Semua Bab THE LAWLESS BIKER AND BADASS LAWYER'S REVENGE : Bab 21 - Bab 30

ALEXANDER The knock came again—sharper this time, insistent.Three hard raps against the wood. Then a lady’s voice, clear but steady through the tension-choked air.“Alexander, open up. It’s me. Valerie Quinn sent me.” She whispered.Every sound in the room froze.Jerry’s hand went straight to his holster, eyes darting to mine. The others went silent—breaths shallow, eyes fixed on the door like it might burst open any second.My stomach dropped.Valerie?The name hit like a punch. She’d said she would “buy time.” But what did that mean? What kind of time? And who was this person she sent to my door in the middle of a city crawling with cops?I forced myself to move, to think. The room suddenly felt smaller—every breath heavy with the smell of sweat and gun oil. My pulse thudded in my ears.“Who’s there?” I called out, my voice rough.“I told you,” the woman said firmly. “Valerie Quinn sent me. Open the door. Fast.”I hesitated, eyes flicking between my men. Jerry shook his head slo

VALERIE I wanted to wash my hands of this mess. Let Alexander Stone face the wrath of the law alone. But then... a second thought struck like lightning. I couldn’t let him go—not like this. He’s mine. My prey to devour. And the law? They can’t have him. Not yet. Not before I tear his empire down, brick by brick. At least, that’s what I told myself.The sentence sat heavy in my mouth, bitter as medicine. I had rehearsed stepping back until the rehearsal sounded like virtue: let the wheels turn, let prosecutors do their thing, let headlines have their minute. I am a lawyer; I believe in process because process can be precise, repeatable, durable. But two years of patience had been an excavation, not a waiting room. I had scraped for evidence, stitched small truths together, worn people down until their memories would hold in a courtroom. If the capture turned into a spectacle — if his face on a grainy frame became the world’s verdict — everything that required time would evaporate.

VALERIE The alert flashed across my phone just before sunrise — “Prime suspect in Central Vault robbery found unconscious at apartment. Inspector Xavier confirms transfer to police hospital.”My pulse slowed, then spiked.I had expected this. I’d been waiting for it, counting the hours until the inevitable knock at his door. Still, seeing the words on screen made the air in my chest tighten. The police had moved faster than even I’d anticipated.The Department was wasting no time.Central Vault wasn’t just another city heist — it had turned into a matter of national interest overnight. Billions stolen, media frenzy, public outrage. Every senior official was out to prove efficiency. When cases like this hit the headlines, they moved at lightning speed — and when people move that fast, error margins grow just as quickly.That was what I’d been trying to prevent.I leaned back in my chair, staring at the television in my office where the same breaking news flashed again and again. The

ESQ. GABRIEL When Valerie closed my office door behind her, silence settled like a heavy coat on my shoulders. For a moment, I sat there staring at the empty chair she had occupied, replaying every word she had said.Valerie Quinn was not someone who panicked. Not someone who begged. The fact that she came to me — me — meant this situation was bigger than what the public had seen on their screens.I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly.“A federal vault robbery.” “Blurry CCTV footage.” “A suspect found unconscious.” “And a medical report conveniently contradicting the timeline.”At first glance, it sounded like nonsense — like a mess even an experienced criminal lawyer would avoid unless they had a death wish.But Valerie… She didn’t speak like a desperate woman. She spoke like someone who already had pieces in place — someone who had been planning things long before the police started running around with microphones and flashlights.That alone made me take the case serio

ALEXANDER The first thing that hit me was the blur.A thick, foggy curtain over my eyes, turning the ceiling into a pale smear of white. I blinked, once, twice—slow, heavy blinks that felt like dragging iron gates shut and open again. Each breath I took felt like lifting something massive off my chest.I lay still, waiting for the world to form shapes.For a few long minutes, it didn’t.Everything felt distant—my limbs, my thoughts, my awareness. Like I’d been asleep for years, buried somewhere too deep to claw out of.Then, gradually, the haze thinned. The ceiling sharpened. The light stabbed harder. I could hear faint beeping, footsteps outside a door, the cold hum of an AC vent.And that’s when I realized—I wasn’t in my apartment.This was a hospital.A clinic.No… the sterile smell, the guarded atmosphere—it was a police hospital.My throat tightened.Slowly, painfully, I turned my head.Someone was sitting in the chair beside me. A lady with a brown hair tucked neatly und