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Chapter 322
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2025-06-05 11:30:49The first thing he registered was the noise.
A scrape.Not loud.Not violent.Just… wrong.Cassidy blinked awake, breath shallow in the cold cell. For a second, he wasn’t sure what time it was. The lights were off, save for the weak glow from the corridor. No voices. No keys. No footsteps.But the sound was there again.Scrape. Drag. Stop.He sat up slowly, blanket falling to his waist. Every instinct in his body—that honed, feral, capo-born sense—told him: don’t move too fast.Another scrape.Closer.He swung his legs off the bed. Didn’t stand. Just waited.Silence.Then—thump.Something hit the bars.Cassidy froze.He stood now. Quietly. Stepped forward barefoot, one step, then two, toward the door. The cell slit window let him see maybe a foot outside. No angles. No warning.Then the smell hit.Not blood. Not right away.Just the metallic shadow of it. Lingering.He stepped closer.And then—there
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Gold & Sand Chapter 334
Cassidy didn’t look up. He sat cross-legged in the center of his solitary cell, palms on his knees, eyes closed like he was meditating—or bored.The lock buzzed. The door opened.Polished boots stepped in—definitely not prison-issue.The visitor was a woman in a slate-gray suit. Professional. Sharp-eyed. Clipboard in hand, expression set to neutral.Cassidy didn’t react.Behind her, someone else stood at the threshold.Michaelis.Red hair. Blue eyes. A mouth too soft for a man who ran this place. Braces caught the light when he moved, but there was nothing juvenile about his posture—shoulders squared, arms folded, eyes locked straight ahead.Cassidy opened his eyes.The silence charged itself.So that’s what you look like up close, he thought.The suit woman spoke. “Detainee Hills,” she began, tone flat. “I’m here on court authority to assess your current housing and psychological condition. This visit is being recorded. Do you consent to
Gold & Sand Chapter 333
The blinds were drawn. The air was thick. The only light came from the desk lamp—low and amber, casting long shadows.Michaelis was spread across the office couch, shirt open, skin flushed, breath ragged.Silas didn’t stop moving.Didn’t slow.Didn’t soften.His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, collar undone, voice a low rasp against Michaelis’s ear.“You take it like this every time,” he muttered. “You cry like you hate it—then beg like you were made for it.”Michaelis choked on a moan.“Ah—”Silas grinned against his shoulder. “That’s it. Say it again.”The couch creaked beneath them, steady and rhythmic.Michaelis gripped the cushion—“Ah—hhnn—!”“Louder.”“Ah—Silas—”Silas chuckled, low and sharp.“Now you remember my name.”The slap of impact.The scrape of breath.Michaelis’s voice, shredded at the edges—“Nh—ngh—ahh—please—”“You sound better when you’re desperate,” Silas said, almost tender
Gold & Sand Chapter 332
Matthew pushed the office door open with his back, balancing two takeaway cups in one hand like a seasoned barista. He crossed the room with easy swagger, sunglasses pushed into his curls. Arthur glanced up from his screen as Matthew passed.“No coffee for your favorite junior?” he asked with a hopeful grin.Matthew didn’t stop walking. “I don’t deliver unless you pin me to walls and moan my name in three syllables.”Arthur blinked. “What?”Matthew waved the spare cup over his shoulder. “Exactly.”The phone buzzed in his back pocket.Unknown number.Not really.He knew that number like a bad tattoo.Matthew clicked to answer, already walking toward the far side of the office. “Castro.”The line crackled. The voice came through thick and low. “You got balls calling me for that name.”Matthew didn’t slow. “You dig on Silas Renn or not?”Castro exhaled smoke through the line. “Took a look. Not a clean file. Got favors stitched throug
Gold & Sand Chapter 331
Clark moved through the courthouse like a force of nature dressed in wool and restraint.His heels struck tile. His coat trailed behind him, catching wind from every swing of a door. He didn’t stop for greetings. Didn’t slow for the nervous junior solicitors shuffling papers by the elevators. His briefcase was gripped like a weapon—because today, it was.He reached the clerk’s window outside Judge Rensley’s chambers and rapped twice, sharp and clean.The woman behind the glass looked up. She was maybe in her forties, with tortoiseshell glasses and a lanyard full of pens. Professional. Efficient.Clark slipped the folder through the slot. “Petition for conditional extraction. Marked for priority review.”She took it automatically, flipping it open as her screen lit. “Case number?”“Cassidy Hills. Detainee under Institutional Isolation Protocol.” Clark’s voice was calm, clipped. “Filed under grounds of unlawful obstruction of counsel, denial of medical rights, and potential harm to the
Gold & Sand Chapter 330
The office was unusually quiet. Three desks. Three men. Three very different postures of focus. Matthew sat sideways in his chair, legs stretched out, boot tapping a slow rhythm beneath the desk. His monitor blinked with half-written notes, a document - Personnel Pull open but ignored. He twirled a pen between his fingers like it owed him answers. Arthur hunched over a thick file, brow furrowed. He wore his concentration like a too-big coat—sincere, but clumsy. Every few seconds, he clicked the pen against his clipboard. Nervous energy in slacks and a tucked-in shirt. And Masahiro? Masahiro sat like a man whose spine was wired to national security—straight, composed, every pen aligned, every folder precisely placed. His screen displayed three reports and a checklist. He had already completed two. The door clicked open. His secretary stepped in with a polite knock, then stood aside to let someone else enter behind
Gold & Sand Chapter 329
The pan hissed as Matthew flipped something oily and garlicky with the flick of a wrist. One foot tapped impatiently on the tile. His phone sat on the counter, speaker on, screen smudged.“Silas Renn,” Matthew repeated, louder this time. “R-E-N-N. Works prison-side. Same place Hills is rotting.”A pause crackled from the other end.Castro’s voice came low, deep, and accented like a man who smoked while stabbing.“Sound like law. You want me to dig inside the system, or outside?”“Whichever one gets me answers, sweetheart,” Matthew said, snorting. “I don’t care if he’s screwing the guards or bribing the dead. I want to know who’s pulling his strings.”“You got enemies with badges now?”“Don’t I always?”Castro exhaled—something between a laugh and a threat. “You ain’t subtle, Mateo. This ain’t a small favor.”Matthew tasted the sauce, made a face. “Did I say small? I said urgent. You get me a profile—background, financials, connections—I’ll owe you
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