Semua Bab Gold & Sand: Bab 231 - Bab 237

Clark didn’t say a word when they stepped into the hotel room.Bag hit the floor with a heavy thud. He moved straight to the minibar like he had one purpose: drown something before it spoke.Adam closed the door behind them with his boot, leaned against it, arms crossed.“Look at you,” Adam muttered. “Straight to the bottle like it’s fuckin’ therapy.”Clark ignored him. Yanked open the minibar, pulled out a half-decent bottle of Glenfiddich, and poured it like his hands weren’t already shaking.Adam pushed off the door, slow. “No ‘thanks for gettin’ me outta that rat trap’? Not even a ‘hey, nice save, criminal scum’?”Clark took a sip, didn’t flinch at the burn. “If I wanted mouth, I’d have stayed in the blackout.”Adam snorted, tossing his jacket over the couch. “You were in the blackout. Power dead. Brain fried. Pride? Fucked.”Clark glanced over the rim of his glass. “You enjoying this?”Adam dropped

The courtroom resumed with the same weight it had carried before the recess—but now the air felt thicker. Tighter. Every word from the judge landed heavier than before.“All rise,” the bailiff intoned.Clark didn’t bother looking at the prosecutor. He didn’t need to.He had work to do.Witness One: ArthurArthur sat rigid in the stand, hands folded tightly iin his lap. He wore a pale blue shirt that made him look even younger than usual, and his eyes kept flicking toward Cassidy—never quite meeting his gaze.Clark approached slowly, with no notes in hand. He didn’t need them.“State your name for the record.”“Arthur Cooper.”“Arthur, can you tell the court how you came to know the defendant?”Arthur hesitated. “He… he saved me.”Soft murmurs rippled through the gallery.Clark’s tone didn’t change. “Saved you from what?”“I was taken,” Arthur said, voice cracking only once. “Held in a warehouse with other victims. I don’t know how long. We were moved often. Kept in darkness.”“Did Ca

Smoke still clung to Clark’s jacket like a ghost he couldn’t shake. He’d barely had time to process the ambush—just flashes of gunfire, Adam shoving him down, the brutal jolt of the car door slamming shut. Now they were speeding down a back road, the city lights thinning behind them.Clark stared out the window, heart still jackhammering under his ribs. Asphalt blurred under the tires. The direction felt wrong.“This isn’t the hotel district,” he said, adjusting his glasses with clipped precision. “Where are we going?”Adam didn’t look at him. His grip on the wheel was tight, jaw clenched. “My place.”Clark blinked. “Your what?”“My place,” Adam repeated. “We’re layin’ low.”Clark snapped his head toward him. “Since when is your house suddenly the panic room? Take me to a hotel.”Adam exhaled, sharp and irritated. “A hotel ain’t safe.”“And your place is?”“Yeah.”Clark scoffed. “That a joke? What’s next, you gonna tuck me in with a loaded Glo