# The Last Keymaker's Blood Debt

Author: Kieran Cross
Site: ReadNovelHub
Canonical: https://readnovelhub.com/novel/the-last-keymaker-s-blood-debt
Genre: System-LitRPG-LevelUp

## World
Kellan stares at the weapon she just forged, voice low: "You just saved me. Now the Heart Furnace knows." Deep in the city, a furnace ignites — like an eye opening.

## Tropes
- Dark Romance
- System & LitRPG
- Mafia & Dark Romance
- Cyberpunk & Sci-Fi
- System-LitRPG-LevelUp
- Mafia-Dark-Romance
- Cyberpunk-SciFi

## FAQ
### What is The Last Keymaker's Blood Debt about?
Kellan stares at the weapon she just forged, voice low: "You just saved me. Now the Heart Furnace knows." Deep in the city, a furnace ignites — like an eye opening.

### Who is the author of The Last Keymaker's Blood Debt?
The Last Keymaker's Blood Debt is written by Kieran Cross. Read Chapter 1 free on ReadNovelHub.

### Is The Last Keymaker's Blood Debt a Dark Romance story?
Yes. The Last Keymaker's Blood Debt is tagged for Dark Romance readers looking for North American romance-fantasy tropes.

### Can I read The Last Keymaker's Blood Debt Chapter 1 for free?
Yes. Chapter 1-5 Free. Chapter 6+ unlocked via Ads or a $0.00 trial. Start The Last Keymaker's Blood Debt on ReadNovelHub.

### What happens at the start of The Last Keymaker's Blood Debt?
"Come on." Avery Vale had thirty seconds before the guards found her, and the lock just grew a second keyhole. Her fingers were already bleeding. Thin red lines where the teeth had bitten into her skin.

## Chapter 1 teaser
### The Lock That Shouldn't Open

"Come on." Avery Vale had thirty seconds before the guards found her, and the lock just grew a second keyhole. Her fingers were already bleeding. Thin red lines where the teeth had bitten into her skin. The blood ran along the brass and vanished into the metal like the door was drinking it. "That's new," she muttered. So was the second keyhole. She crouched in the service passage behind Blackmere Estate's west gallery, one knee in the dust. The vault door filled the dead end. Someone had hidden it behind a painting of a duke with a weak chin. She'd found the door by accident. The key had found it on purpose. Her phone buzzed. WHERE ARE YOU? Avery locked the screen. Footsteps pounded on the other side of the wall. "Check the gallery again!" A man's voice, too close. "She took the case key. She can't have gotten far." Of course she couldn't. Three exits. Six cameras. Forty-two guests drinking champagne under a chandelier worth more than her building. They'd sealed the front drive the second the emerald went missing. The emerald she hadn't stolen. The emerald that had somehow ended up in her tool case while three hundred people watched. Avery leaned closer to the lock. It sat in the middle of the iron door, right where a keyhole should be. Except it looked wet. Not polished. Wet. Tiny ripples moved across the brass, pushing the dust away. No maker's stamp. No screws. No hinges on the door, either. She'd spent eleven years opening locks for people who paid too much to hear no. Antique safes. Museum cases. Custom vaults. A stupid number of designer handbags. She knew locks. This one had no business existing. The first keyhole changed shape while she watched. Avery pulled her hand back. The hole narrowed. Then widened again. "That's disgusting." The footsteps got louder. She 

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