The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as Masahiro stood at the counter, methodically pouring the dark liquid into a ceramic mug. The quiet hum of the early morning was broken only by the faint sounds of Clyde’s paws tapping against the floor as the cat followed him around.
Masahiro glanced down, raising an eyebrow at the cat’s persistent presence. “You don’t drink this,” he said dryly, gesturing to the coffee. “There’s food and water in your spot. Go.”
Clyde meowed in protest but didn’t budge, his tail flicking lazily as he watched Masahiro take his mug and head toward the balcony.
The morning air was crisp, a gentle breeze rustling through the city below as Masahiro leaned on the railing, the warm mug resting in his hands. He sipped his coffee slowly, his gaze wandering over the familiar urban sprawl. For a moment, everything seemed ordinary—the distant hum of traffic,
Masahiro sat in a café a few blocks away, his coffee forgotten as his eyes lingered on the street outside. The car was still there, parked in the same spot it had occupied since morning. This time, its engine was running, a faint plume of exhaust curling into the chilly air, setting his nerves on edge.Then his eyes caught on a figure across the street. Matthew.Masahiro’s stomach churned. Matthew strolled casually, hands in his pockets, utterly unaware of the danger.Pulling out his phone, Masahiro dialed Matthew’s number. Once. Twice. No answer. The bastard wasn’t picking up.“Come on, Smith,” Masahiro growled under his breath, dialing again.The car’s headlights flicked on. The low growl of the engine grew louder as the vehicle inched forward, angling toward the crosswalk.Masahiro shot to his feet, abandoning his coffee. “Matthew!” he shouted, sprinting out of the café. His voice barely carried over the traf
Masahiro’s pacing had worn an invisible path into the living room floor. The clock ticked too loudly, and the silence between him and Matthew grew heavier with each minute."Any harder and you’ll stomp right through," Matthew said, lounging on the couch. His tone was playful, but his eyes followed Masahiro’s movements with interest.Masahiro ignored him. The doorbell rang, and he practically sprinted to answer it. He pulled the door open to reveal Yumi, standing there with a bag slung over her shoulder and an expression caught somewhere between worry and confusion."Masahiro," she greeted, stepping inside. Her gaze landed briefly on Matthew, who gave her a lazy wave from the couch."What’s going on?" she asked, shifting her attention back to Masahiro. "You sounded urgent on the phone.""Just check on him," Masahiro said briskly, gesturing toward Matthew."Check for what, exactly?" Yumi frowned, approaching
Masahiro sat stiffly in the hospital waiting room, his eyes flicking occasionally toward Matthew, who was lounging casually in the chair beside him. The faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional cough or shuffle of paper from the front desk."Why do you look so serious?" Matthew asked, his voice cutting through the silence, a teasing smile on his lips.Masahiro shot him a sidelong glance. "Because I’m getting this damn cast off. Finally."Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You're sure you don’t want to keep it for a little longer? You know, for the sympathy points.""I don’t need sympathy," Masahiro grunted, his expression tightening. "I just need this to be over with."A nurse called Masahiro's name, and the two stood up in unison. Matthew slung a lazy arm around Masahiro's shoulders as they followed the nurse down the corridor. Masahiro tried to ignore the smirk on Matthew's face as he walked, but the fami
"Well, well, well, look who's back on his feet," Lewis said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe. "Thought you were six feet under, Payne."Masahiro’s expression didn’t shift, his cold, stoic demeanor as unbothered as ever. "Not today, Lewis," he replied flatly, his voice steady. "We’ve come to talk to Jones about something that happened yesterday."Lewis raised an eyebrow, glancing between Masahiro and Matthew, who gave him a smile in return. "Oh? Is this about Rocco’s death?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.Masahiro shook his head. "No. Matthew's the next target."Lewis’s face dropped. "What do you mean?"Matthew sighed, the playful gleam in his blue eyes fading as he shifted his stance. "When I got back from here yesterday, I almost had a car accident."Masahiro’s voice was matter-of-fact, cutting through the tension. "Wasn't an accident. The mafia’s trying to kill him."Matthew shot him a pointed look, but the se
Masahiro pushed open the heavy door of the surveillance control room, its creaking hinges echoing in the sterile, fluorescent-lit space. The walls were lined with monitors, each screen flickering to life with the cold glow of different camera feeds scattered throughout the precinct. The air was thick with tension, underscored by the low hum of machinery.“Sorry, I’m a little bit late,” Masahiro said, his voice steady, even as his heart raced with the gravity of the case they were tackling.Inside, he found Lewis hunched over a screen, scrutinizing hours of footage. A technician sat beside him, fingers deftly gliding over buttons, bringing different angles of Rocco’s cell into focus.“It’s okay,” Lewis replied, not bothering to look up, his eyes fixated on a grainy image.The rivalry still simmered between them, but necessity dictated their cooperation. They knew the stakes were high, and bickering would yield nothing.“So… did we get something?” Ma
Masahiro stepped out of the police station, his mind racing with the implications of what he had just learned. Nicholas Murray was the first person he needed to see… an assistant in the kitchen on the night of Rocco’s murder. He had to get answers, even if it meant confronting the weight of suspicions looming over everyone involved in the case.The drive to Nicholas's home was quick, but the tension in the air was notable. Every turn seemed to hide an unseen threat, a feeling that only intensified as Masahiro parked outside Nicholas’s modest house. He took a deep breath, needing a moment of clarity before moving forward.He knocked firmly on the door, and the silence that followed seemed to stretch on. Moments later, the door opened, and Nicholas stood in the doorway, his brow furrowing in confusion as he looked up at the visitor.
Masahiro opened the door to his apartment, exhaustion settling into his bones. The night had been a blur of interviews, dead ends, and mounting frustration. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and found Matthew sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV. The low hum of the television filled the room, but it was clear Matthew wasn’t paying much attention to it."You’re still awake?" Masahiro asked, his voice rough from the long day.Matthew glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. "You look like shit. What’s wrong now?"Masahiro let out a sharp breath, his shoulders sagging as he tossed his jacket onto the chair. "We’re not any closer to solving Rocco’s death. We’ve got a bigger mess now."Matthew turned down the volume of the TV, his gaze sharpening with interest. "What happened?"Masahiro ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly as he talked. "Someone infiltrated the police station. Used Charles&
Masahiro stepped out of the steamy bathroom, his body glistening with moisture, the scent of lavender and mint lingering on his skin. He had just finished a relaxing bath, his mind at ease as he padded across the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. His toned, muscular physique was on full display, the pale skin of his chest and arms contrasting with the dark fabric of the towel. As he reached the other side of the room, he noticed Matthew laying on the bed, his attention fixed on his phone.Matthew looked up from his screen, his eyes at the sight of Masahiro. He couldn't help but admire his physique, the way his broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist. Masahiro's hair, still damp from the bath, fell in messy strands around his face, giving him a wild, untamed look. Matthew casually averted his gaze.Masahiro tossed the towel onto a nearby chair an
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
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
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
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
As 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
"Where's the toilet?" Arthur asked, glancing around.Juliette wiped her hands on a dish towel and pointed down the hall. "This way.""Fine, I'll be right back," Arthur said, heading in the direction she indicated.As the sound of his footsteps faded, Juliette leaned against the counter, lost in thought. The pieces had clicked together too well—too fast. Arthur’s story, the black rose tattoo, the way Cassidy had subtly dodged the topic during lunch. It all pointed to one thing.Then, as if drawn by her thoughts, Cassidy entered the kitchen. He went straight to the counter, filled a glass with water, and took a long sip. But he could feel her eyes on him.Lowering the glass, he met her gaze. "What?"Juliette pushed off the counter and silently walked to the door, closing it behind her. When she turned back, her expression was sharp. "What are you hiding?"Cassidy raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "What are you talking a
The meal had ended, the table filled with empty plates and half-finished glasses of water. Juliette, always the first to move, stood up and began gathering the dishes.Arthur, wanting to be polite, quickly got up as well. “Let me help,” he said, picking up a plate and following her to the kitchen.They worked together in quiet efficiency, stacking the plates near the sink and wiping down the table. When they finished, Juliette turned toward Cassidy, tilting her head playfully.“Bro, can you come and wash the dishes with me?”Cassidy smiled, about to step forward, when a thought made him pause. His hand instinctively hovered over his wrist—the rose tattoo. The makeup concealing it was waterproof, but he’d been wearing it for hours. Too much water, too much rubbing, and it could start to fade. He couldn’t risk it.Instead, he glanced at Arthur and smirked. “I think it’s better if Arthur helps you&
Then, after crossing the living room, Cassidy and Arthur was on their way to the dining room, where Arthur immediately noticed the table set for five. His gaze flickered to the extra place setting, and he recalled Cassidy mentioning his sister, Juliette.Lorraine smiled warmly and gestured toward a chair. "Have a seat, Arthur."Arthur pulled out the chair and sat, and Cassidy took the seat beside him."Jules!" Lorraine called toward the stairs."Coming," a voice responded from above.Robert settled into his chair with a knowing look. "It’s not every day our son brings someone home."Cassidy smirked, but before he could respond, Lorraine placed a few bowls of food on the table. "So," she asked, glancing at Arthur, "where did you two meet?"Cassidy, without hesitation, answered, "In a café.""Oh?" Lorraine’s brows lifted slightly.Arthur barely held back a smirk, stealing a glance at Cassidy, who was busy pouring himself a
The drive to Cassidy's family home was wrapped in an awkward silence, though the tension wasn’t all from the drive. Arthur, eyes focused on his phone, scrolled through messages and notifications, the weight of Cassidy's presence beside him feeling different now. Cassidy, on the other hand, was barely aware of the road. His mind was occupied with a hundred dark thoughts, each one tightening the knot in his stomach.“So,” Arthur’s voice broke through Cassidy’s thoughts, light and boyish. “I’m really excited to meet your parents.”Cassidy forced a smile, though it was tight, like the edges of his mask were fraying. “Yeah, they’re… good people.” He said it flatly, not truly feeling it. Good people? His mind mocked the words. They didn’t know the man who’d made their son, their precious Cassidy, a dangerous, manipulative monster. They didn’t know about the weight of the secrets he car