บททั้งหมดของ BLOODBOUND: The Wolf, The King and The Killer: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

Author's POVThe night air was heavy with silence. Somewhere deep within the barren side of the Mourning Hills, a small crack opened in the base of the mountain. It was an entrance—an artificial structure carved into rock and veiled beneath illusionary magic and high-end technology. No one knew the Redcross operated here. No one except its members and their targets.Red strode through the narrow corridor, the clang of his boots against the steel flooring echoing with purpose. His bloodstained gloves were still on. He hadn’t removed them since he drove the blade into that guard’s back. His steps were brisk, filled with fury that had yet to cool. Every cloaked soldier he passed along the dim-lit path stood rigid, nodding their heads in silence.When he entered the command hall, a group of figures—most hooded, some barefaced—stood around a long digital table projecting maps, stats, satellite footage, and energy readings. The walls pulsed with red veins of light, signaling t

Rhett’s POVI stood by the mirror in my room, adjusting the black cufflinks on my sleeves with the kind of precision that was second nature to me by now. Every thread of my suit was crisp, pressed, and deadly serious—like armor before war. I didn’t dress to impress. I dressed to declare. I was not a man to be toyed with.My thoughts were clear: finalize the Milburn deal, silence the board members still whispering behind closed doors, and make sure Killian had the updated files for the new prototype launch. That was the plan for the day. Simple. Focused.A sharp knock echoed through my room. I turned slightly. “Come in.”Killian stepped inside, already dressed in his dark grey suit, the shade just a tone lighter than mine. He looked efficient, confident, and slightly wired from too much coffee. His eyes scanned me like a checklist.“You’re ready early,” he said.“Always,” I muttered, adjusting the lapel of my jacket. “The Milburn team is already at the buildin

Author's POVThe sleek black sedan that carried Killan hummed along the narrow road that led to the estate, the vehicle’s tinted windows reflecting slants of the dying sun. Killan sat back in his seat, fingers toying with the silver ring on his thumb as his thoughts drifted to the conversation he had just had with Mary Jane. Her anger had been evident, but beneath it, he saw something else — worry. Maybe regret. He hadn’t meant to stand her up, and now that she had agreed to talk again, he was determined to make things right.Just as the estate’s gates came into view in the distance, the silence in the car was ripped apart by a loud, guttural voice exploding through his earpiece."WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, KILLAN?"Killan flinched, his eyes narrowing at the sharpness of Rhett's voice. There was no room for questions or pleasantries. Rhett sounded like a man about to lose control.Before Killan could even reply, Rhett continued, voice cracking with fury."Nikola

Unknown POVThe room smelled of old blood and iron. The kind that clung to the walls, soaked deep into the concrete floor, and settled in your lungs like rot. It was silent except for the labored breathing of a man chained to a chair, his face unrecognizable from the pounding it had received.Across from him stood another man—silent, towering, and radiating a calm that was far more terrifying than rage. His black shirt was rolled to his elbows, revealing a full sleeve of intricate tattoos: snarling beasts, barbed wire, skulls with snakes twisting through their sockets. Every inch of ink was a story of blood, and none of them ended well.He adjusted his gloves, not because he was trying to stay clean, but because the soaked leather was beginning to stick. The man in the chair, his nose broken, his lips split, looked up with one eye barely open.“I didn’t know,” the man whimpered. “I thought it was Rhett. I swear to you—it was just a mistake.”The tattooed man didn

Killan’s POVThe silence in my quarters felt unnatural, stifling even. Ever since Rhett landed that punch on my jaw outside the emergency room, my head had been pounding—not from the pain, but the guilt.I should’ve been faster. I should’ve told Nikolai not to go alone. I should’ve sensed it.But I didn’t.And now Nikolai was fighting for his life, and I was stuck drowning in security footage and encrypted data, trying to make sense of the unthinkable.I tapped on the keyboard relentlessly, the screen in front of me split into nine surveillance feeds. The loop of the parking garage played again and again—the moment Nikolai’s car started, and a half-second later, the explosion lit up the entire entrance like a goddamn solar flare.I zoomed into the corner of the frame. There—barely a shadow. But it was movement. Not one of ours. A tall figure had slipped out of frame seconds before the explosion. He didn’t flinch, didn’t run.That was no mistake.I rew