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Chapter 36
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2024-12-13 20:30:43Masahiro moved noiselessly, his black shoes making no sound on the polished floor. He checked each stall methodically, pushing open the doors one by one. Empty.
Satisfied, he stepped back to the entrance, pressing his back against the cold metal door to keep it secure. His hand moved to his watch, tapping a discreet button to activate the communicator. A faint buzz confirmed the connection.
“Team, this is Payne,” he said in a low, controlled tone, his voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through him. “We’re inside. No sign of Mr. K, but we’ve confirmed Rocco is here.”
There was a beat of silence before David’s voice crackled over the line. “Rocco?”
"Yes," Masahiro confirmed, his tone clipped. "Looks like he's the one running the show tonight. No sign of Mr. K at this time."
A sharp exhale came through the line, followed by a muttered curse. "Damn it." David's voice steadied as he ad
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Hours later, Masahiro slowly regained consciousness. The beeping of machines and the dim light filtering through the drawn curtains pulled him from the depths of sleep. As his eyes adjusted, he caught sight of Matthew slumped in a chair beside his bed, his blond hair tousled and tattooed arms heavy on the table.The sight brought a wave of irritation mingled with relief. They were in this together, whether they liked it or not. Masahiro shifted slightly, the movement causing a sharp sting in his side.Matthew stirred, blinking rapidly as he focused on Masahiro. Relief washed over his features. “You’re awake! Thank God,” he said, standing up and moving closer to the bed.Masahiro's eyes flickered over him, and something silent, some understanding, passed between them. The air was thick, charged with emotion neither wanted to acknowledge. Matthew, for once, was visibly relieved."What happened?" Masahiro asked, trying to piece together the
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The sterile smell of the hospital mingled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food as Matthew stepped into Masahiro's hospital room, balancing a tray laden with lunch. He had gone to the trouble of preparing something decent at home, determined to take care of his reluctant partner. Dull and insipid options from the cafeteria, Matthew had hoped the meal he'd lovingly cooked would lift Masahiro's spirits."Hey, I brought you lunch," Matthew said as he set the tray on a small table beside Masahiro's bed. He beamed with pride at his handiwork: the plate set out in fine fashion, grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, rice.Masahiro turned away, and there was cynicism written into his eyes. "I'm not eating that.""Come on, it's good for you," Matthew implored, crossing his arms, "you need to gain your strength.”"I said no." Masahiro's voice was firm, but the defiance didn't quite rule out curiosity. "You could have poisoned it."Matthew raised
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The apartment was in semi-darkness, the soft glow of a lamp dancing across the walls in small curves. Masahiro was sitting on the couch with his cast resting on a pillow as he watched Matthew rummage through the first aid supplies, they had bought. The dancing light brought into prominence the focus of the blue eyes when he readied to change the bandages on Masahiro's arm.“You know, you're pretty good at this," Masahiro said, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I didn't really think you'd be so… capable."Matthew looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Surprised? You think just because I've spent time in a prison cell, I don't know how to take care of myself?”"No, it's just that most people wouldn't connect 'ex-capo' with 'first aid expert,'" Masahiro replied, his eyes fixed keenly on Matthew as he carefully unwrapped the old bandage.Matthew chuckled low and warm. "Well, you'd be surprised how much you can learn when you're on your
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The precinct was bustling with activity as Matthew stepped inside, the scent of coffee and ink mingling with the hum of ringing phones and hurried conversations.He made his way to the reception desk, where a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a weary smile was typing away at her computer. She glanced up as he approached.“Can I help you?”“I’m here to see the new detective assigned for the Mr. K´s case,” Matthew said, keeping his tone neutral.The woman nodded, clicking through her screen. “Ah, the interim partner for the Mr. K case.” She gestured toward the second floor. “His office is upstairs, second door on the right. Can’t miss it… he’s probably got his feet up on the desk.”Matthew raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing, simply nodding his thanks before heading toward the staircase.As he reached the second floor, he found the door slightly ajar. Pus
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The small interrogation room was heavy with the scent of stale coffee and tension. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed above as Matthew sat across from Rocco, his hands folded on the table. Lewis stood beside him, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering. Rocco, slouched in his chair, refused to meet their eyes, his defiance clear in the tight set of his jaw.Lewis leaned in; his voice cool but firm. "This is your last chance, Rocco. If you don't give us something, if you don’t tell us who’s behind all of this, you’re done. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison, and we both know you won’t last in there. Not with that kind of reputation."Rocco’s lips twisted into a smirk. "You think I’m scared of prison?" he sneered. "You really think I care about your threats?"Matthew’s eyes flicked to Lewis for a split second before returning to Rocco. "It’s not about scaring you," Matthew said, his voice sharp. "It’
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Matthew entered Masahiro’s room, carrying a tray of food with deliberate care. He placed it on the nightstand, his gaze flickering to Masahiro, who was lounging in his chair, staring blankly out the window.“Dinner’s here,” Matthew said, trying to keep his tone neutral.Masahiro didn’t even glance at him. “I’m not eating that,” he muttered.Matthew blinked, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean? It’s what you asked for.”“I don’t want it.” Masahiro’s voice was clipped, dismissive.Matthew’s patience was already running thin. “You need to eat,” he said firmly. “The doctor said—”Masahiro cut him off with a sharp laugh, humorless and bitter. “I don’t care what the doctor said. I’m tired of being treated like some invalid. I’m not helpless, Smith.”The words struck a nerve. Matthew folded his arms, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think I want to be here, catering to you?” he shot ba
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Matthew lounged on the couch in the living room, the flickering glow of the television illuminating his face as he scrolled through channels mindlessly.The sound of Masahiro´s door´s room creaking open drew his attention. Masahiro stepped out of his bedroom, and despite the cast encasing his right arm, he looked stunning. He wore a fitted black shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and trim waist, the fabric hugging his toned physique perfectly. The dark shirt was paired with dark blue slim-fit jeans that showcased his long legs and made him look effortlessly stylish. His black boots added an edge to the outfit, while a minimalist silver watch on his left wrist gleamed subtly against his skin. The overall effect was striking; he exuded an air of confidence that was impossible to ignore.Matthew raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Where do you think you’re going?”Masahiro paused, casting a glance over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “That’s n
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Matthew stood frozen in place, his heart hammering in his chest as he stared down at Masahiro’s crumpled form. The man who always had his cool, who could outsmart and outmaneuver anyone, was now lying motionless, unconscious on the floor. His mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in frantic chaos.´What the hell am I doing? ´His stomach churned as he tried to suppress the rising tide of panic, but it surged anyway. Every time he tried to convince himself that it was nothing more than a drunken stumble, his eyes betrayed him… Masahiro’s pallor, his stillness, the way he hadn’t even made a sound when he collapsed, rattled him.´Focus, ´ Matthew ordered himself, gripping Masahiro’s body and lifting him up, adrenaline surging through him, making the task seem easier than it should have been. It was a strange contrast, the sharpness in his limbs despite the dizziness threatening to overpower him.
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Gold & Sand Chapter 275
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
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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
Gold & Sand Chapter 272
Matthew didn’t wait for an invitation—just dropped into the chair across from Clark like he owned it.Masahiro sat beside him with all the enthusiasm of a man attending a funeral, pulling out his phone before the chair even touched the floor.Matthew grinned, eyes on Clark. “You two are cute. The bodyguard act? Adorable. But let’s not pretend you’re not fucking like a side plot to a very illegal soap opera.”Clark, unbothered, lifted his wineglass with practiced elegance. “And you’re talking like a man who’s only slept with criminals and delusions.”Matthew’s grin widened. “Facts.”Adam didn’t look up. Just kept eating his burger like nothing in the room concerned him.“Adam’s real quiet today,” Matthew added, leaning his chin on his palm. “All those hickeys drain your vocabulary?”Clark sliced a piece of venison with clean, silent precision. “Some of us have class. Others… wear too much cologne and overshare.”Masahiro didn’t even glance up. “Don’t e
Gold & Sand Chapter 271
The trial day had ended with the defense soaring and the prosecution bleeding.Masahiro, Arthur, and Matthew stood in the hallway, a loose cluster of tension and exhaustion. Arthur clutched a half-empty water bottle, his fingers still shaking from the witness stand. Masahiro stood tall and unreadable, as always.Matthew looked like he’d just come out of a concert—buzzing, amused, and entirely too observant.Clark approached with that predator-still-in-courtroom calm, suit untouched, expression cool. Adam was behind him, one step back, hands in his pockets, saying nothing—like always.“Hell of a show,” Matthew said as Clark joined them. “You made that prosecutor look like she was reciting a grocery list under threat.”Clark only lifted a brow. “She wasn’t worth more than that.”Masahiro gave a nod. “Strong performance.”Arthur murmured, “Nathaniel might actually walk…”Clark nodded slightly. “Let’s not jinx it.”They stood there for a beat.The
Gold & Sand Chapter 270
The door shut behind them with a soft, echoing click.Clark didn’t speak. Neither did Nathaniel.For a long moment, they just stood there in the defense room—alone, away from the murmuring gallery and the jury’s blank stares.Clark finally moved.He set his notes down on the table, reached up, and took off his glasses. Not dramatically. Just… tired.His fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose like he could squeeze the tension out through his skull.Nathaniel watched him.Still in his seat. Back straight. Calm in the way someone learns from spending time around chaos.“You didn’t have to say all that,” Nathaniel said quietly.Clark dropped his hand. Didn’t look at him yet. “Yeah, well. I did.”“You made me sound like a hero.”Clark finally glanced up. The fatigue didn’t soften his tone. “No. I made you sound like a man who didn’t fire a gun.”Nathaniel gave a small, humorless laugh. “Still a lie.”Clark sat down slowly across from
Gold & Sand Chapter 269
The courtroom felt colder.Not physically—just… off.Like every breath Clark took was being measured in decibels.Like the walls were closer.The gallery buzzed with quiet anticipation—reporters in tailored neutral, pens ready to cut. Matthew sat on the far end, half-scowling. Arthur hovered near Masahiro, face unreadable.Nathaniel sat beside Clark—still, calm, like he didn’t feel the pressure digging into the back of his spine.And Clark?Perfect.Tie sharp. Glasses gleaming. Posture textbook.Only Adam saw the truth.His tie was straight, but his breath was shallow. That wasn’t confidence. That was survival.Adam watched from the last bench, arms folded.Motionless. But primed.At the front of the courtroom, Diana Halvorsen stood like she’d built the place.Flawless blonde hair, heels like blades, voice clear as verdicts.She turned to the jury with clinical poise.“Let’s talk about narrative.”“You want to paint Bishop as a savior’s assistant?” she asked, voice smooth. “Then tell
Gold & Sand Chapter 268
Arthur sat at his desk, staring at the clock.3:59 PM.He shifted in his chair. Cleared his throat. Glanced at the file in front of him, then at Masahiro—just across the room, seated, silent, flipping through a thick report with surgical focus.Arthur hesitated.Then looked again.Masahiro didn’t look up. Not immediately. Just turned another page with that same eerie calm.Then, without raising his voice or his head, he said, “I know exactly what you want.”Arthur straightened. “I—uh—what?”Masahiro looked at him now. Direct. Sharp. “You want to visit Cassidy.”Arthur’s ears burned. “Sir, I was going to—”“You’re allowed,” Masahiro interrupted. “Go.”Arthur blinked. “Really?”Masahiro returned to his file. “You’ll be back before shift ends.”Arthur nodded quickly, standing. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”Masahiro said nothing more.Arthur cleaned his desk—neatly, as always—then grabbed his coat and bag. He moved quickly but tried n
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Adam got up from the couch and tugged the curtain back.Clark was outside on the balcony, sitting on the tile floor like it wasn’t cold, wearing nothing but Adam’s hoodie. Legs bare. Hair a mess. Staring at the skyline like it had wronged him.Adam slid the glass door open. Leaned against the frame.“You really gonna sit out there half-naked like a damn raccoon in a hoodie?”Clark didn’t look over. “What do you care?”“I don’t.” Adam stepped out. “Just don’t want to explain to Masahiro why you froze your ass off in my perimeter.”Clark exhaled through his nose. “I’m not cold.”“You’re barefoot on stone, dumbass.”Clark muttered, “I’m not here for a fashion lecture.”Adam didn’t rise to it. Just crouched beside him, arms on his knees, voice low. Calm. But with that steel under it.“You need a signal.”Clark blinked. “What?”“In public. Court. Crowd. Whatever. You’re too proud to say ‘help.’ So don’t. Just tap.”Clark stared at him.
