All Chapters of Gold & Sand: Chapter 321 - Chapter 330

The door slid open with its usual groan.Cassidy stepped out, jaw clean-shaven, face damp from a brutal splash of cold sink water. He didn’t rush. Never did. His shirt was tucked sharp, collar flattened. Hair combed back with the kind of precision that made other inmates nervous.He moved like a man with a schedule—even when there wasn’t one.Down the corridor, he passed the duty board without looking. Then paused. Just long enough for his eyes to scan the list.No number.No name.No assignment.Cassidy blinked once.Then turned.He didn’t ask.Didn’t correct anyone.Just adjusted his sleeves and walked toward the cafeteria like nothing had been missed at all.The cafeteria line moved like it always did—slow, uninspired, full of half-shaved heads and low-level muttering. Cassidy didn’t complain.He didn’t need to.One glance, one nod, and the server gave him the cleanest tray, the least-wilted eggs. He didn’t smile. Just took

Masahiro unlocked the office door without a word.He stepped in first—crisp suit, black tie, clipboard under one arm. Finance bro chic, down to the gleam of his watch and the neatly pressed sleeves. The air shifted the moment he entered, like everything else in the room deferred to his gravity.Matthew followed with all the oppositional energy of a man allergic to structure. Bomber jacket, faded jeans, dark sunglasses still on despite being indoors. He looked like someone who didn’t need clearance to be dangerous.Arthur was already at the desk, flipping through a digital file. He stood when he saw Masahiro. “Morning, sir—” Then his eyes landed on Matthew. “Uh…”Matthew pulled off his sunglasses and gave Arthur a wide grin. “Hey, Harvard.”Arthur frowned. “What… is he doing here?”Masahiro set the clipboard down on his desk with a soft clack. “He’s officially onboarded. Consultant role, behavioral analysis.” He looked at Matthew. “Take off your jacket. You’re not at home.”Matthew did

The car cut through the city like a blade, windows down, wind biting against the silence. Clark had his phone in one hand, thumb scrolling through the latest batch of legal statutes, prison regulations, and complaint forms. His other hand kept adjusting his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose like the weight of bureaucracy was physically dragging them down.Adam drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hoodie half-zipped, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the road like it owed him something."So," Adam started, voice rough and low. "What you gonna do 'bout that shit?"Clark didn’t glance up. "Clarify what shit you mean. There’s been a buffet of injustice lately."Adam snorted. "Cassidy. Solitary. The dead guy outside his cell ring a bell?"Clark's jaw flexed. He kept scrolling. "I’m confirming his placement first. Legal status, written notice. They’ll stall, say ‘internal investigation,’ maybe ‘temporary.’ Which is code for 'we're bury

It was four in the afternoon when Arthur stepped into the office. The air was stiff with paperwork and cold coffee. Masahiro sat behind his desk, his chair tilted slightly back, reviewing a file with Matthew seated across from him, legs stretched out, one ankle hooked over his knee.Masahiro’s eyes flicked to the door but didn’t linger. "You look awful," he said, voice flat, not even pausing in his reading.Arthur walked further in, expression tense, dark circles bruising his eyes. He stopped at the edge of the desk, just beside Matthew.Masahiro finally set the file down. "What happened now?"Arthur hesitated. His voice cracked slightly as he said, "Cassidy’s in solitary."That got Masahiro’s full attention. He leaned forward. Matthew sat up straighter."What?" Masahiro asked.Arthur stood tense, shoulders stiff beneath his wrinkled shirt. “I went to the prison,” he said, eyes flicking between them. “Tried to see Cassidy. They wouldn’t let me.”Masahiro didn’t blink.“They said he’s

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