Matthew stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders as the cold air wrapped around him.
Cassidy, standing beside him, shot him a look. “I hope you didn’t come here by bike.” Matthew smirked, popping his neck. “Nah. Came by car this time.” He tilted his head toward the lot. “There it is.” Cassidy hummed in approval. Meanwhile, a few steps behind them, Masahiro and Arthur emerged from The Ivory Ace. Arthur let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sir, thank you for coming to pick me up… But I actually came by car. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Masahiro wasn’t really listening. His eyes were locked ahead—on Matthew, walking with Cassidy. Arthur shifted uncomfortably, watching Masahiro’s gaze linger too long. Then Masahiro spoke, his voice low and firm. “I’m taking you home.”  Arthurs POVArthur frowned, gripping the car door handle but not getting in.He saw Masahiro getting close to Matthew and sighed. `Whatever. ´ If his boss wanted to talk to that mobster, that was his problem.Arthur had bigger things to think about.Like how his entire night had spiraled into chaos. Like how the man he’d been hunting for years—the man who killed his sister—turned out to be his own damn boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.Arthur clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe. `Focus. ´Arthur exhaled sharply, shaking his head. `Not my problem. ´He finally slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.Arthur exhaled through his nose, feeling the beginning of a headache pounding behind his eyes."What else could possibly happen tonight?" he muttered bitterly, rubbing his temple.
Cassidy´s POVCassidy and Matthew strode across the parking lot, the cool night air wrapping around them like a lingering whisper of unfinished business. Matthew rolled his shoulders, stretching lazily as he reached into his jacket for his cigarettes.“I’ll be right back,” Cassidy muttered, his tone detached as his gaze locked onto a figure waiting near the shadows.Matthew barely spared him a glance. “Cool,” he replied, lighting up. “Gonna take a moment to smoke a bit.”Cassidy didn’t respond. He was already moving, his mind shifting from the personal entanglements of the night to business—the one thing that always demanded his focus.As he approached, the associate, a broad-shouldered man in a dark gray suit, nodded in acknowledgment. His name was Luca, one of the mid-tier enforcers who handled logistics between Cassidy’s clubs and the more illicit businesses they qui
Matthew walked into the apartment, tossing the car keys onto the coffee table without a second thought. The familiar clatter filled the room, but he barely registered it. Behind him, Cassidy stepped in and, without a hint of grace, threw himself onto the couch, exhaling loudly. Matthew barely spared him a glance before shaking his head, a smirk curling on his lips. “Damn, Cassidy… you were fucking a cop.” Cassidy didn’t react. Matthew chuckled, crossing his arms. “A cop, Cassidy.” He shook his head in mock disbelief. “You’re really a fucking psycho.” Cassidy still didn’t react, just let his head rest against the back of the couch, his fingers absently tapping against his knee. But Matthew wasn’t done. “Didn’t you say people like us couldn’t get cozy with the police?” That finally got a reaction. Cassidy held back a laugh, eyes flickering with amusement. "Are you jealous, sweetheart?" Matthew threw his head back and laughed, clapping his hands. “Me? Jealous of you?” He scof
The night air hit Matthew as he descended the stairs, his boots echoing against the pavement. He reached his motorbike, throwing a leg over it and adjusting his gloves. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel trapped. Cassidy had set him free. And there was only one place he wanted to be. With Masahiro. Revving the engine, Matthew sped off into the night—straight toward Masahiro’s house. The night air was cold, but Matthew barely felt it as he sped through the streets, the wind cutting against his skin. Fifteen minutes. That’s how long it took before he pulled up in front of Masahiro’s building. He passed through the gate, his mind laser-focused on one thing. He wasn’t thinking about Cassidy. He wasn’t thinking about the past. He was only thinking about Masahiro. And when Masahiro opened that door? Matthew knew. He had made the right choice. Yet, as he swung his leg off the bike, something unexpected settled in his chest. It wasn’t doubt. It wasn’t regret. I
Arthur woke up to the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. For a moment, he thought maybe—just maybe—last night had been a bad dream. But as his eyes adjusted to the dim morning light filtering through his blinds, the truth settled in.It hadn’t been a nightmare. It had been real.Cassidy.Arthur dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. His mind was still struggling to process everything. The man he had fallen for, the one who had introduced him to his family, who had held him at night and whispered things that made him believe—was the same man he had spent years chasing. The same man he had seen that night. The Black Rose.And Cassidy had known.That part hurt the most. Arthur could handle being lied to, he could handle betrayal—but this? Cassidy had known from the start. He had known Arthur was looking for him. Known that Arthur was chasing the man with the black rose tattoo
It had been a day.Twenty-four hours since the messiest night of Arthur’s life.And yet, as he sat at his desk, trying to force himself to work, everything about that night still clung to him.It was supposed to be over by now.He should have woken up, gone about his usual routine, moved on.But reality had other plans.Because it wasn’t just a bad dream.It wasn’t some fleeting nightmare he could shake off.It was real.And now? Now he had to live with it.Arthur let out a long, exhausted sigh, his fingers tightening around his pen as he stared blankly at the documents in front of him.They blurred together, the words running into each other like ink spilling on paper. Meaningless.His mind was elsewhere.Cassidy’s voice.Cassidy’s presence.Cassidy’s dam
Cassidy leaned back in the driver’s seat, one arm draped over the steering wheel, eyes lazily watching the entrance of the police station. Arthur wasn’t out yet. That was fine. Cassidy had patience. His phone vibrated against the console. A glance at the screen. Julliette. He exhaled, smirking slightly before answering. “Jules.” “You finally pick up?” her voice came through, half amused, half annoyed. “I was about to call the morgue and check if you were lying in a ditch somewhere.” Cassidy chuckled. “Nah. Still breathing.” “Barely,” she quipped. “You sound like you just woke up.” Cassidy hummed, letting the familiar warmth of their routine sibling banter settle over him. Juliette was one of the few people in the world who didn’t demand anything from him. Didn’t expect explanations. Didn’t know. “What’s up?” he asked. She sighed. “Just checking in. You’re impossible to track down, you know that? And don’t say you’ve been busy—I know your version of ‘busy’ means running
Ethan’s hands rested casually on the steering wheel as he navigated through the city streets, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence. Arthur sat in the passenger seat, his posture tense, staring out the window without really seeing anything. His mind was elsewhere—caught in the wreckage of everything that had unraveled in the last few days. Ethan glanced at him, then back at the road. The silence was thick. Too thick. “So…” Ethan started, voice light, almost hesitant. “Didn’t know you were into men.” Arthur blinked. Slowly turned his head, his expression blank. “Huh?” Ethan shrugged, keeping his eyes ahead. “That guy back there. He said he was your boyfriend.” Arthur exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “He’s not.” Ethan hummed, clearly not buying it. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.” Arthur pressed his temple against the window. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. “I’m openly gay,” he muttered, voice low, distant. “That’s not the issue.” Ethan raised an eyebro
Allan stood near the entrance, phone to his ear, eyes scanning every corner like he expected gunfire.“This place wasn’t cold,” he said tightly. “They were here. Recent. Maybe minutes ago.”“Call it in," Masahiro said Allan was already doing it.“Ambulance. Crime Scene. Full sweep.”He hung up and turned, jaw locked.Matthew shifted beside Masahiro, voice low.“You’re sure he wasn’t supposed to die here?”Masahiro stood up.“No. He was supposed to be found.”Matthew looked down at Nathaniel, eyes dark.“A message.”“A warning,” Masahiro said. “To Cassidy. To us. To anyone who thinks you can burn Hudson and walk away clean.”The sirens grew louder.Boots crunched gravel outside.Masahiro’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then at Matthew.“Arthur?” Matthew askedMasahiro’s eyes hardened.“I will just Ignore it.”“He’s going to find out.”“When we’re ready,” Masahiro said. “Not while he’s unguarded. Not while Cassidy’s locked in a box and just waiting for an excuse to burn this
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
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
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,
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
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,
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.
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
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