The roar in Tobias’s chest had already escaped him when he lunged, fists clenched, hatred blazing in his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to crash through Delgado’s smirk with every ounce of fury his broken life had given him.But the senator did not flinch.Instead, he lifted his hand with calculated calm and extended a single forefinger. Slowly, deliberately, he moved it from right to left as if slicing the air, as if warning a reckless child not to cross a line. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His voice slithered like a serpent across the room. Then he tilted his chin toward the couch, toward Ethan. “However… do you want your son to witness how his father is beaten into pulp?”The words struck Tobias harder than any fist could. He froze mid-step, his pulse hammering so violently his ribs ached. His eyes darted to Ethan, who was still curled on the couch, wide-eyed and confused. The boy’s frail chest rose and fell around the plastic tubin

The numbers on the ledger blurred into neat columns, the hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the office. David del Montero adjusted his glasses, his gold pen scratching across paper with steady precision. He had long ago learned that silence was the accountant’s greatest shield. Where others spilled blood, he moved figures. Where others pulled triggers, he shifted balances. That was why Senator Aurelio Delgado trusted him—David never questioned, he never hesitated.But the silence broke with the shrill buzz of his private phone. The screen flashed a name that made his stomach tighten.Senator Delgado.He cleared his throat, lifted the receiver, and forced his voice steady.“David Montero.” senator Delgado who was on the phone greeted.“Hello, boss,” David replied quickly.“How is work?” Delgado’s deep voice slithered through the line, calm yet heavy.“All good, boss.”There was pause. Then Delgado’s tone sharpened. “You remember the arrangement? You will deliver the te

The sun blazed high, its harsh light spilling through the filthy skylights of the warehouse. Shafts of gold stretched across the concrete floor, cutting through the haze of dust and sweat. The corrugated roof seemed to trap the heat inside, making every breath thick, sticky, and heavy.Six men in Delgado’s employ grunted as they heaved wooden crates off the forklift and into place. Each crate was small but impossibly heavy, their muscles burning under the weight of compact fortune. Inside were gold bars, their combined weight were around eighty kilograms. Sweat rolled down foreheads, shirts clung to backs, curses spilled through clenched teeth.“Feels like moving coffins,” one muttered, dropping his crate with a thud.“Keep your mouth shut and lift,” another snapped. “Delgado doesn’t pay us to complain.”For nearly forty-five minutes, the work continued, echoing with grunts and the creak of metal. By the time the last crate was stacked inside the waiting van, the men’s arms shook wi

“So,” he said slowly, “what’s the price this time?”David swallowed, steadied himself, and spoke. “Ten million dollars.”Mikel smirked, shaking his head. “Nine and a half. The market’s hot, yes, but not that hot. Nine and a half, final.”David took a step forward, his fear was masked by the steel in his tone. “Ten. You know what these bars are worth. You know Delgado doesn’t settle. Pay less, and you insult the source.”Tobias’s brows flicked upward. He hadn’t expected such firmness from the accountant, especially towards a man as well the and possibly dangerous as Mikael Rodriguez.Mikel chuckled darkly, circling the stack like a shark. “Nine and a half. Don’t push me, boy.”“Ten,” David pressed, his voice cutting sharper now. “Think about it—by the time these bars change hands again, you’ll double your money. Delgado won’t blink at your profit, but he will hear if you try to cheapen the deal. You want these bars, you pay what they’re worth.”For a long, suffocating moment, the hall

The room was a furnace of smoke and laughter.Every eye was on Tobias, their jeers still hanging in the air like knives. The weight of their mockery pressed against his ribs, but he didn’t flinch. He stood stiff, the sting of their laughter was louder than the thump of the bass echoing through El Moro’s gaudy den.“So tell us, Tobias…” one man sneered, his grin spreading wide. “…are you here to beg? Or are you here to bleed?”The words cut deeper than any blade.Tobias’s jaw tightened. His pride screamed to lash out, to remind them that once upon a time, his name had silenced rooms like this. But he had come here with purpose, and pride was a luxury he could no longer afford. He drew a breath, lowered his head slightly, and spoke.“I need a score,” he said, his voice was steady despite the storm in his chest. “Quick money. Enough to cover my late wife’s hospital bills.”For a heartbeat, silence held. Then the room exploded with laughter.Glasses slammed against the table. Men bent ove