. Empty crates. Silent corners. The heavy stink of oil and cold metal.His instincts prickled, a quiet static under his skin.Trap.He didn’t turn around. He didn’t speak.He simply walked deeper into the dark, letting whatever waited feel confident.Then the first killer stepped from behind a pillar.Tall. Lean. Dressed in matte black.A switchblade gleamed under the hanging bulbs.No words. No threats. Just the clean promise of violence.Adrian exhaled.His muscles loosened—too loosened, too fluid.That same eerie sensation washed over him, the one he had grown to fear:He knew exactly where the attack would come from before it began.The killer lunged, blade flashing low toward Adrian’s ribs.Adrian moved before the blade even sparked in the light.He tilted sidewa
CH. 35 — RAF’S OFFER
Raf Marino didn’t summon Adrian to his office often.When he did, it meant one of two things:Money.Or death.Tonight, the air smelled like both.Adrian entered the penthouse quietly. The whole place was designed to intimidate—marble floors, gold-trimmed walls, a chandelier made from bullets lacquered in black glass. The underworld’s idea of class.Raf sat behind a long obsidian desk, cigar smoke curling around his face like a ghost that didn’t want to leave.He didn’t speak at first.He just studied Adrian with the careful stare of a man inspecting a weapon he wasn’t sure he could control.Then Raf slid a thick envelope across the desk.It hit the polished surface with a heavy thunk.“Fifty grand,” Raf said.Adrian didn’t touch it.He didn’t even look down.Money didn’t impress him.Control did.Raf noticed. His grin twitched, uneasy.“You know,” Raf said, leaning back, hands tapping together, “most men would crawl over broken glass just to take that envelope. But you’re not ‘most m
CH. 36 — THE WARNING
The message haunted him all night.“Your employer will betray you in 48 hours.”No name.No context.No reason.But the weight behind those words felt too sharp, too precise to ignore.Adrian didn’t sleep.He sat on the edge of his mattress in the dim flicker of a dying bulb, envelope of money untouched beside him. Outside, the city slept with one eye open, unaware that something monstrous was about to stir inside its underbelly.He read the message again.And again.Let it burn itself into his mind like a quiet threat.The instinct—the strange sixth sense that had grown louder these past weeks—agreed with the message.His body tensed at the thought of Raf.Not fear.Recognition.Like stepping into a room and knowing there’s a knife behind the door even before you see it.By dawn, Adrian had made a decision:He wouldn’t trust the message blindly.But he wouldn’t ignore it either.He needed to test Raf.---The TestRaf Marino’s headquarters was buzzing with activity when Adrian walked
Ch. 37 — The Setup Begins
The delivery was supposed to be routine.Simple.In and out.But the moment Adrian stepped into Raf’s garage that night, something cold slithered down his spine.Too many engines rumbling.Too many unfamiliar faces watching him.Too many guns tucked under jackets that were too heavy for the weather.His instinct—the strange, sharp thing inside him that felt like memory and prophecy combined—whispered a warning before anyone spoke a word:This isn’t a delivery.This is an execution.Adrian’s eyes scanned the lineup.Three SUVs.Black, heavily tinted, engine blocks still hot from being pushed hard.Seven men leaning against them, pretending to smoke, pretending to joke—pretending not to be afraid.But Adrian could smell fear like a scent.It leaked from them in subtle ways:a twitching thumb, a knee bouncing, a man checking his watch too often, another gripping his cigarette the way someone holds a trigger.Raf arrived last, like he always did—swaggering, smiling, drenched in the arroga
Ch. 38 — The Betrayal
The convoy doesn’t take him to the docks.It takes him to a dead warehouse, its windows smashed, its steel frame creaking like an old predator breathing in the dark.The SUVs stop.No one speaks.No one moves.The doors unlock at the same time—click click click—like teeth opening.Adrian steps out.The smell hits him first.Fuel.Glass.Burning cloth.Molotovs.His instinct screams.Too late.The warehouse lights explode on—blinding white.And from the shadows, dozens of silhouettes emerge.Raf’s men.Every fighter, soldier, and street butcher the man can afford.Shotguns pump.Chains drag across the floor.Bats, pipes, blades—everything short of a cannon.And at the center, like a judge passing sentence, stands Raf on a steel balcony.Cold.Expressionless.“Adrian,” Raf calls down.“You’re too dangerous.”Adrian doesn’t answer.He just stares—steady, unreadable.Raf lifts his hand.“End him.”---The ambush detonates.Four Molotovs fly first, arcs of fire slicing the air.They cras
Ch. 39 — The Reversal
The machine guns roar—a deafening metallic scream that drowns out every breath, every heartbeat.Bullets tear through air, walls, crates, pillars—but not Adrian.Because he is already gone.One moment he stands in the center of the burning warehouse—bathed in orange firelight—surrounded by killers.The next…He vanishes.The gunmen panic.“He moved—where the hell—?”“Keep firing! KEEP FIRING!”Rounds chew through empty shadows.Sparks jump across steel.Smoke curls.But the Ghost isn’t in their sights anymore.He’s behind them.Silent.Breathing slow.Eyes sharp enough to cut glass.---A soldier turns—too late.Adrian’s hand wraps around his jaw—a single twist—a violent snap—and the man drops like a puppet with its strings cut.Another hears the body fall and fires wildly.Adrian flows behind a pillar before the trigger is even pulled—like he sensed the firing before the thought hit the shooter’s brain.Instinct? Or something darker?The gunman reloads, hands shaking.Adrian
Ch. 40 — Raf’s Last Chance
The fire still burned behind Adrian, chewing through the ruined warehouse like a starving animal. The air stank of gasoline, molten metal, and blood. Bodies lay scattered across the floor—some whole, some broken, some burned beyond recognition.But Adrian didn’t look at them.His eyes were fixed solely on Raf Marino.The gang boss who once bragged he feared no man…was now crawling backward on his hands, clothes torn, face streaked with soot and terror.“Adrian—Adrian, wait—WAIT!” Raf coughed out, scrambling until his back hit a fallen steel beam. His legs kicked uselessly, trying to push away from the predator stalking toward him.Adrian’s footsteps were slow, deliberate, echoing in the cavernous space.There was no rush.There was no fear.Just inevitability.“Please,” Raf said, eyes wide, voice cracking. “We—we can fix this. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. It was just a test. Just business. You know how the streets are—”Adrian didn’t respond.He simply reached down, grabbed R