Arthur took a moment to scan Cassidy up and down, the powerful presence of the man impossible to ignore. Cassidy’s demeanor was all control… his intense eyes, his smirk, the confidence in his movements. Arthur could feel the tension building between them, like an electric current in the air.
“It’s your first time here?” Cassidy asked, his voice smooth, probing. “Never saw you here before.”
Arthur chuckled, his gaze flicking over Cassidy before meeting his eyes. “What? You live here?”
Cassidy leaned in slightly, a glimmer of amusement in his expression. “I’m in the management team.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Interesting. But answering your question... no, I don’t come often.”
Cassidy tilted his head, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “So, what made you come here today?” His hand reached out, gently grazing Arthur’s jaw. The
Arthur woke up slowly, the morning light seeping through the gaps in the blinds. His head felt heavy, and his body ached faintly from the night before. Blinking, he turned his head to the other side of the bed, expecting to see Cassidy still there. The space was empty. He frowned, propping himself up on an elbow.“Maybe he’s in the bathroom,” Arthur muttered, his voice rough with sleep.Pushing himself upright, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched. The room was quiet, too quiet. Something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He rubbed his face and got to his feet, his gaze landing on his trousers crumpled on the floor. His phone. He needed to check the time.Arthur crouched down, fishing through his trousers. His hand moved through the pockets, coming up empty.His brow furrowed. “Where the hell…”He stood up, scanning the floor around him. Maybe it had fallen out? He crouche
Matthew stirred, his face buried deep into the pillow, half-dreaming, half-drifting in that pleasant haze of sleep. Then came the incessant buzzing of a cellphone, shattering his peace. His eyelids twitched as he groaned softly, reluctant to wake. He opened one eye, squinting at the empty side of the bed. The faint sound of running water came from the bathroom. Of course, Cassidy was already up. His phone, however, was still ringing, loud and demanding attention. "Cassidy!โ Matthew called out, his voice rough from sleep. The water stopped abruptly. A silence lingered before Cassidyโs deep, dangerous voice carried back. โYeah?โ โYour phone is ringing!โ There was a pause, then the same commanding tone. โPick it up!" Matthew frowned, stretching an arm toward the device. As he held it up, he muttered, โNew phone,โ before answering. โYeah?โ Nothing but silence on the other end. โHello?โAgain, there was nothin
Matthew lay sprawled on the couch, half-watching the TV. The flickering light danced over his face, but his mind was elsewhere. The sound of the door opening caught his attention, and he turned to see Cassidy entering, shrugging off his coat with a calculated ease.Cassidy’s dark gaze fell on Matthew, lingering as if he was trying to read his every thought.“Matthew, I’ll be leaving for NewCastle Upon Tyne soon.”Matthew didn’t bother masking his sarcasm. “What’s the occasion? Vacation? Assassination?”Cassidy smirked, ignoring the barb. “Business. A capo meeting. Annual reports, territory matters, last year’s successes, next year’s plans. You know, the usual.”Matthew snorted. “How riveting. Must be nice to have a full calendar of crimes to discuss.”Cassidy’s smirk widened, and he walked toward the washroom without
Arthur sat at his desk; his brow furrowed as he scribbled notes onto his notepad. Despite the calm atmosphere in the office, his thoughts were anything but. Every noise around him felt amplified… the faint hum of the overhead lights, the shuffle of papers, the clicking of Masahiro’s pen as he worked at his desk. Arthur stole a glance at his boss, Masahiro, who looked as composed and sharp as ever, completely immersed in his work.The sound of a knock at the door broke the rhythm.Masahiro, without looking up, called out, “Come in.”The door creaked open, and Masahiro’s secretary stepped inside. Her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor as she approached his desk.“Good morning, sir,” she said politely, holding out an envelope. “This just arrived from the Newcastle Police Station.”Masahiro looked up and took the envelope from her with a nod. “Oh, it ca
The cab hummed steadily as it made its way through the bustling streets of Newcastle. Arthur sat in the backseat, trying to keep his composure. The city felt different from Middlesbrough… more alive, more vibrant, but also daunting in its own way. Beside him, Masahiro sat with his usual composed expression, his gaze directed out the window.“First time in Newcastle?” Masahiro's voice broke the silence, the sound of it calm yet commanding.Arthur nodded, his gaze a little distracted. “Yes, sir.”Masahiro’s eyes flicked toward him, a faint curiosity in his expression. “In your CV, it said you studied abroad. Arts, if I’m not mistaken. But then you decided to become a law enforcement officer. You mentioned you joined because of a personal matter… What was that?”Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding Masahiro’s gaze. His hands fidgeted slightly, and he felt the weight of the ques
Masahiro’s footsteps slowed as he neared the balcony.Through the glass door, he spotted Matthew leaning against the railing, the city lights framing him like some ironic painting. A lit cigarette rested between his fingers, and smoke curled lazily into the cold Newcastle night air. His chest tightened, anger and longing warring within him. `Why do you always run? he thought bitterly. And why can’t I stop chasing you?´Masahiro stepped closer, his footsteps deliberately soft, his voice low and cutting through the air. “I didn’t know you frequented Newcastle.”Matthew’s cigarette paused mid-air as he froze, the corners of his lips twitching. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder.“Well, well,” Matthew drawled, his voice dripping with mockery as he turned to face Masahiro. “Besides being clingy, guess you’ve graduated to full-on stalking, Detective.” He exhaled smoke dr
Arthur adjusted the earpiece, scanning the VIP section with practiced focus. The dim lighting, soft hum of jazz, and clinking glasses provided the perfect cover for secrets exchanged in hushed tones. His eyes followed their primary target… a man suspected man of having connections to Ashford or being the Ashford himself, the one suspected of leading Newcastle drug trafficking ring.Then, from the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed someone descending the stairs. The figure wore a hat pulled low and a long coat that brushed against his legs as he moved. The man had his left hand to his ear, speaking on his phone. Something about his demeanor made Arthur pause.And then, he saw it.The rose tattoo.Arthur’s blood ran cold. His pulse quickened as memories flooded back… his sister Alexandra’s lifeless body, her blood staining the floor, and a hand with that same tattoo disappearing into the shadows.It wa
Arthur adjusted his jacket as he approached Masahiro, his steps a little too quick, betraying his nerves. He found the senior detective standing by the railing of the mezzanine level, a perfect vantage point to observe the VIP section below. Masahiroโs posture was as sharp as his tailored suitโฆ confident, calculated, and completely in control.โCooper! You took long,โ Masahiro said, not even turning his head as Arthur approached. His voice was low but carried the weight of authority, cutting through the ambient hum of conversation and soft jazz.Arthur hesitated for the briefest of moments, then forced an easy smile. โSorry, sir. The restroom line was longer than expected.โMasahiro turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing just enough to make Arthurโs chest tighten. His piercing gaze lingered for a moment too long, and Arthur felt a bead of sweat forming at the back of his neck.โHmm,โ Masahiro murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching as if heโd ju
Clark stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp, glasses fogging slightly as he adjusted them with one hand. A loose t-shirt clung to his frame, baggy pajama pants hanging low on his hips, flip flops slapping lightly against the hardwood as he moved.The scent hit him before he reached the living roomโrosemary, garlic, a hint of something sweet. His stomach, traitorous as ever, growled on cue.Adam was at the stove, shirtless, a tea towel slung over his shoulder. The muscles in his back shifted with each movement, smooth and effortless as he stirred something in a pan.Clark hovered at the edge of the room. โYou cook like that and still act surprised people want to fuck you.โAdam didnโt turn. โYou flirt like that and still wonder why you end up bruised.โClark smirked, stepping further in. โTouchรฉ.โAdam plated without a word, setting two dishes on the table like it was routine. Like they werenโt still bruised from each other in all the wrong ways.Clark raised an eyebrow. โSettin
The low hum of the television filled the living room. Adam sat sprawled on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, remote balanced loosely in his hand. Some news anchor droned on about the latest scandal, but Adam barely glanced at the screen. The sunlight filtering through the windows cast a warm glow over the space, though the tension clinging to the room remained as cold as ever.Clark stood near the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his fingers drumming impatiently against his elbow. He was still in yesterdayโs clothesโthe wrinkled shirt barely buttoned, the trousers creased from hours spent tangled in bed. Heโd rolled up the sleeves at some point, exposing pale forearms that still bore faint impressions of Adamโs grip. Every mark, every ache, gnawed at him."I need to go home," Clark said flatly.Adam didnโt even flinch. His eyes remained on the screen, the glow of the TV reflecting faintly against his dark skin. "No."Clark's jaw clenched. "I wasnโt as
The clock crawled past noon.Clark slouched on the leather couch, whiskey in hand. The ice had melted. He didnโt care. His shirt stuck to his skin, wrinkled and loose from the night before. He hadnโt changed. Hadnโt showered. The bruises on his neck were impossible to ignore. Dark splotches, some shaped like teeth. Others like fingers. A goddamn masterpiece, signed in pain.Adam, though? He looked like heโd just stepped out of a cologne advertising.Shirtless. Loose sweatpants slung low. Muscles on full display, carved deep beneath dark skin. The light caught every scar, every ripple. And those hands โ Clarkโs gaze kept catching on them. Rough, wide-knuckled, capable of wrecking anything. He knew that better than anyone now.The worst part? Adam wasnโt even trying.He moved through the kitchen like he owned the air. Coffee in one hand, the other lazily resting on the counter. Like nothing happened. Like Clarkโs body wasnโt still a battlefield."You act like n
The air between them was suffocating.Clarkโs eyes flashed, his bare chest still heaving as he jerked the sheets higher, though there was little point. The bruises were already visibleโdark purple splotches along his neck, across his chest, down his sides. Some shaped like teeth. Others like fingers. He felt every mark. Every ache. And the soreness that ran deeper than his skin."Youโ" Clarkโs voice cracked, still rough from sleep, from the night before. He swallowed. "You took advantage of me."Adam stood at the edge of the bed, already tugging his sweatpants back on. He didnโt flinch. Didnโt argue. Just pulled the waistband up with that same brute force that lingered in Clarkโs bones."I'm just as horrified as you are," Adam muttered, his voice low, stripped of anything that resembled guilt. "Iโm making breakfast.""Breakfast?" Clark's laugh was sharp. "You think I care about breakfast? You think eggs and coffee are going to make me forget that youโ" His hand flew to the side of his
Adam woke to the sound of his phone vibrating.The dull hum buzzed somewhere on the nightstand, insistent and unforgiving. He ignored it at first, the weight of exhaustion still heavy. His body ached. Not the usual acheโnot from fights or workouts or even a bad mattress. This was different. Deep. Lingering. And the sheets tangled around his legs, damp with sweat and something else โsomething worse. Then it hit him.Clark.Barely covered. Skin marred with darkened bruises and red marks that Adamโs handsโhis handsโhad left behind. The bite marks at the base of Clarkโs neck. The faint outline of teeth against pale skin. The way his chest rose and fell, lips parted, a mess of tangled blond hair sprawled over the pillow. He looked ruined.Adam swallowed hard.`What the fuck did I do?โThe memories clawed back like a slow burn. The rough kisses. The bruising grip. Clarkโs gasping, stuttering pleas. The bed creaking beneath the relentle
The second bottle was already half empty.Clarkโs glass dangled loosely between his fingers, half-forgotten. The amber burn had long since softened to something gentler. Warmer. It dulled the edges, smoothed out the cracks. But the fire inside him? That wasnโt from the scotch.It was from Adam.Barefoot, loose sweatpants slung low... he sprawled across the couch, the muscles in his chest and arms carved deep beneath dark skin. The light brown of his eyes gleamed under the dim lamplight, their sharpness dulled only slightly by the alcohol. Every now and then, Adamโs hand curled lazily around his glass, swirling the drink, his fingers broad and rough. Unbothered. Unapologetically masculine.And Clark? Clark was eating him alive.He wasnโt hiding it anymore.Why should he? The flush on his cheeks wasnโt just from the alcohol. The way his eyes lingered a second too long, traced the line of Adamโs collarbone, the slope of his shouldersโnone of it was subtle. And A
Clarkโs phone buzzed on the coffee table, vibrating against the glass. He glanced at the screen, Masahiro flashing in bold letters.He sighed, snatching it up. โMasahiro.โโClark.โ Masahiroโs voice was clipped, but not tense. โGood. Youโre alive.โโIs that disappointment I hear?โ Clarkโs tone was effortlessly dry. โOr were you hoping Iโd leave you with one less headache?โโWe went to your place. It was empty.โโYes, Iโm aware. Thatโs generally the goal when one isnโt home.โโWe heard about the gunfire.โ Masahiro ignored the jab. โYou alright?โClark adjusted his glasses with precise, deliberate finesse. โCharmed, as always.โโAnd where are you?โClark hesitated. He could practically hear the judgment loading.โAdamโs.โA pause. Just long enough to register the surprise without voicing it.โOf course you are.โ Masahiroโs voice was too level. โAnd this decision was made with the full clarity of your legal genius?โโObviously. Nothing
Smoke still clung to Clarkโs jacket like a ghost he couldnโt shake. Heโd barely had time to process the ambushโjust flashes of gunfire, Adam shoving him down, the brutal jolt of the car door slamming shut. Now they were speeding down a back road, the city lights thinning behind them.Clark stared out the window, heart still jackhammering under his ribs. Asphalt blurred under the tires. The direction felt wrong.โThis isnโt the hotel district,โ he said, adjusting his glasses with clipped precision. โWhere are we going?โAdam didnโt look at him. His grip on the wheel was tight, jaw clenched. โMy place.โClark blinked. โYour what?โโMy place,โ Adam repeated. โWeโre layinโ low.โClark snapped his head toward him. โSince when is your house suddenly the panic room? Take me to a hotel.โAdam exhaled, sharp and irritated. โA hotel ainโt safe.โโAnd your place is?โโYeah.โClark scoffed. โThat a joke? Whatโs next, you gonna tuck me in with a loaded Glo
The door clicked shut behind them, soft but final.Clark was the first to move, striding across the room and dropping his file folder onto the table like it had offended him. He didnโt take off his coat. Didnโt loosen his tie. Just leaned forward, both palms on the table, head low.The air felt like it hadnโt been breathed in properly for hours.Masahiro stood near the wall, arms folded, expression unreadable as always. His coat was still buttoned, not a hair out of place, voice low and clipped.โYou did well,โ he said.Clark didnโt lift his head. โThey were the ones who did well.โโDonโt be modest. You controlled the tempo from the moment you stood up,โ Masahiro added, voice firm. โEven she couldnโt shake the narrative.โClark finally straightened. Adjusted his glasses. โSheโll try harder on monday.โโAnd youโll handle it,โ Masahiro replied simply. โYouโre still one of the best in Middlesbrough, whether youโre spiraling or not.โFrom the corner,