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Liam's Pov
[Back Home]
The door clicked shut behind me as I tossed the keys onto the counter. The apartment smelled of something warm and comforting—garlic, herbs, and roasted vegetables.
"Perfect timing," Emma's voice called from the kitchen. She emerged wearing an apron, her hair tied up loosely, carrying two plates. "I thought we'd have dinner together. First day as a prosecutor deserves something good."
I gave her a small smile and disappeared into the shower before joining her at the table. She'd set everything out—grilled chicken with seasoned potatoes and salad.
"Looks amazing," I said, taking a seat.
"You mean smells amazing," she corrected playfully, sliding into her chair. "So… how was day one?"
I picked up my fork, deliberately keeping my tone light. "Surprisingly good. They gave me full freedom on how to work, my own office, and even a secretary. Honestly, better than I expected."
[Technically true] Eve's voice murmured in my head, dripping with sarcasm. [Just leave out the part where Cameron practically threw you into a shark tank and walked away with a smirk.]
I ignored her, cutting into the chicken. "The case I got is… interesting. Challenging, sure, but exactly the kind of test I wanted. Good way to make a name for myself."
Emma narrowed her eyes slightly, studying me as if weighing whether to press. She didn't. Instead, she leaned back, sipping water. "So, office, secretary, and a big case right out of the gate. Sounds like they believe in you."
[Or they're setting you up to fail] Eve muttered.
I smiled at Emma, choosing optimism. "Exactly. It feels like they trust me with responsibility. That's all I can ask for."
Emma still watched me, silent for a few seconds, then finally gave a faint nod. "That's… good. I'm glad."
[She doesn't buy it] Eve whispered. She knows you're skipping details.
I shut down the commentary and switched topics, keeping things light. "How about you? How was your day?"
Emma brightened, clearly relieved at the shift. "Busy. Documents signed and the game sale has gone through, but at least I don't have to cook for my colleagues." She gestured to the food with a smile.
We ate, drifting into small talk—about the neighbor's new dog, the café Emma had discovered near her office, and my bike's refusal to stop squeaking on sharp turns.
[A thrilling domestic life] Eve deadpanned. [From office duels to squeaky wheels. Truly legendary.]
I kept a straight face, letting the commentary roll past me, until the plates were cleared and Emma rose to put the dishes in the dish washer.
"I'll be out late tonight," I said casually, leaning back in my chair.
She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows lifting. "Work?"
"Something like that," I replied.
Emma didn't push, just gave me that same thoughtful look she'd had earlier. "…Alright. Don't overdo it."
I gave her a nod.
Eve said quietly. [You can't keep her in the dark forever.]
I didn't answer.
The digital clock on my nightstand blinked 11:02 when I finally swung open my bedroom door.
I'd dressed down for the night, but not without purpose—black leather jacket zipped halfway up, a plain dark gray tee beneath it, regular black jeans, and worn boots that hardly made a sound against the floor.
The living room lights were dim, a soft warm glow coming from the desk lamp in the corner.
Emma was there, curled casually on the couch with her laptop balanced on her knees. She wasn't in her workwear anymore.
Instead, she wore white shorts and a light blue t-shirt, her hair tied high in a ponytail. Somehow, that effortless look gave her a quiet, casual kind of beauty—the kind that didn't need dressing up.
She hadn't noticed me yet, earbuds in as her fingers tapped away on the keyboard. From the angle, I could see her working on some kind of coding, but she looked comfortable, almost at home in the space. I paused for a second, watching her in silence.
Leaning down, I tugged one of her earbuds free. She didn't startle—not really. Just a small blink, like being pulled from a trance.
"Not sleepy?" I asked.
Her eyes flicked up at me, a little sharp from focus. "Had some work to finish." She stretched her neck slightly, but kept the laptop open.
I nodded, slipping the earbud back into her hand. "Don't stay up too late."
She tilted her head and asked if I'll be out long. "Yeah," I admitted, straightening my jacket. "Back around two, I think."
Her gaze lingered on me a second longer than usual, like she wanted to ask where or why—but didn't. She just slipped the earbud back in, a small hum of acknowledgment.
"Bye," I said simply, giving her a faint smile before heading toward the door.
The elevator doors slid open with a muted chime, and I rode down in silence. In the basement garage, the shadows stretched long under the cold lights.
I pulled on my helmet, swung a leg over the bike, and the engine roared to life with a low growl.
By the time the tires hit the street, the city night swallowed me whole.
The neon sign of the Moonlight Diner buzzed faintly in the night air as I pulled in and parked. It was the kind of place where time seemed stuck—greasy booths, chrome trim, and a jukebox in the corner that hadn't been touched in years.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of coffee and fried bacon. A handful of customers lingered, truckers and night owls, but the place was mostly quiet.
I slid into a booth at the far corner, back to the wall, clear view of the door. Habit.
The waitress came over with a pad in hand. She couldn't have been more than twenty-one, with soft curls tucked under a messy ponytail, freckles across her cheeks, and a natural charm that was impossible to fake. She looked like Deborah from Baby Driver—the resemblance was uncanny.
[She looks like that girl from Baby Driver] Eve also chimed in, her voice dry in my head. [Maybe that world's fused into this one too.]
I ignored the comment, though I couldn't stop thinking about such a possibility and the pink flush on her cheeks when her eyes lingered on me a second too long was impossible not to notice.
In her lilting tone, she asked, "What can I get you tonight?"
"Coffee," I said simply.
She brought it a minute later, steaming hot, setting it down with a smile that carried just a bit of curiosity. "Don't think I've seen you here before. Passing through?"
I sipped, then answered evenly, "Not from around here. But maybe I'll become a regular." A small, disarming smile.
Her cheeks warmed again, and she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "We'll see." Then she slipped back to the counter, still stealing a glance as she walked away.
[Mr. Romeo] Eve teased.
I exhaled softly, shaking my head. 'I just like interacting with people I've only ever seen in movies and series.'
The bell above the diner door chimed right at midnight. I glanced up.
A man stepped in. Tall, lean, with the kind of presence that froze a room without effort. Early thirties, shoulder-length black hair parted down the middle, framing a sharp, brooding face.
Full beard trimmed just enough to keep from looking wild. He wore a plain black crew-neck T-shirt, brown pants, and boots that had seen more than one fight.
'John Wick!'
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Advanced chapters at:
patreon.com/Dreamwalker1