2025-04-27 22:26:35
Previous Chapter
Related Chapters
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 203. Meeting
The next morning arrived cloaked in a thick, stubborn mist.Van sat at the kitchen table, fingers drumming a slow, restless rhythm against the wood. The twins chased each other around the living room, shrieking with laughter. Ivy moved between them and the stove, trying to keep some fragile sense of normal.But normal had left the building the moment Van stepped into that station.The shrill ring of his phone cut through the noise like a blade. Van snatched it up before the second ring."Van Everest?" a clipped voice asked."Speaking.""This is Officer Raúl Mendes. You came by the station yesterday, left a message."Van stood up without realizing it, moving instinctively toward the window. Outside, their narrow estate street looked calm — but he felt the weight of eyes on him, imagined whispers carried on the mist."I need to see you," Van said, voice steady.There was a pause on the line. Raúl wasn’t quick to agree. He was weighing things, calculating — just like Van expected.Finall
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 204. History
The red light on the recorder blinked steadily between them.Van watched it for a moment, then lifted his gaze to Officer Raúl’s face — a face made for secrets, for catching lies before they finished forming.Still, Van didn’t flinch."We met in college," he began, voice even. "Bianca and me. First semester. She was... bright. Loud. She walked into a room like she owned it."Raúl said nothing, just scribbled something short on a legal pad."We started dating a few months later. It was easy, at first." Van’s fingers tapped an unconscious rhythm against the arm of the chair. "Too easy, maybe.""How long did it last?" Raúl asked."Three years," Van said. "Three years before it all went sideways."He shifted slightly, the old bitterness tightening his throat. "I got arrested while we were planning our wedding. Said it was attempted murder. Was never even allowed to get lawyer."Raúl’s pen paused. "You were convicted.""Yeah. Framed. Didn't matter." Van leaned forward a little, voice sharp
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 205. Statement
The tiny interrogation room smelled of coffee grounds and cheap disinfectant.Van sat at a metal table while Officer Lange — a thin man with sharp knuckles and tired eyes — set a battered laptop between them, the clack of keys loud in the stillness.“Just for record-keeping,” Lange said, sliding a form across the table. “Your statement, in your words. Then you’ll sign."Van picked up the pen without a word. His hands were steady. They had to be.As he wrote, the memories bled out — reluctant, stubborn things that didn’t want to be touched.He didn't glance at Lange again until he dropped the pen with a soft clatter and shoved the paper back across the table."You’ll get a copy," Lange said, not looking up from the screen.Van leaned back, letting his head rest against the cool concrete wall.Through the tiny square of glass in the door, he could see movement — Raúl speaking with someone, gesturing sharply.The meeting was already being set.Van closed his eyes briefly. And, against hi
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 206. The Meeting
The morning broke grim and gray, clouds rolling low over the city like a warning.Van sat behind the wheel of his car, staring through the windshield at the police station’s worn brick facade.His hands were steady on the steering wheel, but his gut twisted with a slow, simmering tension.In another life, he might have driven away.But that man — the man who cut and ran — didn’t exist anymore.He shut off the engine, stepped out into the cold drizzle, and walked toward the front doors.Inside, the station buzzed with a strange energy. Officers moved faster than usual, voices lower, sharper.Van caught the flicker of glances thrown his way — suspicion, curiosity, pity.He ignored them all.At the far end of the hallway, Officer Raúl Mendes stood outside a conference room, arms crossed.A thin folder tucked under one arm, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth."Right on time," Raúl said as Van approached.Van nodded once. "Who’s here?"Raúl’s mouth twitched in something lik
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 207. Hidden Video
Van sat alone in the parking lot for a long time after the meeting ended, rain streaking the windshield in thin, crooked lines.The world outside blurred into shapes — gray buildings, hunched figures, headlights crawling like sluggish insects.He should have driven home.He should have gone back to Ivy, to his kids, to the life he was trying so hard to hold onto.Instead, he found himself tapping out a message to Officer Raúl.Van: You said there was a video. Bianca's apology. I want to see it.Raúl’s reply came almost instantly, curt and without pleasantries.Raúl: Come back inside. Room 2C. Ask for Lange.Van stared at the screen for a beat, then shoved the door open and walked back through the cold.★★★Room 2C was smaller than he expected, barely more than a closet with a chair, a table, and a battered computer monitor.Officer Lange was already waiting, arms folded, expression unreadable."You sure you want to see this?" he asked.Van nodded once.Without another word, Lange hit
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 208. Shadows
By the time Van pulled into his driveway, night had fallen thick and heavy.The streetlights flickered in the mist, casting long, trembling shadows across the pavement.From the outside, his house looked warm, ordinary.Lights glowed behind the curtains.He could hear faint laughter — Ivy and the twins, safe inside.For a moment, Van allowed himself to breathe.Allowed himself to believe that maybe the nightmare was still somewhere far away.He killed the engine and climbed out of the truck, boots crunching on wet gravel.That’s when he noticed it.A black car idling two houses down. Windows tinted so dark they swallowed the reflection of the streetlights.Van froze, instincts honed in prison roaring to life.The car didn’t move. Didn’t flash its lights.Just sat there, silent and watchful.Pretending he hadn’t seen it, Van walked calmly to his front door.But his spine tingled the whole way.He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and threw the bolt behind him.★★★"I thought you’d be
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 209. Hidden Evidence
By morning, Van’s exhaustion had settled into something harder, sharper.He moved through the kitchen like a machine, fixing breakfast for the kids, kissing Ivy goodbye as she wrangled them into coats and backpacks.He didn’t mention the phone call.Or the black car.Or the fingerprints.He needed answers before he dragged his family any deeper into the quicksand.When the door shut behind them, Van grabbed his jacket and keys, heading straight for the station without warning Raúl or Lange.If they weren’t going to treat him like a real part of this investigation, fine.He would do it himself.★★★The precinct lobby buzzed with the usual noise, but Van barely registered it.He made a beeline for the records office — a cramped room stuffed with filing cabinets and bored clerks pretending to work."Morning," Van said, flashing a tight smile at the woman behind the counter."I’m supposed to pick up some paperwork. Officer Lange said he left it for me."The woman didn’t even blink. She ju
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 210. Dangerous Names
Van didn’t go home.Not yet.Instead, he drove through the city’s veins, the car's engine growling under him, weaving toward places he hadn’t been in years.Neighborhoods where the streetlights were busted and the only thing thicker than the smog was the silence.The kind of places where people heard screams in the night and didn’t open their windows.He had to find someone who could talk.Someone who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty.He had to find out what Jared Barron was hiding — and why Bianca had been caught in the middle.★★★Van’s first stop was a rundown bar on the south end — a place called Kessler’s that used to be a hotbed for low-level criminals, washed-up ex-cons, and the kind of men who did "favors" if the price was right.Inside, the air smelled like sweat, whiskey, and bad decisions.Van didn’t recognize the new bartender, but the big man slouched at the end of the counter was familiar — Marcus Holt, a name from Van’s old life.Ex-fixer. Ex-muscle-for-hire.Curre
Latest Chapter
230. Midnight Deal
The night swallowed him whole. Van moved like a shadow through the back alleys, boots silent against cracked pavement. No headlights. No noise, just the hush of a city holding its breath.The old mill loomed ahead — dead and forgotten.Rust covered the walls like rot, windows smashed out years ago.But tonight, it was alive again. Lights burned inside. Dim. Yellow. Flickering.Van’s gut clenched, there were too many lights.Too many cars parked just out of sight.He checked his pistol — loaded, safety off.One extra mag in his jacket.Not much.But it would have to do.He stepped through the busted gate, every nerve tight.His contact — Ramos — stood near the loading dock, arms folded, a cigarette glowing in his hand."Van," Ramos greeted, voice rough. Like gravel chewed up in a blender. "You actually came.Didn’t think you had the stones anymore."Van kept his face blank. "Let’s skip the warm-up.You got the guns?"Ramos shrugged. "You got the cash?"Van tossed a duffel bag at his fe
229. Regrouping
The sedan rolled to a stop at the docks, wheels crunching over loose gravel.The old warehouse loomed ahead — rusted, half-abandoned, but still standing.Safehouse Two.For now.Van was the first out, scanning the shadows.Nothing moved but the water lapping against the pilings.It was good... for now.Boyd staggered out next, coughing from the smoke that still clung to his lungs.He looked back at the road, half expecting black SUVs to come roaring around the bend.None yet.But he knew it was only a matter of time. They all did. Inside the warehouse, Carla flicked the light switch. Nothing. It was obvious that power was long dead here.She cursed and grabbed the old lantern from the shelf, sparking weak yellow light into the gloom. "Great. We’re living like rats now," she muttered.Dan slumped against a wall, wincing as he peeled back the bloody cloth from his arm. The wound was deeper than he let on but no one had time to properly check on him yet. Louisa stood frozen in the midd
228. Counterstrike
The first sign came quiet. Too quiet.Carla’s laptop froze mid-search.The screen flickered once, then died.She cursed under her breath, smacking the side."That’s not normal," she muttered.But by the time she turned to call Van, the lights in the safehouse cut out too.Dark.Total dark.Van's instincts snapped awake.He grabbed Boyd by the collar, yanked him back from the window."Down. Now."A second later, the glass exploded inward — a single sniper round carving through where Boyd’s head had been.Dan was already rolling for the back door, weapon drawn.But he barely made it two steps before the walls shuddered — an explosion outside, close enough to rattle the whole building."They're here!" Dan bellowed."Barron's men — they’re hitting us now!"Louisa screamed, clutching the flash drive like it was her last tether to life.Carla grabbed her arm, dragging her toward the back.Her voice was sharp but tight with fear."Move! Go! Go!"Van grabbed the rifle from under the couch — o
227. The Leak
By dawn, the first leak was already live.A small, half-forgotten blog out of Riverside — City Watchdog — dropped the bomb.No flashy headlines. No screaming sirens.Just cold facts: financial records, timestamps, and the name of a sitting state senator wired half a million from one of Barron’s shell companies.No context. No accusation, just enough to light the fuse.Van watched the post go viral in real time.At first, nobody cared. Then, somewhere around seven AM, a bigger account picked it up — a political gossip page with just enough clout to make people squint.By noon, national blogs were calling it "The Slush Fund Scandal."At around two PM, the senator’s office released a frantic denial.That’s when Van knew they’d drawn blood.Boyd let out a bark of laughter when the news hit the TV in the safehouse."Look at them squirm! Man, they thought they were gods. Now they’re crying on camera like school kids who were caught cheating."Dan just grunted, never looking away from the wi
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."
