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Chapter 218
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2025-03-10 20:30:09The atmosphere in Masahiro’s office was thick with tension.
Clark stepped in first, his suit crisp, posture composed, despite the hangover weighing on him. Adam followed, silent, imposing, watching.
Masahiro looked up from his desk. "Clark."
Clark nodded. "Masahiro."
Arthur was already there, sitting stiffly, his hands gripping the edge of his chair like he’d been waiting for this moment.
Masahiro turned slightly. "Cooper, the file."
Arthur was fast—too fast. He grabbed it like it was life or death, shoving it toward Clark before Clark even sat down.
Clark narrowed his eyes. Noted that.
He flipped the file open, eyes scanning the legal jargon, the cold, hard details of Cassidy’s case.
A slow exhale.
"Alright. Let’s tear this apart."
Masahiro leaned back slightly. "What’s going to be the prosecution’s
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Gold & Sand Chapter 219
The drive back to the police station was tense. Arthur sat in the backseat, rigid, arms crossed, eyes locked on the window like it held all the answers he didn't have. Clark, on the other hand, had his usual ice-cold detachment in place. Legs crossed, elbow resting on the door, flipping through emails on his phone like he wasn’t sitting next to a literal criminal acting as his bodyguard. Adam? Adam was watching them both, the way Arthur’s knee bounced, the way Clark’s fingers were tight around his phone despite the bored expression. He smirked. "Damn. This car ride’s fuckin’ depressing." Arthur didn’t respond. Clark didn’t even look up. "Then drive faster, MacDougall." Adam let out a low chuckle but did exactly that. When they pulled up in front of the station, Arthur finally moved. He unclipped his seatbelt, hesitated, then muttered, "Thanks." Clark barely glanced at him. "Try not to look like you’re mourning your own goddamn funeral in there." Arthur gritted his teeth but
Last Updated : 2025-03-10Gold & Sand Chapter 220
Clark barely spared a glance at Adam as he grabbed his keys off the table, his movements brisk, sharp with unspoken intent. His fingers curled around the cool metal, the faint clink echoing through the quiet apartment. Adam, stretched out on the couch, remote in one hand and a beer in the other, didn’t even bother turning his head. "Where are you going?" Clark exhaled. Didn’t slow. Didn’t stop, "Outside," That was all he said before crossing the room and reaching for the door. Adam let out a slow sigh, taking his time to put down the remote. Then stood. Clark heard the shift of weight behind him. He didn’t have to turn around to know what was coming next. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he pulled the door open. "Do you have to follow me everywhere?" Adam, now standing a few feet behind him, met his irritation with the same lazy indifference. "Yeah," he replied, completely unfazed. "That’s kinda the job." Clark clenched his jaw, his fingers
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Clark woke up to a weight against his back.At first, it barely registered—just warmth, skin against skin, the rough scratch of stubble against his shoulder.Then, hands.A firm grip dragging down his waist, fingers digging in with possession rather than affection.Clark stiffened. “Morning, sweetheart,” the man behind him murmured, voice thick with sleep, lazy and satisfied. His teeth skimmed the shell of Clark’s ear. “How ‘bout a morning round?”Clark’s eyes snapped open. `Fucking hell. ´He was too hungover for this.He pushed back, dislodging the man’s hands. “Yeah, no. Get out.”The guy didn’t move.Didn’t even hesitate.Instead, he chuckled, slow and deep, tightening his grip. “Aww, don’t be like that. You were real into it last night.”
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Clark strode through the quiet corridor of the courthouse, his footsteps measured, precise. The air inside was different from outside—stale, cold, controlled. The kind of air that held centuries of judgment, of verdicts that decided lives, of whispered deals that never made it to paper.Adam trailed a few steps behind, hands in his pockets, casual, but present. He wasn’t following Clark, exactly. Just… making sure he went where he was supposed to. That was the job.They stopped in front of Judge Fitzgerald’s office.Clark barely hesitated before reaching for the handle."You stay here," he said over his shoulder.Adam let out a small huff, leaning against the wall like he hadn’t planned on moving anyway. "Yeah, yeah. Go do your thing, lawyer boy."Clark didn’t bother responding. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.Judge Fitzgerald’s office
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The elevator hummed softly as it jolted back to life. The sudden return of motion sent a flicker of relief through Adam, but his focus wasn’t on the elevator anymore.The lights flickered once, then stabilized. The number panel above the door blinked. 10. 9.Ding.The doors slid open at the ninth floor.Clark moved before Adam could register it.A sharp breath, a quick motion—he reached for the emergency stop button and pressed it.The elevator jerked. Stopped.The doors, obediently waiting, remained open, revealing the quiet, dimly lit hallway of the ninth floor.Clark stepped out.Not hurried, not frantic—but decisive. Like someone who had made up their mind and would not be convinced otherwise.Adam watched him, not moving at first.Then he sighed, let the doors slide wider, and stepped out behind him.He didn’t say anything
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Adam stepped into the apartment and immediately regretted it.`What a mess. ´The coffee table was cluttered with half-empty beer cans, pizza boxes stacked haphazardly, some still open. The TV flickered with muted images, casting a dim glow across the room.Clark was slouched on the couch, dressed in a loose-fitting T-shirt and soft pants that barely clung to his hips. His glasses sat low on his nose, one hand adjusting them lazily as he turned his gaze toward Adam."So, you’re back," Clark mused, voice flat but not surprised.Adam let out a breath, stepping further inside. "Yeah."Without asking, he reached for a slice of pizza from one of the open boxes.Clark’s expression twisted in mild offense. "Are you—"Adam ignored him, taking a bite.Clark huffed. "For fuck’s sake, at least ask.""Why?" Adam mumbled through his bite, chewi
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Adam stepped into the café, the scent of freshly ground coffee and something sweet hanging in the air. His sharp eyes swept the place, spotting them immediately.Matthew, sprawled across the seat like he owned the place, one arm lazily draped over Masahiro’s shoulder, fingers idly tracing circles on his wrist. The contrast between the two was almost comical—Masahiro sat stiff, composed, his crisp white dress shirt neatly tucked, tie in place, an air of authority surrounding him even in a casual setting. Matthew, on the other hand, exuded nothing but comfort—shirt slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, smirking at whatever Masahiro wasn’t reacting to.Adam snorted to himself and made his way over.The moment Matthew noticed him, his grin widened.“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite gangster turned babysitter,” Matthew teased, gesturing to the seat across from them. “Come, sit.
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Adam stepped out of the elevator, a plastic bag dangling from his fingers, filled with actual food—not whiskey, not beer, not the half-eaten garbage Clark pretended was sustenance. Something real. Clark didn’t eat properly. Clark didn’t sleep properly. Clark sure didn’t take care of himself properly. And if Adam was stuck being his babysitter, then fine. He’d do the bare minimum. The apartment door was unlocked. Adam frowned. That wasn’t right. Clark always locked his door. Paranoid bastard made sure of it. He stepped inside, pushing it shut behind him, eyes sweeping the space. The lights were on. The air smelled faintly of whiskey and cologne, the remnants of something heavy lingering in the air. Too quiet. "Clark?" No answer. Adam’s gaze flicked to the coffee table. Clark’s keys. `Still there. So he hadn’t left´The tension in Adam’s shoulders eased—slightly. He exhaled, adjusting the bag in his ha
Last Updated : 2025-03-14
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Gold & Sand Chapter 282
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
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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
Gold & Sand Chapter 280
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,
Gold & Sand Chapter 278
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
Gold & Sand Chapter 277
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,
Gold & Sand Chapter 276
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
Gold & Sand Chapter 274
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
