Advanced chapters at:
patreon.com/Dreamwalker1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Liam's Pov
'John Wick!'
His eyes scanned the diner once, then locked on me. Without hesitation, he crossed over and slid into the booth opposite me.
The booth felt smaller when he sat down across from me. John Wick didn't fill space with words; he filled it with silence, the kind that pressed on your chest until you broke it yourself.
I leaned back against the booth, hand wrapped around my coffee. "Been a while."
He gave a slow nod. "Yeah." His voice was low, gravel with restraint. "You look the same. Just… tired."
I smirked. "You don't look too different yourself."
His eyes flicked over me, weighing, like he was measuring something I couldn't see. Then a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Still on the bike?"
"Always," I replied. "Still using pencils to fight?"
That earned a faint huff of amusement — the closest thing to laughter I'd get out of him tonight.
Deborah came by, refilled my coffee, asked if John wanted anything. He just shook his head, polite but final, and she moved on giving me a glance as she walked by
Silence lingered. Comfortable this time. Old friends didn't need to fill the gaps.
Finally, I set the cup down. "I need your help, John."
His gaze sharpened. He didn't ask why. He already knew.
"I want you as my shadow investigator," I said quietly, leaning in just enough. "Hidden. Off the books. Someone who can get where I can't."
He was silent for a long moment, staring at the table, then at me. His eyes softened a fraction. "I don't mind working for you. We're friends."
He paused, steady. "But I won't be available full-time. Not anymore. I want to spend most of my time with my wife."
I nodded slowly. I knew this would come. I'd been at their wedding — only few people in a out door event, just enough witnesses to make it real. John deserved his peace.
"That's fine," I said. "I wouldn't ask you to give that up. I'll only reach out when it's important."
John leaned back, considering. "Then you'll need someone else. Someone who can work in the light. Play the game, at least half of mine."
I raised a brow. "You have someone in mind?"
His expression barely shifted, but there was weight in it. "My mentor's daughter. She's new. No experience in the field. But she's trained well. Needs a client." He studied me carefully. "Interested?"
I didn't hesitate. "Yes."
He gave the faintest nod. "I'll send you her contact."
"John," I said evenly. "I'll need your bank account."
His brows knit, the look sharp but not hostile. "Bank?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I've got someone who can move funds off a hidden account. Completely untraceable. Payments for your work will go directly there."
John leaned back, skeptical. The silence between us stretched thin. "Untraceable? Between banks?"
His voice was heavy, edged with doubt. "I prefer cash."
I held his gaze, calm. "Trust me. You'll understand later."
In my head, Eve's voice chimed with her usual cool certainty. [Relax, The system bank isn't bound by their rules. Software, auditors, algorithms — it'll all gloss over anything we move. They literally can't see it.]
I let a small smile tug at my lips, meeting John's stare without flinching. "I'm good for it. You know that."
Another pause. His eyes softened slightly — not much, but enough to show he remembered who I was. Who I'd been there for. He gave a slow nod. "Alright."
He took a napkin, asked for a pen from Deborah. She gave him the pen and left, John scribbled a string of numbers and without a word, slid it across the table.
I picked it up, gave it a quick look, then folded it once and slipped it into my jacket pocket.
Now it was my turn. I pulled a clean napkin and wrote down a single number.
Distinct. Unique. Not connected to any carrier.
I slid it to him. "That's my secure line. From now on, this is how we talk."
John picked it up, studied it, then met my eyes. "A burner?"
I let the corner of my mouth curve into something between a smirk and a secret. "Something like that."
He didn't press. Just tucked the napkin into his pocket with the same quiet acceptance he carried into every fight.
I leaned back, fingers tapping lightly against my coffee mug. "John… do you know about Hale's case?"
He nodded once, slow. "Celebrity trainer."
"Yes." I exhaled through my nose. "I've been assigned his case at the DA's office."
That earned me a glance — his eyes narrowing slightly. "I thought you'd be working corporate."
I shook my head. "Not yet. Reputation and track record comes first. Without a name, corporate doesn't mean anything."
He gave a faint grunt of approval, the kind that carried more weight than words.
I continued, voice steady. "Hale's case looks silly. Cops pulled him for reckless driving. Booked DUI — he was over the limit. During the vehicle check, they found a bag of Cocain… and lactose powder."
"Milk powder?" For once, surprise flickered across his face.
"Yeah." My lips tightened. "And now I need to build a case in two days, because his lawyers are pushing for dismissal. Media's with him. Celebrities are with him. Public opinion's stacked in his favor."
John gave a slow nod, processing, his eyes fixed on me like he was reading between the lines.
I leaned forward. "First thing — I need a lab. Someone who can test that powder for anything the DA's lab might've missed."
"I'll share a contact," he said without hesitation. "You'll get what you need."
I nodded. "Second — Hale. I want everything. His habits, his friends, his shady deals. Anything buried. Drag it out."
John sat back, his face calm, unreadable. "Alright. I'll start digging. If I find something, you'll know."
In my head, Eve's voice cut in — smooth, approving. [Good. Delegation. He's the perfect hound for this hunt — point him at the shadows, and he'll flush out the secrets.'
I smirked faintly, eyes on John. "That's it for now. We move fast. I'll handle the courtroom, you handle the dirt."
He gave one last nod, and the silence that followed wasn't empty — it was agreement, sealed.
John rose first, he gave me a nod — nothing more before slipping out into the night. The bell above the diner door chimed, and then he was gone.
A few minutes later, Deborah drifted back to my booth, bill in hand. She slid it across the table with that same easy charm in her eyes. "Here you go."
I didn't even glance at it. Just smiled, slipped a fifty onto the check, and pushed it toward her. "Keep the change."
Her cheeks warmed again, just a touch. She lingered half a second too long. "So… are you really going to become a regular?"
I met her eyes, the corner of my mouth tugging upward as I slid out of the booth.
"Indeed" I replied with a smile and a casual wave goodbye.
The bell over the door rang again as I stepped into the night air, leather jacket catching the streetlight. Behind me, the diner hummed on, but out here, the city was mine again.
3rd Person Pov
[John Wick's Apartment — Brooklyn]
Inside the apartment. One of the rooms had a minimalist look.
One desk, one gun case and a wedding photo framed neatly on the shelf — Helen smiling, John with that rare softness in his eyes.
John was seated at the desk, pulled out a phone which was taped under the desk, and scrolled through encrypted contacts.
He tapped a number. After two rings, a low voice answered.
"Yeah?"
"It's John."
Pause. Then recognition in the tone. "Been a while."
"I need a lab. Quiet. No questions asked. Something clean enough to handle powders for someone."
The man chuckled, dry and tired. "Still keeping busy, huh? Fine. I'll text you an address. Ask your guy to bring it tomorrow night at 10."
John didn't reply. He just ended the call. He received a text with a name and address .
He took out the napkin with Liam's new number and added it to contacts and sent him the info about the lab.
Two hours later, an unmarked sedan sat in the shadows of a street, engine off, windshield reflecting the faint glow of the moon.
Inside, John sat in the driver's seat, silent, eyes fixed on the high-rise across the block. The upper floors pulsed with light, shadows of people moving.
Beside him, a man in his late twenties shifted slightly in his seat. Sharp jaw, unshaven, his clothes simple but practical.
The kind of man who blended into a crowd and never left a memory behind.
As if on cue, Hale staggered out the front doors, flanked by two women, laughter spilling into the night. A waiting SUV opened its doors, and the trio piled in. The vehicle pulled away with an arrogant sweep of headlights.
The younger man's eyes followed it. "You want me on him?"
John finally turned, his gaze steady. "Yes"
The man gave a short nod. "Understood." He slid out of the sedan and into a second car parked down the street — no hesitation, no wasted movement and the car followed the SUV
John stayed behind for another moment, watching the last reflections of Hale's SUV and the second car vanish around the corner.
His expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed, memorizing routes, guards, movements.
Then he opened his door, stepped out into the cool Manhattan air, and closed it quietly. No sound carried.
He adjusted his coat, slipped his hands into his pockets, and walked away from the car, towards Hale's residence.
By the time headlights from another vehicle washed across the street, John Wick had already disappeared into the darkness of the night.
-----END-----
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Advanced chapters at:
patreon.com/Dreamwalker1