Hitler's Bloodline Novels & Stories

We not only invite our friends here, but also our rivals. Heaven and hell. Angels and demons. River Amber, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that my father was lyrical in that sense given his upbringing. His ancestry dates back to the beginning, commencing at the end of World War II with my grandparents; he was not just the ruler of one of the most prosperous kings in London and Russia. I am part of that bloodline. In fact, I’m the only one who can protect it anymore.

He glanced at his father, who smiled, looking pleased as he watched the dying witch. He watched his father's blazing eyes filled with rage as he ordered his soldiers to go into the woods and get more witches to get assassinated. This incident happened five years ago, but the memory laid fresh on his mind—he couldn't forget the furious look on his father's face when the guards reported the escape of the surviving witches. The King's outrage surprised him and brought a feeling of unsettledness in him, which he couldn't assert.

Everything we'd collected during the investigation. I started reading mechanically. Not really absorbing. Just going through the motions. Then something caught my attention. A transcript from my kidnapping. Words I'd overheard between guards that hadn't made sense at the time. "The architect needs the bloodline secured. The boy is the key." The bloodline. My bloodline. I pulled up the documents my mother had left. The ones explaining my father's identity. Adrian's uncle. Which made me part of the alpha bloodline. What if it wasn't about information at all? What if it was about lineage?

Underground, scattered, renamed, the seventh founding bloodline had maintained its primary inheritance through an unbroken maternal line — each generation a single female child, the concentration intact, passed forward through direct descent from mother to daughter across seventeen documented generations. She was reading this passage for the third time when she heard the vault steps. She said, without looking up: "The seventh bloodline. The last intact carrier of the original concentration. That is what I am." Rafael appeared at the foot of the stairs with two cups of tea, which he set on the corner of the table with the quiet practicality of someone who has decided that significant conversa

The forest, the wolf murmured. Darius nodded slowly. “The curse awakens when the royal bloodline grows too proud, and we all know you are so adamant about doing the needful.” Silence filled the room in that instant. Finally, Kaelen asked, “What stops it?” Darius looked directly at him. “There is only one solution.” Kaelen didn’t like the sound of that. Darius continued. “The Alpha heir must unite the bloodline with the one race we rejected.” Kaelen already knew where this was going.

It didn’t even start with our parents. The records went further, decades further, showing people who looked like us, people who had facial similarities to us. This place had entire bloodlines mapped out like blueprints. It showed generations observed and catalogued like subjects, like parts of a project waiting for the right combination, the right era, the right moment. This wasn’t the rise of a villain. This wasn’t random. This was a bloodline strategy. It was something designed long before we ever breathed. A long game that had been waiting for us since before our parents met, way before our grandparents even came into existence.

He knows the truth. He knows I killed his mother. And I know exactly where he’ll take me—probably the same place where Ingrid is held captive. I feel ecstasy. I invested my whole life in this. Very unhinged of me, yes. The last living tether to both Grey and Bishop bloodlines—not totally, especially when they’re both adopted after all. He won’t kill me right away. Jace is smarter than that. He’ll want me to watch everything crumble. My protected Bishop crown.

Charlie repeated and asked curiously, “What is your bloodline?” The man hurriedly said, “Special Envoy Master, it is difficult to verify my bloodline. As far as I know, I have Oskian, Japanese, British, German, Russian, and several South American blood. My earliest ancestors were Oskians, but since a hundred years ago, many other races had been added to the dead soldiers, so the bloodlines became more and more confusing.” Charlie was secretly surprised. It seemed that the bloodline of these dead soldiers had diversified after so many years of development.

"I beg your pardon, Director Astrid. I am trying to comprehend each word that you are saying. I---" "Venus, I know you have a lot of questions on your mind. Blanche never lies when she tells you whatever story it is. She never remembered me after we lost her mother, my wife, and her biological father. It was twenty years ago since then, I don't even know if her memories about me will still return. She only sees me as her mother's best friend," Astrid clarifies that it's as if the director can see what is going on in her mind right now. "As for the bloodline," the Director takes another deep breath. "I am from the bloodline of killers and assassins. We were born to kill, we are paid to kill.

Lorenzo looked up at me. "Tell him," I urged quietly. Lorenzo looked at Killian steadily. "Jordan's father's bloodline," he disclosed carefully. "The Anchor combination. Your parents documented it as coming from his maternal line. Three generations back." He paused. "But this page documents the paternal line separately." He held Killian's gaze. "Your father's paternal bloodline traces back to the same origin point as this pack's founding line Killian." Killian stared at him. "What does that mean?" he questioned carefully.