The Woman In The Van Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The dark blue light gathered at my fingertips, dense and patient, ready to reach through iron and oak and into the souls of four wolves who had murdered my mother and tried to murder me. "The woman who stood on that ceremony floor and invoked the Moon Goddess instead of screaming." Vanessa was on her feet. Leaning against the wall. Blood dripping from her side to the floor in a rhythm like a slow clock. "The woman who walked out of this pack with nothing and built something from nothing. The woman who healed the man who broke her when letting him die would have been easier." She swallowed. "That woman does not walk into a room and destroy people because it's easy." Easy.

The nobody waitress who thought carrying his child made her important. Vanessa’s jaw clenched as she snapped the lid onto her travel mug of coffee, her reflection in the glossy surface glaring back at her. Evelyn didn’t understand the world Damian lived in. She didn’t know the rules. But Vanessa did. And she wasn’t about to lose to someone who had only just stumbled onto the stage. She slipped into her coat, grabbed her bag, and strode out of the apartment, heels clicking across the marble floor. The clinic smelled faintly of bleach and medications.

A glance that screamed "You're not one of us!" I leaned in and whispered, “Please. I need to leave. With you.” The woman’s eyes widened slightly. “They count us. Six only.” My breath caught. “Then I’ll crawl into the van. Just—don’t give me away.” The woman hesitated. A pause. Then, a soft nod. “Make it quick.” I timed it carefully. As I carried a basket to the van, I slipped inside, tucking myself between crates. My heart thundered as I curled my body tightly, pulling one of the burlap sacks half over me.

And just like that a blurry voice and an image that she assumed that was part of her memory appeared in her mind. 'A woman's worth is more than a man could never work for. A woman is a powerful person who gives light. A woman has been given a womb and a man's part and yet she can give life. A woman has been given a house and yet she made it a home that is full of warmth. A woman is someone who was given a simple thing but can give back precious treasures. A woman has never been worthless. Always remember you are a woman. And you are worth it"

OUTSIDE, IN A WHITE VAN MAREK "There she is." The image is grainy, black and white. The woman is at the window, a pale statue gazing at the night. Marek zooms in. He can almost count the dark circles under her eyes. Cold, worn beauty. The perfect prey. Next to him, in the stifling cabin of the van, Stefan fidgets with a pump-action shotgun. The kid has the contagious nervousness of a puppy. "She looks... normal."

“Yasmin, this is Leo. He’ll be arranging the ride for you.” Leo gave her a brief, assessing look, his face impassive. “Nice to meet you, miss,” he said, offering a gruff nod. “You ready?” Yasmin took a steadying breath. “Y-Yes." She said quietly. He grunted and he opened the van door for her. Inside, three other people were seated on benches along the walls of the vehicle, each one occupied with their own business. One man was bent over a tattered book, flipping pages with his thumb, while a woman at the far end stared absently out the window, tapping her fingers on her knee. The third, an older woman, was knitting something from a ball of dark blue yarn, her hands moving quickly and precise

Savannah’s heart beat faster, but she suppressed the rush of adrenaline, waiting for the perfect moment. As the woman turned her back, Savannah moved swiftly. She reached out, grabbing the lady’s arm and pulling her forcefully back into the shadows behind the van. The woman’s startled gasp was barely heard as Savannah punched her squarely in the face, knocking her back against the van's side. Without hesitation, Savannah hit her again, and then again, until the woman crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Savannah caught her breath, scanning the area for any signs of witnesses. Satisfied, she bent down, dragging the limp body into the rear compartment of the van. She lifted the woman’s legs, s

She bent down, walked to a man's side, and stepped under his umbrella, her fair, radiant face visible only for a fleeting moment. In the blink of an eye, Jerry lost sight of her. When he rubbed his eyes and looked again, they had gotten into a car. There was also a little girl inside. An uninformed observer would probably assume they were a family of three. Even Jerry almost thought so. If he wasn't mistaken, that woman was indeed Vanessa—the Vanessa who had started a new life, who now had a fiancé. For her, Julian was a nightmarish past, not worth recalling. —

“Mmph–” Vanessa’s voice was instantly cut off. The rancid stench of the rag shot straight up her nose, making her vision go dark as her stomach churned. However, the nightmare was far from over. After gagging her, the two matrons exchanged a look. Then, their fists and boots rained down upon Vanessa like a relentless storm. From that day forward, the person “Vanessa York” vanished from high society. In her place, in that old, isolated manor on the island, there was only a crazy, blind, and crippled woman whose sole purpose was to scrub the manor’s chamber pots and filthy toilets.

The door slides open. Chloe stops, her breath hitching. Standing in the doorway of the van isn't the man in the visor. It’s a young Lady - a bit older than her, her blonde hair perfect even in the moonlight, a glass of champagne in her hand. "Going somewhere, darling?" Vivian purrs, a cruel smile stretching across her face. "I think you and I have some unfinished business regarding your sister." Behind Chloe, the warehouse erupts in a deafening roar of orange flame. The force of the blast throws her forward, straight toward the open door of Vivian’s van.