Chapter 214 Chapter 0213

Chapter 214 Chapter 0213
The air inside the car was quiet.
Masahiro drove with his usual control, hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road.
Matthew sat in the passenger seat, one hand resting lazily on the window, lost in thought.
Clark and Arthur were in the back.
Arthur sat stiffly, still processing everything that had just happened.
Clark, on the other hand?
Clark felt sick.
The weight of the case—the weight of who Cassidy Hills was, who his enemies were, and what this could mean—
It was too much.
He inhaled deeply, fingers tapping against his knee.
Then, voice quieter than usual—"I should drop the case."
Arthur’s head snapped toward him.
Matthew blinked, then frowned. "Come again?"
Clark exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I’m not just dealing with a criminal here. I’m dealing with a mafia boss with powerful enemies. People who would rather see him dead than behind bars. And I—"
He clenched his jaw.
"I am not looking to get murdered."
Silence.
Arthur looked almost... sad.
Like the thought of Clark walking away from this felt wrong.
Masahiro, however, said nothing. Just kept driving.
Matthew?
Matthew sighed deeply, rubbing a hand down his face.
"Shit, Clark."
Clark scoffed, shaking his head. "What? You think I should just accept the possibility that I’ll get a bullet in my head before trial?"
Matthew looked at him. Really looked at him.
Then, quietly—"I think you’d regret walking away."
Clark stilled.
Matthew continued. "You’re scared. Fine. Be scared. But if you walk away from this, you’ll feel like a fucking coward for the rest of your life."
Clark hated that he was right.
Arthur swallowed, then spoke softly. "Then what do we do?"
Matthew rolled his neck, cracking it slightly, before exhaling through his nose.
Then—
"I know someone who owes me."
Clark frowned. "What does that mean?"
Matthew turned to him, smirking slightly. "It means you’re getting a bodyguard, Moneybags."
Clark blinked. "I... What?"
Masahiro finally spoke, voice calm. "It’s not a bad idea."
Clark opened his mouth. Closed it.
Then, slowly, like the weight of everything was finally settling in—"If I get protection, I’ll take the case. But I want the best."

Matthew grinned. "Oh, don’t worry. I know exactly who to call."
Clark exhaled, leaning back against the seat, staring at the ceiling.
What the hell had he just signed up for?
The car ride continued in silence, the weight of the conversation settling over them like a thick fog. The city lights flickered past the windows, stretching and distorting in the quiet of the late night.
Arthur shifted in his seat, his mind miles away, still caught in the whirlwind of everything that had happened. Cassidy. The case. The lines that kept blurring between right and wrong.
Clark, beside him, had gone unusually quiet, but his fingers were tapping a restless beat against his knee—his only tell that he was overthinking everything.
Matthew, on the other hand, looked way too pleased with himself.
Masahiro just drove, steady and unbothered, guiding them through the near-empty streets like he already knew exactly where the night would end.
The car slowed to a stop in front of Arthur’s apartment building.
Arthur hesitated, fingers tightening around the seatbelt before finally unbuckling.
Masahiro glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Get some rest.”
Arthur exhaled softly, nodding as he reached for the door handle. “Yes, sir.”
Matthew smirked. “Try not to stay up all night overthinking.”
Arthur shot him a dry look before stepping out. The cold air hit him immediately, but it did nothing to clear the mess in his head. As he shut the door, he lingered for a second—then turned, watching the car pull away before finally heading inside.
He didn’t look back.
Inside the car, silence settled. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the distant murmur of the city beyond the windshield.
Masahiro didn’t say anything.
Matthew didn’t either—for once.
Clark, however, shifted in the backseat, exhaling sharply before running a hand through his hair. His knee bounced slightly, a nervous habit that neither of the other two called out.
Masahiro changed lanes with practiced ease, eyes still fixed on the road.
Matthew finally broke the quiet, glancing at Clark through the mirror. “You look like you’re gonna be sick.”
Clark scoffed but didn’t deny it.
The drive to Clark’s place was quiet.
Clark stared out the window, thoughts swirling. His fingers tapped against his knee in a restless rhythm.
Masahiro parked smoothly in front of Clark’s apartment building.
Clark exhaled and reached for the door. “I hope you guys don’t forget the guy,” he muttered, stepping out. “Tomorrow, I want to start with Cassidy’s case, so it would be better if I had this bodyguard.”
Matthew stretched lazily. “Don’t worry, I’m calling him as soon as we get home.”
Clark barely heard the reassurance—he was too caught on something else.
\`We get home. ´
His brows furrowed slightly.
Clark turned back to glance at them—Masahiro calm as ever, Matthew looking relaxed, a little too casual.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
This guy and Masahiro…?
Masahiro, unbothered, simply said, “See you tomorrow.”
Clark nodded slowly. “Yeah… tomorrow.”
He shut the door and watched as they drove off.
Then, standing in front of his building, Clark pinched the bridge of his nose.
\`What the hell was Matthew to Masahiro? ´
Inside the car, the atmosphere shifted.
Masahiro drove, controlled as always. Matthew let out a long sigh, rubbing his face.
“Well,” Matthew started, “this is a mess.”
Masahiro hummed. “It was always going to be.”
Matthew glanced at him. “You really think Cassidy’s got a chance?”
Masahiro’s fingers flexed on the wheel. “Depends on the lawyer. And the bodyguard.”
Matthew smirked. “Oh, Clark’s going to love this.”
Masahiro gave him a look. “Clark hates everything.”
Matthew chuckled. “Fair point.” He exhaled, rolling his neck. “Cassidy’s a problem, but his enemies? Bigger problem.”
Masahiro nodded. “Someone’s going to make a move before trial. You know that.”
Matthew ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Which is why Clark needs MacDougall.”
Masahiro didn’t respond right away. The name hung between them.
Then—
“You sure he’ll take it?”
Matthew grinned. “Oh, he’s gonna take it.”
Masahiro gave him a sidelong glance. “You sound too confident.”
“And I do.”
After half an hour, they got home.
The moment the door shut, Matthew threw himself onto the couch, groaning dramatically as he stretched out. “Long-ass day,” he muttered, already pulling out his phone.
Masahiro hummed in agreement, but instead of heading to the bedroom, he followed, standing over Matthew for a moment before smoothly lowering himself onto him.
Matthew didn’t react at first, still scrolling, his focus shifting as he pulled up a contact he hadn’t reached out to in a long time.
Adam MacDougall.
The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered. “Yo.”
Matthew smirked. “Damn, MacDougall, you pick up quick. Thought you’d be too busy breaking kneecaps.”
There was a pause. Then—
“...Matty?”
Matthew’s smirk faltered for a second. “Yeah.”
A heavier silence followed. Then—
“The fuck? Last time I heard, you were locked up.”
Matthew chuckled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah, well. I got out.”
Adam exhaled sharply. “No shit. Thought you was dead or buried somewhere.”
“Nah. Not yet.”
Adam let out a low whistle. “Man, what the fuck you want?”
Matthew grinned at the old attitude. “Got a job for you.”
Another pause, followed by a low hum of interest. “That so?”
“Yeah. Need you to head to a location for a contract. Private security gig. High-end client.”
Adam scoffed. “Ain’t in the business of babysittin’ rich assholes.”
“This one’s different.” Matthew’s grin widened, shifting slightly as Masahiro settled more comfortably against him. “Besides, you owe me.”
A deep exhale from the other end. “Fuck, you always pullin’ that shit.”
“Damn right.”
A low chuckle. “Aight. Where at?”
Matthew opened his mouth, then paused when Masahiro pressed a lingering kiss against his jaw. He sighed, covering the phone’s speaker. “Masahiro, what’s Clark’s address?”
Masahiro barely lifted his head, lips still ghosting over Matthew’s skin. “Why?”
Matthew huffed. “Because I’m sending someone over there.”
Masahiro tilted his head, trailing kisses along Matthew’s neck, voice warm and amused. “You’re working while I’m trying to be affectionate. Rude.”
Matthew groaned, pushing at his face. “Can you just—” He sighed. “Clark’s address, Masahiro.”
Masahiro finally mumbled it against his skin, still refusing to stop his lazy assault of warmth. “1500 Fifth Avenue, Upper East Side.”
Matthew relayed the address, his tone shifting, slipping into something more familiar. “Aight, homie, that’s the spot. Pull up there, talk business, sign the deal. You handle ya own rates.”
Silence. Then—
“The fuck did you just say?”
Matthew blinked. “What?”
“You talkin’ all street now? Since when the fuck you sound like me?”
Masahiro lifted his head slightly, his expression way too entertained. “Yeah, since when the fuck do you sound like that?”
Matthew shot him a glare. “Shut up.”
Adam snorted. “Man, you been out the game too long. Whatever. I’ll head there tonight.”
“Bet. I’ll let him know.”
Adam hung up first, and Matthew sighed, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. He barely had time to relax before Masahiro leaned in close, lips brushing over his ear.
“Yo, homie, pull up there, talk business,” he mimicked, smirking. “That was hot. Say more.”
Matthew groaned, shoving at him. “I hate you.”
Masahiro only chuckled, warm and satisfied, as he pressed another kiss to Matthew’s jaw. “Love you too.”