Blood Thirst: God of War

The Blood Eagle

The gang leader was sprawled across the table, coughing and gasping, struggling to get some air. 

Julius had loosened his grip, but hadn't let go completely. 

The leader's men stood frozen in their places, their eyes jumping like ping-pong balls between their boss, and the man who had single-handedly brought them to their knees, without even breaking a sweat.  

The leader's trembling hand clutched at the edge of the table as he tried to regain his composure. The terror in his eyes was visible, despite all his attempts. 

“Who the hell are you?” he rasped.  

Julius didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t need to.  

Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small metallic ring, and placed it on the table in front of the gang leader.  

The moment the leader's eyes landed on it, all color drained from his face. His body stiffened as if he had been turned to stone. 

His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, his breathing grew rapid and uneven, like a cornered rat realizing the cat was already on its tail.  

“The Blood Eagle.”

It was the blood-red crest of the "Blood Eagle," the most ruthless mafia organization in the region’s history.  

A gang that had mysteriously vanished five years ago.  

No one knew how. No one knew who did it. Only that the leader of the Blood Eagle gang had been found hanging like a dead dog in front of City Hall, his body left as a public warning.  

The gang had been crushed overnight by an unknown force. No witnesses, no survivors. A myth that haunted the underworld.  

And now, this man held its token?  

The leader swallowed hard. Cold sweat dripped down his back. He knows he wasn't the owner of the gang or any member, then who was he?

He started to realize his mistake when he had stepped into the lion’s den thinking himself a wolf, only to realize he was nothing more than a rat scurrying at the feet of a monster.  

The blood drained away from his face. He bowed his head, his voice shaking.  

“F- Forgive me.” He gulped. 

“I forgive all the debts to this family. The family owes us nothing… absolutely nothing.”  

Julius remained silent, but his eyes were still threatening without any words.

The leader’s desperation grew. “Not only that, but… but we will personally support the family! We will protect them! Help their business! Anything they need!”  

He forced a smile, though his hands still trembled. 

“W-we would be honored to serve the young lady! If she wishes, I—I would even be her servant!”  

The entire hall was silent. Even the gang members, still groaning on the floor, turned to look at their boss in disbelief.  

Miley’s face twisted in disgust. 

“You?” she scoffed. 

“You can't be serious about this–”

Her sharp words made the gang leader flinch, but he forced himself to nod eagerly. 

“Of course! Of course! I’m completely sincere—”  

“No thanks, you can get lost.”

Miley interrupted coldly.  

The leader’s face crumbled, but he dared not argue.  

Julius leaned back into his seat, finally breaking his silence. 

“So, if they owe you nothing! What do you think you are still doing here? Leave.”  

The gang leader nodded eagerly, scrambling up from the table. 

“Yes, yes! We'll leave… we'll leave right away!”  

His men, still sore and limping, dragged themselves toward the door, not daring to look back. Within seconds, the group of burly gangsters had vanished like whipped dogs with their tails between their legs.  

But Julius wasn’t looking at them anymore, his eyes flickered toward the window.  

And outside, he found a very familiar face staring back at him. 

His wife.  

Quella looked completely stunned, her face pale, as if she expected to see something completely different. 

She had been furious when Julius hadn’t picked up her calls again. She had assumed he was avoiding her, refusing to hand over the divorce papers, and would be suffering on the streets like a street dog!

So, she had asked her assistant to trace his phone location, which had led her to a small mansion at the outskirts of the city. 

Just to be sure, she also asked the divorce papers to be delivered there, and the courier service had notified her fifteen minutes ago that the divorce papers had been handed over. 

And, she had decided to come in person and confront him. But she could hardly believe the scene in front of her eyes. 

Through the window opening into the hall of the mansion, she could see Julius… and he was pinning someone to a table. 

And judging by the symbols marked on his black leather jacket, he was boss of the Eighteen Street gang.  

One of the most feared groups in the city… despite coming from the Garcia family, even Quella knew better than to provoke their wrath. 

And yet, Julius had apparently crushed them without any effort. She had watched the brutal gang leader begging for forgiveness and pledging his loyalty… to Julius? The biggest loser in the world!

It didn’t make sense.  

Since when did Julius become this powerful?  

She bit her lip, forcing herself to think carefully. 

No, she had to be misunderstanding the situation. 

Julius might have brute strength. Maybe he had been training in secret, or maybe he just got lucky. 

But he was still Julius, and he was never going to go anywhere in life, do anything useful at all. 

Kenneth was the real deal, the ideal husband and her true soulmate. 

At least in this lifetime,  Julius was going to be way beneath them. 

Having convinced herself, she stepped forward and pushed open the door.  

Julius was already looking at her when she entered the hall. His expression was unfamiliar… calm and detached, as if her presence meant nothing.  

She ignored the strange discomfort that pricked at her chest. With a composed face, she walked toward him. 

“I need to talk to you.” 

Julius raised an eyebrow. 

“About what, I thought we had already settled everything between us?”  

“You know what! You can't ignore me deliberately, why aren't you picking my call–” 

Julius leaned back slightly, a slow smirk creeping onto his face.  

“Oh? You’re upset because I didn’t answer my phone?”  

His tone was filled with sarcasm, and Quella’s frustration jumped even higher. Her nails dug into her palm. 

“I don’t have time for games, Julius.”  

Julius chuckled,

“Of course, you don’t! Because you made your choice, remember?”  

She stiffened.  

“This isn’t about that. This is about settling things properly between us. And we need to talk. Alone.”

She emphasized the last word, looking at the gathering whose attention was obviously focused on them. 

Julius took his time before responding. And then, he gestured toward the door.

“Lead the way.”