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Chapter 25
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2024-12-08 10:30:23The car rumbled along the deserted road, heavy hum of the engine filling the silence. The driver, an older officer with gray hair and a calm demeanor, kept his focus on the road ahead. Masahiro sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, eyes scanning the dark horizon with quiet intensity.
Ms. Hawthorne sat in the back, her laptop balanced on her knees, scrolling through notes on Ridley's file, while Matthew sat beside her, fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket. The silence between them was thick, with the only breaks the occasional tapping of Ms. Hawthorne's keys and the soft hiss of tires against asphalt.
"How much longer?" Matthew finally asked, his voice strained.
"Not far now," replied the driver, his tone professional, yet indifferent.
Masahiro glanced back over his shoulder. "You okay back there?"
Matthew gave a wry smile, but his eyes betrayed how nervous he was. "Define 'okay.'"
Ms. Hawthorne lifted her gaze from her opened laptop, he
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The police briefing room was dimly lit, thick with tension as Masahiro, Matthew, Ms. Hawthorne, Evelyn Carter-head of Human Trafficking Unit, and officer Reed, all sat around a big table. Laid in the middle was the picture of Ridley's back. Under the fluorescent lights, the tattoo shone-an inked jumble of lines, symbols, and jagged shapes that seemed impossible to decipher.Masahiro leaned forward, his finger tracing the contours of the image. "We have to figure this out; if Ridley's back is a message, it's the key to finding the Spiced Cherry or the people behind it.”Evelyn peered closely at the photograph; her brows furrowed in concentration. "Would this really lead us to the Spiced Cherry? This doesn't even look like a map," she questioned, doubt beginning to seep into her tone.Ms. Hawthorne, arms crossed, leaned closer. "Boss, I think you might be right. It's too messy. Why would his friend etch something so crucial on his back? It doesn't make sense.”Matthew had been leaning si
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Ethan knocked lightly before entering Masahiro's office, a stack of printed documents in his hands. A serious expression clouded his face, with a flicker of excitement in his eyes."Got something for you, Payne," he said, taking a seat as he set the papers down on the desk. "The dark web's abuzz about something they're calling the 'Full Moon Parties'."Masahiro leaned forward, intrigued. "Guess that's the thing we are looking for. What's the deal?”Ethan rummaged through the papers, pulling out a detailed description. "It's an invitation-only event. They are selling it as a night of 'unforgettable encounters and unrestrained pleasures under the full moon's glow.'""What kind of activities are we talking about?"“Each full moon has a different theme… masquerades, provocative gatherings, even mentions of dark rituals," Ethan said, furrowing his brow. "It's deliberately vague, which makes it even more sinister. They're drawing peopl
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Days laterMasahiro was lounging at home, flipping through a book, when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen-it was Ethan. With a sigh, he answered."Hey, what's up?" Masahiro tried to sound relaxed."Payne, I need you at the station. It's about the dark web profile for the Spiced Cherry."Masahiro's curiosity piqued. "What's going on?”"I need you to bring Matthew. I can't go into all the details by phone, it’s for the couple's profile we got some questions that need to be answered."Masahiro frowned. "It's my day off, Ethan.""I know… and hey… don’t forget you are the one who asked for this.""Fine. I'll get Matthew."He hung up and headed into the living room, where he found Matthew sprawled across the couch, flipping on his phone. "Get up," Masahiro said, sharper than he had meant to.Matthew looked up, startled. "What's the hurry?""We have t
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Ethan sat in his office, the soft hum of the computer filling the otherwise quiet space. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but the data on the screen didn't seem to hold his attention. The phone against his ear, however, had his full focus."So, what's the deal?" Ethan asked, his voice casual but laced with a hint of concern as he leaned back in his chair.Noah's voice came through the speaker with its usual easy-going tone. "I'm just saying, uncle Nick's been asking about you. He misses us, man. Been a while since you've come around. You don't think he's getting a little… lonely?”Ethan shifted in his chair, looking over at the dark web program open on the second computer, the faint glow reflecting off his face. "I know, I know," he said, rubbing a hand across his face. "It's just been hectic, you know? The case has been dragging me in deeper than I thought.”Noah chuckled quietly. "Yeah, yeah, I get it; you're always busy. But un
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Masahiro was sitting at the table in the kitchen, casually eating his lunch. The quiet room caught soft clinking sounds that the chopsticks made upon being tapped against the bowl. Besides him lay a bowl full of steaming hot miso soup, and in front was a plate of neat and thin noodles filled tenderly with slight spicy pork. He sipped his soup slowly, feeling the warmth spread through him, one of those few moments of peace before the storm that was his life.Matthew, on the other hand, stood by the counter, leaning lazily against the edge with one hand wrapped around a cup of coffee. His other hand absently stroked the fur of Clyde wheo was perched on the counter, lazily eyeing Masahiro as he ate. The cat's purring was the only other sound, a soothing background to the otherwise tense silence that seemed to hang between the two men.Masahiro chewed a mouthful of noodles, his mind wandering, until the shrill buzz of his phone yanked him from those thoughts. He wiped his mouth with a napk
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The masked man leaned back in his chair, his gloved fingers steepling as he spoke. “So, gentlemen, are you going to demonstrate or not?”Masahiro's instinct was to retreat, but Matthew, ever the one to take the reins in situations like this, smiled warmly, leaning slightly toward the camera. "Look," he said, feigning nonchalance. “My boyfriend here isn’t even hard, and we ain’t too interested in exhibitionism…”The masked man tilted his head, almost playfully. "If you can't do this in front of me, how do you expect to handle what happens at the Full Moon Party? Do you understand the kind of scrutiny you’ll be under? This is child’s play compared to what’s coming.”Matthew leaned back, his demeanor shifting ever so slightly. He turned to Masahiro, his voice dropping into a softer, almost intimate tone. “Honey… are there any condoms left?”Masahiro shot him a sharp look, his eyebrow arching in confusion. He opened his mouth to protest, but the faint glimmer in Matthew’s blue eyes stoppe
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Masahiro stood near the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes fastened to a certain place opposite the room. Matthew sat at the table, sprawled, one leg jittery with restless energy, glancing at the clock every few seconds.It had been over a month since they'd plunged into the dark web, constructing aliases and worming their way into the Spiced Cherry's hidden network. The mission was supposed to be cut-and-dried: gather intel and dismantle the operation. Instead, Masahiro felt like he was drowning.He glanced at Matthew… too relaxed. That night kept replaying in Masahiro's head, unbidden and unwanted. The act itself had been mechanical, yet it left a film of disgust Masahiro couldn't scrub away no matter how many times he tried.“Alright, everyone,” Ethan’s voice broke through the heavy silence. He stood at the head of the table, radiating the kind of excitement Masahiro couldn’t bring himself to share. “I’ve got news. We’ve secured access to the Spiced Cherry’s fu
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The world went dark as Masahiro and Matthew slipped their blindfolds on, the cool fabric pressing against their skin, cutting them off from the outside world. The low hum of an engine filled the silence as masked men in black suits led them into separate cars. The heavy thrum of the vehicles’ engines was a dull reminder of their impending destination, and the unease settled in their stomachs, both of them instinctively aware that they were stepping into a world beyond their control.The drive felt like an eternity, the endless twists and turns heightening the tension. Masahiro’s mind raced through every possibility. What awaited them? Were they walking into a trap, or was this merely part of the game they were forced to play? Adrenaline pumped through his veins, the knot in his stomach only growing tighter.Finally, the cars came to a stop. The low growl of the engines silenced, and they were instructed to step out. Masahiro could feel his pulse pounding in his ears as he was guided t
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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
