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From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 185. Set Up
It was obvious Anae was skeptical about helping them—Van could see it in her eyes, in the stiffness in her shoulders, in the way her fingers hovered near the concealed blade on her hip. Maybe she thought they’d been sent by the company to find out what she knew—and eliminate her, once and for all.But something about Van made her hesitate. Something about the way he stood, not too close, not too far. The way he spoke—not pushing, not demanding. And his eyes… they didn’t carry the coldness of a corporate enforcer. They held a kind of warmth Anae hadn’t seen in a long time. It made her want to trust him, even if her instincts screamed otherwise.Not only was he attractive—his perfectly lined jaw, the softness of his expression, the kind of eyes that looked like they'd seen too much—but he also had a way with words. He didn’t speak like someone trying to convince her. He spoke like someone who understood. After being isolated from people for so long, Anae found herself aching to feel hum
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 186. The Fire
When Ivy heard the first round of gunshots, she felt like her heart had stopped. A cold, paralyzing dread wrapped itself around her chest, making it hard to breathe. She knew she was supposed to run or at least try to hide, but her fear kept her rooted in place, her legs frozen, her mind screaming but her body refusing to respond.She saw Anae fall—her body jerking back with the impact, then crumpling lifelessly to the ground. Blood spread out beneath her like ink on paper. Ivy wanted to scream, to run to her, to do something—anything—but her limbs betrayed her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent and hot, blurring her vision. Her entire body trembled as the horror unfolded before her.She was afraid—more afraid than she had ever been. She had always known the risks, knew that pushing for the truth, for answers, would make her enemies among the higher-ups. But she had never truly considered what the consequences might look like. Not like this. Not in gunfire and bloodshed. Not in A
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 187. The Hospital
Red and blue lights swirled through the rain-slicked street as the ambulance doors slammed shut. The metallic tang of blood lingered in the air, mixing with smoke and the acrid scent of ash. Firefighters and paramedics moved with urgent purpose, guiding Van and Ivy to the emergency vehicle. Ivy clung to consciousness, her body trembling, her breaths shallow. Van held her hand tightly, his shirt soaked in blood that wasn’t hers. His lips were pale, but his focus never left her face.“Ivy, stay with me,” he whispered. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”Only when the paramedics began to cut open his shirt did Van glance down and notice the dark crimson stain spreading across his back and shoulder. The pain, which had been dulled by adrenaline and fear, now surged forward like a crashing wave.“You’ve been shot,” one of the paramedics said with a jolt of alarm. “Sir, we need to get you stabilized— you're losing blood fast.”Van blinked at him, confused for a moment. Shot? He hadn’t e
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 188. Waiting Room
The ticking of the wall clock was louder than it had any right to be.Ivy sat in the too-bright waiting room, wrapped in a thin hospital blanket, her hospital gown feeling too light against the cold plastic chair. The nurses had tried to convince her to wait in her ward but Ivy just couldn't. She needed to be closer to him, if it was possible for her to be in the operating room with him, she wouldn't hesitate. Her fingers kept pressing lightly to her belly, over and over again, as if reminding herself that the baby was still there. That life was still there.But Van…She exhaled shakily, fingers curling against the blanket in her lap. Every second felt like an hour. Somewhere down the corridor, behind a set of sterile double doors, the man who had thrown his own life aside to save hers was lying unconscious, his fate in the hands of strangers.Her mind wouldn’t stop replaying the last few hours. The moment they were pulled from the wreckage, the blood on Van’s back. How pale he had l
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 189. The Calm Before The Storm
Slowly, the world returned in pieces.A dull ache pulsed through Van’s shoulder first, then the sting of dryness in his throat. The sound of beeping. Soft voices from around him. The antiseptic smell of a hospital room.His eyelids were heavy, but the moment he forced them open, the first thing he saw was her.Ivy.She sat at the edge of his bed, eyes red from crying too much, her fingers laced tightly with his. Her head was bowed, her other hand gently resting on her stomach. Her body was still, but tension radiated off her like heat.“Ivy…” His voice came out rough and hoarse.At the sound of his voice, her head immediately shot up, eyes wide as she stared at him. “Van?”He gave a slight nod, wincing at the way his muscles screamed in protest.“You’re awake,” she whispered, like she couldn’t believe it. Her fingers tightened around his. “You’re really awake.”He managed a small smile. “I told you… I’d be okay.”“Idiot,” she muttered, her eyes filling with fresh tears as she leaned i
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 190. Suspicions
Van sat propped up in his hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic clinging to the air. The dull beeping of machines and distant shuffle of footsteps in the corridor formed a steady background hum, but his attention was focused solely on Ivy, who sat curled up in the plastic chair beside him. The blanket she’d pulled from the foot of his bed was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, as if it could shield her from the weight of everything they'd just been through.They had been talking about baby names—well, trying to."You know, I just think we should wait until the first scan before we settle on anything," Van had said, adjusting the hospital gown that hung awkwardly on his shoulders. He winced slightly as he moved—his shoulder still ached from the impact.Ivy shook her head, her dark eyes set with quiet resolve. “No. I don’t want to know.”“What?”“I don't want to do a gender revealing scan. I want it to be a surprise.”Van chuckled lightly, then coughed. “You’re serious about
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 191. Danger Ahead
Van thought about just letting it go but he couldn't. “You weren't in the ambulance with us, why was that?”“Hmm?”“You heard me, Elias. Did you come here on your own? That would mean you weren't hurt, right? So why are you wearing a hospital gown?”Elias kept trying to insist that he had been at the hospital the whole time. But when neither of them bought his story, he hesitated, his eyes darting between them, before changing his tune. “You see, the thing is, I was at the police station before.” He said. “Police station? Are you okay?”“Y-yes. It's just that um… they wanted a statement of what happened back at the abandoned building, and uh, you and Ivy were obviously in no position to give any statement, so I volunteered to go with them.”If that was true, why hadn’t he just said it from the start?Now Van was convinced something was up. “Okay,” he said simply, his tone flat but eyes sharp. He sat up straight, watching Elias closely.Elias opened his mouth like he wanted to say mor
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 192. Van Everest, A Kidnapper!
Van stared blankly at her face as she spoke. The hum of the cafe around them faded into a dull murmur as Rita's words echoed in his head. She knew. He didn’t know how, but she knew something that made his skin crawl. Something that made his chest tighten with dread.He knew his life was in danger—that much was already obvious. But prison? What did she mean he might end up in prison? What for?He waited for her to continue, to spell out whatever twisted connection she was hinting at, but she didn’t. She just sat there, unmoving, her coffee untouched, her eyes locked on him like she was trying to peer through his skull and read every thought behind his silent facade.Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but strained.“What are you talking about?”“She’s missing,” Rita said. Just like that. No build-up. No cushion. Just a cold, cutting declaration.“Who?”“Bianca. She’s been missing for almost a week now.”Van blinked. “What?”“No one’s heard from her,” she continued, her voice measured but
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226. The Accountant's Secret
The safehouse smelled like old coffee and fear when Louisa Martin finally showed up.She came alone, wrapped in a cheap raincoat two sizes too big, hair hidden under a beanie.Her eyes darted everywhere — ceiling corners, dark windows, even the cracks in the floor like they might bite her.Van watched her quietly from across the room, arms folded.She looked nothing like the sharp financial shark Keller described.This woman was frayed at the edges, like someone who hadn’t slept properly in months.Keller made the introductions. "Louisa. This is Van. Van — Louisa."Louisa’s voice was brittle as glass. "I know who he is."Her eyes flicked to Van, then away again like looking at him too long might get her killed.Van didn’t bother with small talk, time was blood now. "You worked for Barron, that means you know where the bodies are buried. You talk — I make sure you stay breathing.You stay quiet — and you’ll be next on his list."Louisa’s laugh was short and humorless."Sweetheart, I’ve
225. Next Move
By mid-morning, Van couldn’t step outside without seeing his own face staring back from every screen.Some called him a vigilante.Others spat the word criminal like poison.But the city was buzzing, and Barron’s name was finally dragged through the dirt alongside his own.Van didn’t care about the headlines. He cared about the numbers Carla showed him — accounts traced, shell companies linked, wires exposed like raw nerves.Money. That’s where they would cut next.She tapped the screen, her nail chipped and trembling slightly."See this? Phoenix Holdings. Looks clean on the outside, but dig deeper and it’s washing Barron’s trafficking money through luxury imports. Art, watches, cars—hell, probably gold toilets for his mansion."Van grunted. His mind wasn’t on art.It was on Lenny, still fighting for his life three floors up."You said we could burn him financially. How?"Carla smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked as tired as he felt."We leak it. Quiet first — to the rig
224. First Blood
The attack came at dawn.Silent. Surgical. Cruel.Lenny never saw it coming. He was stepping out of his apartment, headed to meet Van at the old mill, when the van screeched up.Three men in black masks.No words — just steel pipes and fists.Neighbors heard the commotion but kept their doors shut.Everyone knew better. When Barron’s men came calling, you looked away.By the time the van peeled off, Lenny lay in a broken heap, blood pooling beneath his head.His niece’s picture, which he always carried in his pocket, fluttered to the ground, soaked red.★★★Van got the call an hour later.Nora's voice shook."They nearly killed him, Van. Lenny’s in ICU. Skull fractures, broken ribs. They meant to send a message."Van stood frozen in the middle of Keller’s living room, heart pounding like a war drum.Carla looked up from her laptop, face pale."This is escalation. Barron’s going full scorched earth now. If we don’t hit back hard—"Van was already moving.★★★At the hospital, Lenny lay
223. Raising An Army
Van’s phone buzzed just past midnight, it was an unknown number but he answered without hesitation.A familiar voice, rough and low, crackled through."You said if we ever wanted payback, we should call. Well, we’re calling."It was Lenny — an old cellmate from the prison days. A man who’d lost his niece to the same trafficking chain Bianca had just escaped.Van’s chest tightened."Where are you?""Abandoned mill off 43rd Street. And we’re not alone."Van grabbed his jacket and keys.This was the sign he’d been waiting for.★★★The mill was a ruin of rust and cracked windows, but inside, the air was electric.Dozens of faces turned when Van stepped in.Ex-cons, street runners and women with haunted eyes — survivors of Barron’s network.At the front stood Lenny, his massive arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, a thin woman with a scar along her jaw — Nora, who had once testified and then vanished from public sight.Van took it in: a gathering of the discarded and the damned.People
222. Barron Retaliates
The news broke before dawn. Grainy footage leaked online — flashing lights at the docks, bodies being loaded into ambulances, women wrapped in blankets, their faces blurred.The headlines screamed in bold:Human Trafficking Ring Busted in Dramatic Night Raid.But behind the headlines, in dark rooms far from the public eye, powerful men were already plotting their revenge.Van sat beside Bianca's hospital bed, watching her chest rise and fall. She was sedated, her body too battered and exhausted to stay conscious for long but she was alive.That simple fact kept him breathing.Keller stood near the door, on the phone with someone high up — probably trying to keep this operation from exploding into a political scandal.Carla scrolled through her tablet, her face grim."They’re already spinning this," she muttered. "Barron’s people are leaking stories that this was a rogue smuggling crew. Small-time. Not connected to him."Van’s jaw clenched."Typical. Burn the pawns, protect the king."
221. Final Hunt
The storm hadn’t let up by morning.Thunder rolled over the city like distant gunfire as Van paced the length of Keller’s safehouse, phone clutched in a death grip.The message replayed in his mind over and over:"Transfer complete. Barron expects the shipment before Friday."Today was Thursday.That meant they had less than twenty-four hours to find Bianca before she vanished — maybe forever.Carla spread a map on the table, jabbing her finger at different points marked in red."These are known drop sites tied to Barron’s network. Truck yards. Private airstrips. Warehouses near the docks. If they’re moving her, it’s through one of these routes."Van stopped pacing, leaned over the map."Which one?"Carla’s mouth pressed into a thin line."If I knew that, we’d already be on the road."Keller stormed in from the other room, phone to his ear."No, I don’t care if it’s off the books—pull every asset we have! She’s out there, and I want eyes on every exit point in this city!"He ended the
220. The Raid
The black SUV tore through the city streets, weaving between cars and running red lights.Rain slapped against the windshield in heavy sheets, turning the world into a blur of lights and shadows.Van sat in the passenger seat, jaw tight, fingers tapping a restless rhythm on his knee.Beside him, Keller drove like a man possessed, silent and focused.Carla sat in the back, double-checking the blueprints of the warehouse on her tablet."Franklin and Third," she muttered."Two floors. Old textile plant. Abandoned for years. No security cameras, no neighbors — perfect place to stash someone."Van’s stomach twisted.It was too perfect.He kept flashing back to Vance’s words: If they think you’re coming, they’ll move her—or worse.He couldn't afford to think about what worse meant.Not now.Not when they were this close.They arrived in less than fifteen minutes.The warehouse loomed out of the mist like a dead thing — gray, crumbling, windows shattered, rust eating through the metal doors.
219. Confession
The air inside the van was thick with tension.Julian Vance sat slumped against the wall, wrists cuffed to a metal ring bolted to the floor.The blindfold was gone, but fear had carved deep lines into his face.Sweat soaked through his shirt despite the cold night air.Across from him, Van leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, studying him like a puzzle that needed solving.Keller sat beside Van, silent and looming, while Carla hovered near the door, tablet in hand, recording everything.No one spoke for a long moment.They let the fear do its work first.Vance fidgeted, his eyes darting from face to face, looking for a crack, a kindness.He found none.Finally, Keller broke the silence."You know who we are," he said calmly."You know why you’re here."Vance licked his lips."I—I’m just an accountant," he stammered."I don’t know anything."Keller smiled thinly."You know enough to get yourself killed. Or saved. Your choice."Vance’s hands twisted in the cuffs."I can’t," he whisper
218. The Aftermath
The night was soaked in the heavy stench of gunpowder and rain.Sirens howled in the distance — getting closer — but Agent Keller’s team moved fast.They swept the abandoned lot, securing what little evidence Moses had left behind: a few casings, tire tracks gouged deep into the mud, a broken phone.It wasn’t enough.Moses had disappeared like a phantom into the night, and worse — he had seen through the setup.Van had barely made it out alive.Inside the mobile command van, Keller slammed his fist against the table."Someone tipped him off," he growled."There’s no way he walked into that meeting with backup unless he knew we were coming."Carla sat beside Van, wrapping a makeshift bandage around his bleeding arm.Her hands were steady, but her face was grim.Van winced as the gauze tightened, but he barely felt the pain.His mind was somewhere else.A traitor.Someone inside their circle.Someone who had sold them out to Moses.Keller paced furiously, barking orders into his radio,
