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Chapter 8

Author: Anabelle Collins
last update Last Updated: 2026-01-13 02:48:13

The room was not dark by accident; it was dark by design.

A single, heavy velvet curtain was drawn across the window, blocking out the intrusive grey light of the Seoul afternoon. The figure sat in a high-backed leather chair, the kind that swiveled, though they remained perfectly still. The only illumination came from the glowing ember of a cigarette, an expensive, imported brand that burned with a pungent, clove-heavy scent.

They exhaled, the smoke curling up into the stagnant air like a phan
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  • Bloodline of Sin   Chapter 25

    The descent into the dark underbelly of the Han estate saw the mercenary at the top of the stairs without offering a warning planting a heavy, steel-toed boot into the center of Han Min-jae’s back, right between the shoulder blades. With his hands zip-tied tightly behind him, Min’s center of gravity was already compromised. He pitched forward into the void.Min tried to twist his body mid-air, a desperate attempt to take the impact on his shoulder and protect his head, but his foot caught the edge of the second stone step.He tumbled.It was a chaotic, bone-jarring cascade. His shoulder slammed into the rough plaster of the wall, ricocheting him back onto the stairs. He couldn't stop the momentum. He went down hard, the world spinning in a violent blur until his head cracked against the unforgiving stone floor of the landing with a sickening, wet thud.White light exploded behind his eyelids.For a terrifying moment, the world was nothing but a high-pitched ring and the metallic taste

  • Bloodline of Sin   Chapter 24

    Han Min-jae sat in the back of the lead vehicle. He checked the magazine of his custom Beretta for the third time. His movements were precise, mechanical, betraying none of the agony radiating from his left side. The stitches from the parking lot ambush were holding—barely. Min felt a surge of hope; he knew that very soon he would get answers to where his father was, and maybe get closure and save him, he thought as he was driven towards the Han Mansion. On getting there, he went through the gate, which was wide open as he expected. The car was parked, and the men behind him also got out of their cars. They geared up and marched through the house. After searching the rooms of the ground floor and finding them empty, they moved to the last room: the drawing room.The double doors of the drawing room exploded inward. The heavy mahogany, centuries-old and polished to a mirror sheen, groaned under the force of the kick, swinging wide with a violence that rattled the crystal chandelier ov

  • Bloodline of Sin   Chapter 23

    The Audi R8 V10 smelled of leather, high-octane fuel, and faintly, maddeningly, of sandalwood.Han Jun-woo sat in the passenger seat, his fingers gripping the door handle until his knuckles turned white. He had never set foot inside the Han Holdings headquarters, popularly known as the Han Tower. The monolithic glass tower that dominated the Yeouido skyline, but he had seen the pictures. He had watched the news clips. Yet, nothing could have prepared him for the sheer, crushing scale of the place.He wondered if he would run into Min her, he wished for it, prayed for it but knew the probability of that happening was zero. Min was locked up in a meeting somewhere and must have forgotten that a Jun-woo existed somewhere in this world.Baek Do-hyun navigated the executive garage with the ease of a man who knew every blind spot in the building. He parked the roaring sports car, Min’s "fun" vehicle, in a secluded bay reserved for the Chairman’s associates."We shouldn't be here," Baek grun

  • Bloodline of Sin   Chapter 22

    It was the heat that registered first, a suffocating, delicious warmth that pressed against the entire length of his side, anchoring him to the mattress.Han Min-jae drifted up from the depths of a medicated sleep, his consciousness putting itself back together in fragments. He shifted, expecting the cold solitude that usually greeted him, or perhaps the tactical stiffness of sleeping in a chair. Instead, he felt a weight. A solid, breathing weight snuggled comfortably into the crook of his left arm, a head resting heavily against his chest..He knew who it was immediately, the smell of peaches was unmistakable.Jun.Min’s body lit up. The fog of the painkillers evaporated, burned away by a sudden, intense hyper-awareness of every millimeter of skin where they touched.Min opened his eyes, staring at the high, molded ceiling of his bedroom. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. Slowly, with the caution of a bomb disposal expert, he turned his head.Han Jun-woo was fast asleep, his face t

  • Bloodline of Sin   Chapter 21

    "You missed?" Seok-jin’s voice was a soft, dangerous rasp. He stood in the warehouse, which smelled of ozone, stagnant humidity, and the metallic tang of a fear he found intoxicating.A single fluorescent bulb hummed overhead, its light flickering in a rhythmic, dying stutter. It cast the room in strobing flashes, making the two men kneeling on the oil-stained concrete look like jittery ghosts. They were career thugs, men whose knuckles were permanently swollen and whose eyes were vacant pits of practiced cruelty.But today, they were trembling."We… we didn’t miss, Boss," the man on the left stammered. His nose was a pulpy, purple mess—a parting gift from Han Min-jae’s elbow. "We hit him deep; I saw the steel go in, and he was leaking everywhere. Nobody survives a gut-stab like that—at least not for too long. He’s a dead man walking.""Dead men don't drive motorcycles into the night," Seok-jin whispered.He reached for the heavy crystal ashtray on the desk and hurled it against the wa

  • Bloodline of Sin   Chapter 20

    Han Min-jae gripped the steering wheel of the SUV until the leather creaked.The car was a beast, sleek and powerful, but in the gridlock of Seoul traffic, it was just another cage. He missed having a driver. He missed the ability to close his eyes in the back seat and pretend, for just ten minutes, that he wasn't carrying the weight of an empire on his shoulders.But he couldn't trust a driver today. He needed some alone time to sort himself and his emotions out.His side ached—a phantom pain from the stress—and his head was pounding..He sometimes despised the word Legitimacy. It felt like a deliberate taunt.His morning had been wasted at Han Holdings. He'd sat in a boardroom, a space reeking of lemon polish and a palpable dread, enduring the department heads' droning presentations of quarterly projections—Construction, Shipping, Tech.It was all a performance.Behind the veneer of professional spreadsheets lay a deep corruption. District 4 controlled the construction unions. The s

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