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Chapter 66
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2024-12-28 12:00:02Masahiro’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
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Gold & Sand Chapter 67
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
Last Updated : 2024-12-28Gold & Sand Chapter 68
"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
Last Updated : 2024-12-29Gold & Sand Chapter 69
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
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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.
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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&
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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
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Masahiro sat at the edge of the cluttered table, staring down at the map that had consumed weeks of his life. Lines, symbols, and marks swirled in front of his eyes like a chaotic mess, leading them to dead ends. Every lead they had chased down in Cleveland led nowhere, or worse, to random locations that had nothing to do with Mr. K."Another waste of time," Masahiro muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair.Lewis, seated next to him, furrowed his brow as he sifted through another set of potential coordinates. “We’re missing something,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Nothing adds up. It’s like the map is purposely designed to mess with us.”Masahiro could sense the weight on Lewis too, but the pressure wasn’t going to get them anywhere. The two had been at this for days, and every route they mapped had collapsed.“Anyway… what if those symbols aren’t random places? What
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The moonlight streamed through the blinds, casting faint patterns across the floor as Masahiro sat on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his hands. The map was burned into his mind, every twisted symbol, every seemingly random line. No matter how many angles he considered, it didn’t add up. How could a public venue, one used by government officials, be connected to Mr. K’s underworld?The bed shifted slightly as Matthew sat down beside him, silent at first. He reached out, placing a hand on Masahiro’s back, a rare gesture of comfort. "Still stuck on that map?"Masahiro sighed, lifting his head. "I just can’t wrap my head around it. It doesn’t make sense. Why would the map lead to a public building? How could someone like Mr. K be tied to something so... visible?"Matthew leaned back, arms crossed as he considered Masahiro’s frustration. His gaze was sharp, filled with that quiet wisdom he’d gained from a lifetime na
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The couch wasn’t new to this.It creaked like it recognized the weight—Clark’s spine pressed to the cushions, Adam’s knee between his legs, files forgotten beneath them like collateral damage.Clark didn’t gasp.He groaned.“Tch—Adam.” Half-warned, half-melted. “I just organized those.”Adam didn’t give a damn.“Then you should’ve organized your schedule better, counselor.”He said it at Clark’s throat, teeth barely grazing the skin just beneath his jaw. The kind of contact that wasn’t meant to hurt—but to remind.Clark exhaled through his nose. Calm. Infuriating.“You are dangerously obsessed with making me moan over prosecutorial misconduct.”“That’s ‘cause you sound better screamin’ than lecturin’.”Clark chuckled darkly—head thudding back into the cushion. He pushed his glasses up with two fingers, then slid them off entirely and dropped them onto the table.“You’re so fucking predictable.”Adam smirked. “And you’re so fuckin’
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The crowd around the grave began to thin.Some officers lingered. Others drifted toward their cars in small clusters, the quiet murmur of uniforms brushing against one another, badges catching the sun one last time before vanishing into the afternoon.Masahiro and Matthew stepped forward.The woman stood at the edge of the burial, veil now lifted, her eyes rimmed red but dry. She looked like someone who had cried enough before the funeral ever started.Masahiro approached her first.“Mrs. Doyle,” he said gently, dipping his head. “I’m… I’m sorry for your loss.”Her expression didn’t shift much. But her voice was calm. “Thank you.”There was a steadiness in her grief—one born from surviving years beside a man who chased death for a living.Masahiro gave a small nod, then turned toward the young man standing just beside her.Doyle’s son.Closer now, Masahiro could see the resemblance. The jawline. The way his eyes watched everything. Guarded, te
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It had been five days since Allan Doyle’s body was found behind Barrow Lane.Five days since the call. Since the silence that followed it. Since Masahiro had driven into the night with blood in his chest and Matthew’s voice at his back.Now, the sun was too bright for a funeral, but they buried him anyway.The car rolled to a stop at the edge of the cemetery.Beyond the windshield, the canary was crowded—rows of law enforcement officers in black, lined up in silent formation. Uniforms everywhere: pressed blues, starched grays, polished medals that caught the morning light. Detectives in tailored coats stood among beat cops and field agents. The air was stiff with order and unsaid things.Canopies had been set up above the grave site, a futile attempt to shield the mourners from the pale spring sun. The wind tugged at coat hems and tugged hair loose from buns and slicked styles. But no one moved. No one left.Masahiro turned off the engine.They sat for a
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It was midnight.Matthew’s face was buried against Masahiro’s chest, his breath warm and steady, rising and falling like waves breaking against stone. The bedroom was cloaked in dim gold—just the faintest light slipping through the cracked door, catching on the curve of Masahiro’s bare shoulder.Masahiro lay still, one hand in Matthew’s curls, the other resting against his side. He hadn’t slept.Not really.The weight of six weeks hadn’t left his chest since he’d closed his eyes.Then the phone rang.A sharp vibration on the nightstand. No ringtone—Masahiro never let it ring. Just the buzzing thrum of urgency in the dark.He reached without waking Matthew, answering in one fluid motion.“Payne.”The voice on the other end was clipped. Low. Shaken.“Sir… it’s Doyle. Allan Doyle. He’s dead.”Masahiro didn’t breathe.His hand froze mid-motion. The ceiling above him went quiet.The voice continued. “They found his body in the alley behind Barrow Lane. Gunshot. Close range. No witnesses.”
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The car rolled to a stop in front of Arthur’s building. The street was dim, washed in the orange flicker of old lamps. Arthur hesitated for a second before unbuckling. “Thanks for the ride,” he said quietly, eyes a little too wide, hands still trembling from the night. Masahiro nodded once. “Goodnight, Cooper.” Matthew gave him a small wave from the passenger seat. “Text Masa if anything weird happens, yeah?” Arthur nodded and got out, closing the door softly. He walked up to the building, pulled his keys from his pocket, and glanced back just once. They waited. Arthur opened the gate, disappeared inside, and only when the door shut behind him with a faint click, did Masahiro start the engine again. Silence. It stretched for blocks. Then Matthew let out a sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “This whole thing’s a mess.” Masahiro didn’t respond immediately. He kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight. Matthew kept going. “Six people. And somehow we’re all tangled up
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The lock hissed. The panic room door creaked open.What greeted them wasn’t relief. It was aftermath.A wash of chemical air hit first—smoke and industrial sanitizer, sharp and sterile. Lights flickered overhead, the hallway still recovering from whatever scramble had unfolded outside.Armed officers lined the corridor, weapons lowered but eyes tracking every movement. No one moved until Masahiro stepped out first, calm as a blade.Cassidy followed, still cuffed, but upright. Arthur stayed tucked at his side, blinking against the hallway light like he’d forgotten what outside air tasted like.Behind them, Clark adjusted his tie. Adam stepped beside him, hand loose on Clark’s back without thinking. Matthew emerged next, yawning. He still looked smug.At the far end, a prosecutor and a city official waited. Legal cleanup."We’ll need statements," the official said.Masahiro didn’t even pause. "Not now."The man sputtered, but Masahiro was already wa
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The panic room had gone quiet.The gas had settled. The lock was still sealed. But for the first time in an hour, no one was yelling, bleeding, or threatening to kill someone over sarcasm.Clark sat near the far wall, his head resting on Adam’s shoulder, tie loosened, wrist still trembling.Adam didn’t say anything.Just held a water bottle in one hand, and Clark in the other.He glanced down. “Drink.”Clark sighed, voice hoarse. “You’ve said that three times.”Adam pressed the bottle into his hand. “And I’ll say it a fourth.”Clark took it. “You’re very annoying.”Adam’s smirk was faint. “You like annoying.”Clark: “I like expensive wine and emotional distance.”Adam: “And still end up in my bed. Funny how that works.”Across the room, Cassidy had planted himself against the wall, legs stretched out, one arm wrapped around Arthur, who was tucked against his chest. Arthur hadn’t spoken in ten minutes.Cassidy ran a hand through Art
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The courtroom was colder than usual.Not from temperature. From tension.Cassidy sat at the defense table, cuffed but unmoved. Clean suit. Straight spine. His eyes drifted, slow and knowing, over the faces present—not the jury, not the prosecution. The others.Arthur was in the gallery, near the back, shoulders squared but not at ease. He hadn’t looked at Cassidy since entering. But he hadn’t looked away, either.Clark stood at the defense bench, immaculate in gray. Composed. Watching. Reading the room like a surgeon reads skin.Adam leaned against the wall at the rear of the courtroom, arms crossed, one boot tapped into the tile like a metronome of violence barely restrained. He clocked everything. Every whisper. Every eye shift.Matthew sat beside him, chewing gum he wasn't supposed to have, scrolling his phone without looking. But his free hand rested near Adam’s, just enough to ground him.Masahiro sat two rows ahead of Arthur. Silent. Controlled. The
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Arthur returned to the precinct in silence.His boots clicked over tile, shoulders tighter than when he’d left. He hesitated at the office door.Masahiro was stiil inside. Alone. Leaning against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, unreadable.Arthur opened the door anyway.He didn’t speak. Just shut it behind him.Masahiro watched him for a moment.“You left without a word.”“I know.”Masahiro’s tone didn’t rise. “During work hours.”Arthur nodded.Masahiro tilted his head. “Wanna tell me where you went?”Arthur didn’t flinch. “To see Cassidy.”A pause. Not surprise—just confirmation.Masahiro’s voice was calm. “What did you go there to do?”Arthur swallowed once. “I asked him not to retaliate.”Masahiro blinked slowly. “That’s what you think your job is now?”“I asked him to wait,” Arthur said. “To give us a chance to fix this through the system. I told him I’d do everything I could… by the law.”Masahiro looked at him for a long beat. Then pushed off the desk and walked toward the
