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Chapter 175
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2025-02-20 10:30:20As Cassidy steered the car through the quiet streets, Arthur sat back in his seat, feeling the soft hum of the road beneath them. After a moment, he couldn’t help but smile.
“Your mom really knows her way around a kitchen. I think I ate enough to last me a week.”
Cassidy’s eyes flicked briefly to him, and a small, almost imperceptible smirk appeared on his lips. “I noticed. You couldn’t stop picking at everything. But it’s cute how you have no self-control.”
Arthur looked over at him, unaware of the possessiveness in Cassidy’s tone. “What? It was all so good! You saw me try to be polite, but that lasagna… man, it’s like she put a spell on it.”
Cassidy’s expression shifted slightly, but his voice remained playful. “You were staring at the Cheesy Breadsticks like you were about to take a bite out of my hand. If you wanted it that bad, you could’ve just asked.&rd
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Gold & Sand Chapter 176
Arthur stepped into his studio apartment, kicking off his shoes before throwing himself onto the bed. A wide grin stretched across his face as he stared at the ceiling, his heart still racing with excitement. He had just met Cassidy’s family. They had accepted him.For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged somewhere, like he was part of something special. The warmth of their welcome still lingered in his chest, and he let out a small, contented sigh.But then his gaze drifted to the nightstand beside him.His smile faltered.There, in a simple wooden frame, was a picture of Alexandra. His twin sister. The pang of sadness hit him like a cold wave, washing away the warmth of the evening. For a moment, he felt like he had forgotten—forgotten why he had joined the police in the first place, why he had spent years chasing shadows.He reached for the frame, tracing his fingers over the glass as he stared at her familiar face
Last Updated : 2025-02-20Gold & Sand Chapter 177
Arthur was at his desk, flipping through the last pages of a report when the sound of the office door opening made him glance up. Masahiro walked in, his sharp gaze scanning the room before heading straight to his desk."Morning, Cooper," Masahiro said as he set down his briefcase."Morning, sir," Arthur responded.He watched Masahiro organize his things, his movements precise and efficient. Without realizing it, Arthur found himself staring. Masahiro, always perceptive, caught the lingering gaze and turned his head slightly."Do you have something to say, Cooper?"Arthur immediately straightened, averting his eyes. "Uh—sir… It's just—"Masahiro raised an eyebrow. "Just what? Spit it out."Arthur exhaled, gathering his thoughts. "My mother is sick, and I… I'm the only family she has. I'd like to go to Bristol for two days to see her."Masahiro, now sitting down, rested his elbows on the desk. "You took this long just to ask for
Last Updated : 2025-02-21Gold & Sand Chapter 178
Arthur was on the bed, staring at the ceiling as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. The cheap let in a sliver of morning light, casting a faint glow across the cramped room. He reached for his phone without enthusiasm, glancing at the caller ID.Cassidy.His fingers hesitated before answering."Morning, sweetheart."Arthur rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. "Morning," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep."How did you sleep? By this voice, you’re still in bed."Arthur turned onto his side, facing the window. "I slept well. What about you?" A pause. "Yeah… I’m still in bed.""I slept well too, just missing you." Cassidy’s voice was low, teasing. "So, did you manage to ask for a few days off from your boss? You didn’t tell me anything else."Arthur’s breath hitched for a second. "Uh—yeah… I’m in Bristol right now.""I s
Last Updated : 2025-02-21Gold & Sand Chapter 179
Arthur dragged himself out of bed, groggy from yesterday’s stakeout, which had amounted to absolutely nothing. His body ached from sitting for hours, watching a man live the most painfully normal life imaginable. Grocery shopping, work, home. That was it. No shady meetings, no clandestine phone calls, no suspicious tattoos appearing or disappearing. Just a guy living his life while Arthur wasted his.Today had to be different.He shuffled into the shower, standing under the water as if it could cleanse away his frustration. Throwing on casual clothes that wouldn’t scream undercover cop, he grabbed his keys and stepped out into the cold morning air.This Alan Blackwood—the one from Cargo Fleet—was supposed to be a little rougher. An ex-convict, a former drug dealer. There had to be something there.Maybe this one wouldn’t spend the entire day debating which brand of cereal to buy.The morni
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Arthur was sleeping when the sharp sound of his doorbell pulled him from the depths of his dreams. Groggy, he rubbed his eyes and pushed himself out of bed, his bare feet padding against the floor as he made his way to the door. He squinted at the peephole but barely had time to register the figure outside before he unlocked and opened it.Cassidy.Before Arthur could even form a word, Cassidy grabbed him by both cheeks, pulling him into a bruising kiss. Arthur let out a muffled sound of surprise, his fingers gripping Cassidy’s sleeves as his lips moved instinctively against the other man’s.“Mmm…” he breathed into the kiss, warmth spreading through his chest.They pulled away, but only slightly, Cassidy’s hands still cradling his face. His gaze was dark, filled with something unreadable. "I missed you," Cassidy murmured, his voice husky and low.Before Arthur could respond, Cassidy pushed him backward, guiding
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Masahiro gathered his things, adjusting his coat as he moved toward the door. “Cooper, I’m going. See you tomorrow.”Arthur, seated at his desk, nodded. “See you tomorrow, sir.”The moment Masahiro left, Arthur slumped back in his chair, exhaling deeply.He had told Cassidy he wouldn’t see him tonight. That had been necessary. He needed space—not from Cassidy, but from the lies.He was one step ahead now. He needed to finish it.Glancing at his wrist, he checked the time. 5:00 PM.The clubs would open at 6:00 PM. That meant he had an hour to get ready, to prepare himself for whatever came next.Arthur knew one thing for certain—Mirage Nightclub was the castle. The boss’s lair.No more chasing shadows. No more tailing Alan Blackwood. Tonight, he was walking straight into the lion’s den.Arthur gathered his things, hailed a cab, and headed home. The ride felt longer than usual, his mind running in circles. By the time he r
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Cassidy´s POVCassidy sat at his desk, one hand lazily swirling the whiskey in his glass while his other flipped through the work reports laid out before him. Numbers, transactions, payouts—the real language of power. His territory, the nightlife operations, wasn’t just about keeping the bars, clubs, and casinos profitable.It was about facilitating business for the others.Drug trafficking? His venues provided secure spaces for transactions.Human trafficking? His clubs gave cover for movement and private rooms for discreet exchanges.Prostitution? His nightclubs doubled as hunting grounds for the right clientele.In return, the capos who handled those operations paid their tribute—a percentage of their earnings flowing directly into his pockets.Clean on the surface, dirty underneath. Just how he liked it.Cassidy exhaled, tapping his ring against
Last Updated : 2025-02-24Gold & Sand Chapter 183
Arthur’s breath came in sharp, uneven bursts as he stared, his mind refusing to piece the reality in front of him together. His chest felt tight, his pulse erratic, and for the first time in his life, he had no words.The man with the black rose tattoo was standing before him. The man he had been chasing, tracking, hunting for so long. The murderer of his sister. The ghost that haunted his every step.And it was Cassidy.His Cassidy.His fingers twitched at his sides, fists clenching, unclenching, heart hammering so violently it hurt. It doesn’t make sense. It can’t make sense. But the tattoo was there, bold and dark against Cassidy’s skin, and suddenly everything fell into place.Cassidy had known.He had known from the beginning.Arthur’s voice cracked when he finally spoke. “You… It was always you.”Cassidy exhaled, tilting his head, watching Arthur unravel in real-time. There
Last Updated : 2025-02-24
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Masahiro stood without a word. Matthew didn’t let him get far. He stepped in front of him, blocking the doorway like it was instinct. “You’re not going without me.” Masahiro’s eyes narrowed. Calm, but tight. “You’re not a cop.” “Didn’t stop you from dragging me into deep cover operations.” “That was different.” “Was it?” Matthew snapped. “Because back then, we had no backup, no names, no way out. And I still walked beside you every night — pretending to be yours before I ever really was.” Masahiro’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Matthew stepped closer. “You trusted me then — when we were both lying, bleeding, and one wrong move meant a bullet to the head." “And now?” Masahiro’s voice was too quiet. “Now you’re mine for real. That’s the difference.” Matthew froze. Masahiro didn’t stop. “Now I can’t lose you.” Silence. Heavy. Matthew’s breath hitched — not in shock, but in recognition. “Then don’t shut me out.” He reached up, touching Masahir
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The hospital smelled like bleach and endings.A nurse unplugged the IV drip with practiced ease, her eyes never quite meeting Cassidy’s. A guard waited by the door, checking the clipboard, another stood near the window — hand near his holster, like Cassidy might suddenly grow wings and vanish.Cassidy rolled his shoulder once, slowly, wincing faintly as the cuff clicked back around his wrist.The coat they handed him was his. Dark and worn in. He slid it on himself, one-handed, with a little flourish — because even now, he wouldn’t let them dress him.Then he walked.Unhurried. Smooth.Like the hallway was his,like the cuffs were just accessories,like he hadn’t spent a month in bed bleeding under sterile lights.At the end of the corridor stood Arthur.No uniform.Just a dark blazer over a pressed white shirt, slim black trousers, and clean shoes that didn’t echo on the floor — only the sound of Cassidy’s boots did that.Arthur’s hands were in his pockets.His posture straight, stif
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Adam didn’t waste time.Didn’t ask.He grabbed Clark by the waist, manhandled him down onto the couch, rough enough to jolt a barked laugh out of him.Clark hit the cushions with a soft thud, sprawling like a prince demanding tribute — T-shirt rucked halfway up, legs already spreading without shame."Again, brute?" he gasped, grinning. "Couch this time? What’s next? Roof?"Adam didn’t answer.He just shoved his knee between Clark’s thighs, leaning down heavy, pinning him with his whole body.Clark bucked against him immediately — reckless, mouthy — dragging his nails lightly down Adam’s arms just to provoke a reaction."Fuck," Clark gasped, the word slipping out sharp like a spark. "You're addicted."Adam growled low in his throat — not denying it.Clark moaned again, softer this time, head tipping back against the armrest."Mmh—ah—"The sound ripped out of him easy, helpless, like breathing.Adam caught his wrists in one big hand,
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The engine rumbled under them, steady and low as Adam turned onto the main road.The ride was quiet at first — just the muted hum of tires over wet asphalt, the occasional creak of the gearshift.Then the radio clicked to life.Low at first.Just background noise.The first drifting chords of "Crazy" by Seal sliding out of the speakers.Clark, half-dozing in the passenger seat, cracked an eye open.He smiled — that slow, rare thing, all crooked teeth and messy hair — and reached for the dial.Turned the volume up.Just a little.Then a little more.Adam cut him a sideways look.Clark didn’t notice.Or maybe he did and just didn't care.He leaned back in the seat, loose and lazy, eyes slipping closed again — mouthing the words, soft and off-key:"We're never gonna survive... unless we get a little..."Adam’s hand tightened around the wheel."You serious right now?" he muttered.Clark didn’t even open his eyes.Just pushed his glasses up with two fingers, hair falling into his forehead
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The hospital hallway smelled like antiseptic and something tired.Arthur pushed open the door to Cassidy’s room without knocking — he didn’t need to.Cassidy was half-sitting up in the bed, one arm cuffed to the railing, IV line taped to the crook of his elbow. The hospital gown was loose on him, but the smirk was all intact — sharp, crooked, and stubborn as hell.Arthur didn’t even make it two steps before Cassidy snagged him by the front of his jacket and dragged him down into a kiss.Rough. Fast. All teeth and defiance.Arthur made a small sound of protest, more shock than complaint, trying not to jostle the IV. Cassidy didn’t seem to give a damn. His mouth moved against Arthur’s like they had all the time in the world and none of it to waste.Arthur pulled back first, breathless. “You’re cuffed to the bed, you lunatic.”Cassidy grinned, feral. “Doesn’t stop me.”Arthur flushed but didn’t move away. He hesitated — just a second — then reached down,
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The light through the blinds was thin and grey, slicing across the bed in cold stripes.Adam woke first. Always did.Clark was draped over him like a cat that refused to admit it wanted warmth — face buried near Adam’s shoulder, one hand fisted tight in the front of Adam’s hoodie.Adam stared at the ceiling a beat, jaw tight, before peeling himself away. Clark muttered something in his sleep but didn’t wake, just curled deeper into the stolen hoodie like it was stitched from safety itself. Adam left him there. Gym first. Routine never stopped. By the time Adam came back — sweat cooling under his T-shirt, heart steady — Clark was awake. Barefoot, hair a wreck, and swimming in another one of Adam’s hoodies like he’d been born in it. He padded into the kitchen half-conscious, yawning into his wrist. “Mornin',” Adam muttered, grabbing the coffee pot. Clark just grunted and stole a mug without asking.
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The apartment door clicked shut behind them.Clark dropped his coat on the entryway bench with an exaggerated sigh and muttered, “I am emotionally exhausted. And not in a sexy, Victorian-tragedy kind of way. I mean in the ‘my feet hurt and my soul’s tired’ kind of way.”Adam, already heading for the kitchen, tossed back, “Then take your heels off, sweetheart.”Clark gave him a long, dry look. “They are Italian leather Oxfords. But yes, thank you, masculine voice of reason.”Adam opened the fridge, grabbed leftover rice, and dumped it unceremoniously into a pan. A beat passed, then the stove clicked to life. Clark wandered in behind him, slower, more graceful, toeing off his shoes like someone doing a product demo.“You’re cooking,” Clark said with a soft note of surprise.“I’m heating shit up.”“For you or for both of us?”Adam didn’t look up. “Depends. You gonna whine the whole time?”Clark leaned against the counter, resting his chin in his hand. “Maybe. Depends. Are you going to be
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The apartment door shut behind them with a soft click. Masahiro shrugged off his coat and hung it by the door with mechanical efficiency. Matthew kicked his boots off lazily and dropped his keys into the bowl by the counter, same routine as always.Masahiro passed him in the hallway, unbothered. "I’m showering."Matthew nodded, grabbed a soda from the fridge, cracked it open. Silence stretched while the water started running. When Masahiro emerged ten minutes later, hair damp and towel slung around his neck, Matthew was still at the counter, drinking slowly.“We gonna talk about it?” Matthew asked without looking up.Masahiro paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “About what.”“Yumi.” Matthew turned now. Arms folded. Voice calm, but not playful. “How she thinks I sleep in your guest room because of some old undercover job we did. And you let her think that. Still.”Masahiro dried his hands with the towel, avoiding his eyes. “It’s easier.”“Easier for who?”Masahiro didn’t answer.Matthew
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The restaurant doors swung shut behind them, sealing in the scent of roasted garlic and expensive regret. The parking lot buzzed with leftover heat from the day, a few stray voices in the distance, heels clicking on pavement.Clark walked ahead with Masahiro, steps crisp, back straight, his fingers adjusting his sleeves as if court decorum extended into the streets. Masahiro matched his pace effortlessly—hands tucked into his coat pockets, eyes cold and precise as always."So," Masahiro said without looking at him, "how do you see the trial ending?"Clark didn’t hesitate. "Nathaniel will walk. Probably with a statement read by a trembling clerk and a jury that wants to forget the word 'testimony' for the rest of their lives."Masahiro gave a slow nod. "You're confident.""I'm always confident," Clark replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. "The difference is whether I admit it out loud."Masahiro’s eyes flicked to him, a hint of dry amusement. "You just did."Clark adjusted his gl
