Chapter 50 (The Mortal Multiverse : Liam Raven Harper)

Chapter 50 - Building the Case (Part-8)

3rd Person PoV

The pub was dimly lit, smoky, and half-empty at this late hour.

A few men hunched over pints at the bar, while a jukebox in the corner hummed with an old blues tune.

In the back, tucked into a leather booth shadowed by the flickering light of a neon beer sign, sat John Wick.

He wore his usual black—black T-shirt, black jeans, boots polished but scarred from use.

A bottle of Russian vodka rested in front of him, condensation running down its glass.

Two shot glasses sat empty and waiting.

Wick didn’t fidget, didn’t look around and just simply sat, patient as a stone, the faint hum of violence lingering around him like smoke.

The pub’s door opened, and heads turned.

She walked in like she owned the air itself—striking red hair tied back, black leather jacket unzipped over a white tank top, dark jeans that clung just right, and boots that clicked against the worn wooden floor.

Eyes followed her, but she didn’t notice, or maybe she didn’t care. Her focus was locked on Wick.

If Liam was here, he would have immediately identified her. It was Natasha Romanoff from the marvel movie.

Natasha Romanoff slid into the booth opposite him, back straight, eyes sharp, confidence radiating like a blade’s edge.

Wick poured vodka into both glasses, the sound of liquid filling crystal breaking the silence between them. He slid one toward her.

“Natasha,” John greeted, his voice low, steady.

“John,” she replied, her tone clipped but familiar.

They clinked glasses once—sharp, deliberate—and downed the shots in one swing.

Wick set his glass down. “How’s your father’s health?”

Her gaze softened just slightly. “He’s doing good. Better than before.”

Wick nodded, satisfied. Silence stretched, comfortable.

Then he leaned in, his voice quieter. “I’ve got a friend. He’s interested in hiring you as his investigator.”

Natasha’s brows rose, a flicker of curiosity. “Who?”

“Liam Harper,” Wick said simply. “Prosecutor in the Manhattan DA’s office.”

That got her attention. “A prosecutor?” Her lips curved, not quite a smile, more an evaluation. “Not exactly our line of work, John.”

Wick’s expression didn’t change. “True, but Harper isn’t like the others. If you work with him, you’ll face situations that’ll test you, sharpen you. More than that—you’ll learn how to operate where most people like us never tread.”

She leaned back, studying him. “That’s a big endorsement. Coming from my father’s favorite student.”

Wick’s mouth twitched, the barest ghost of amusement.

He shook his head. “You’ll understand once you work with him. In our world, we work in the shadows, unseen, because that’s where we get results, but Harper—” He paused, his eyes locked with hers. “Harper wins in the daylight. Alone, if he has to and he still gets results no matter what.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, intrigued now. She tapped a nail against her empty glass. “You’re saying he doesn’t just survive the system. He bends it to his will.”

Wick nodded

A beat of silence stretched, Natasha’s gaze sharp as if weighing the truth of Wick’s words.

Then she gave a small, approving nod. “I’m interested.”

Wick reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded napkin, and slid it across the table.

Liam’s system number was written on it, ink pressed hard into the paper.

“His secure line. Text him.”

Natasha picked it up, glanced at the number, and folded it once before tucking it into her jacket. Her lips finally curved into the faintest smirk and nodded.

Without another word, she grabbed the vodka bottle, refilled both their glasses, and lifted hers.

“Za zdorovye,” she said smoothly.

They clinked once more, and both emptied their shots, no hesitation.

The pub around them kept humming as they finished the bottle with ease.

Manhattan DA’s Office

Liam sat behind his desk, receiver pressed to his ear.

On the other end, Hale’s lawyer—Stone—sounded desperate but still clinging to that smug, lawyerly confidence.

“Harper,” Stone began smoothly, “we both know dragging Marcus into trial is a waste of time. The DA’s office will spend weeks, burn resources, and at the end, what do you get? A conviction with a sentence no harsher than what I’m putting on the table right now. My client is willing to plead guilty so it’s all you could ask for. This is a win for you so why don’t we end this and sign the deal.”

Liam’s voice was steady, almost bored. “That’s definitely a win for me, Stone but I want to be done through trial rather than back room deals. This if for justice.”

“Justice?” Stone scoffed. “You want justice, go be a priest. You’re a prosecutor. Deals are part of the game.”

Liam leaned back, eyes narrowing. “I don’t play games. Not when your client is laundering money, pushing cocaine, and thinks he can make public statements without consequences.”

Stone’s tone sharpened, irritation bleeding through. “You’re making a mistake, Harper. A trial is a roll of the dice. A good defense—and I am a good defense—can shred witnesses, twist narratives, and suddenly you’re staring at an acquittal. Are you willing to risk that?”

Liam didn’t blink. “If I have to stand alone in front of twelve jurors and show them exactly who Marcus Hale is, then yes. I’ll risk it. Because unlike you, Stone, I don’t deal in illusions. I deal in facts and I’ve got more than enough of those.”

There was a long silence. Then Stone hissed, “You’ll regret this.”

Liam’s lips curved faintly. “The only one regretting anything will be your client. See you in court, Stone.”

He hung up without waiting for a reply.

Liam won’t let them know his focus was not only one Hale but the others above him so he had to play it by saying stuff like justice.

The moment his line went dead, Liam dialed to another person. It was Detective Cross.

“Cross here.”

“It’s Liam. I need everything you can dig up on Victor Marino.”

That drew a pause. “Marino? Why the sudden focus on a big loan shark?”

“He’s tied to Hale,” Liam replied, keeping his tone clipped. “I can’t share specifics yet. Just trust me but know that it’s relevant.”

Cross’s voice came back, measured. “Alright. You just want a general profile, or something more concrete?”

“More concrete,” Liam said. “Specifically, I want to know who acts as his muscle. Every man like Marino has one—the enforcer who keeps the fear alive. Find me his name.”

Rustling papers came through the line. “We’ve got a few open cases on Marino. I’ll dig through and send you what I can. Expect it in your inbox.”

“Thanks, Cross. I owe you one.”

Cross gave a dry chuckle. “You already owe me three. But I’ll add it to the tab.”

Liam smirked faintly before ending the call. He leaned back, gaze fixed on the ceiling, already piecing together the next move.

Liam’s attention was on his desktop monitor showing a new mail from detective Cross

The report unfolded across his screen.

Attached were scanned case notes, photographs, and a short summary.

Cross had been quick and the message was direct:

Subject : Victor Marino’s Organization

Name: Dominic Rizzo - Primary Enforcer

Alias: “Dom the Bull”

Background: Multiple assault charges, no convictions. Known for enforcing debts, specializing in intimidation and physical violence. Former amateur boxer—record of 27 wins, 3 losses before being banned for suspected fight fixing. Tied to Marino for the last seven years. Seen accompanying him at several gambling establishments and nightclubs.

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Dominic Rizzo. Makes sense. Every shark needs teeth.”

[Sounds like more than teeth] Eve commented. [That’s muscle with a brain behind it. Not the disposable kind]

Liam gave a curt nod. “Exactly. Which means getting near Marino without brushing up against Rizzo will be impossible. We’ll need him.”

A soft ding from the system chimed, pulling Liam’s attention from the monitor to his HUD.

One new message blinked in his system mail.

It was from Nexor Labs.

[The lab’s final report?] Eve asked.

“Indeed” Liam muttered.

Liam tapped it open, eyes scanning rapidly through the technical breakdown.

Subject: Forensic Report – Powder Sample

Conclusion: The lactose-based powder contains enhanced protein binding properties and high absorption ratios, typically consistent with performance supplements but unlike anything in the market. No toxic components identified. No narcotic or scheduled substances present. In its current state, the powder is not illegal and doesn’t cause side effects.

Liam frowned. “Not illegal stuff or any side effects?”

He scrolled again, looking for hidden notes. Nothing.

Eve’s voice broke through. [So it is similar to normal protein powder and not a poison. Just… fancy protein powder with unusual properties. That doesn’t add up, Liam. Why would Hale risk storing so much of it?]

“Exactly,” Liam said, rubbing his temple. “If it’s clean, then what’s the angle? Distribution doesn’t explain it. There’s something off here.”

Eve pressed, [Do you want me to run deeper cross-references—nutritional patents, biochemical research, performance enhancers?]

Liam shook his head. “No use. This is a problem but it can wait. Dominic Rizzo comes first.”

The file closed, and Liam’s reflection in the darkened HUD screen stared back at him, jaw set.

[Next move?] Eve asked.

Liam slid his chair back and stood. “We meet Rizzo. If I can break Marino’s shield, I can get the man himself and once strike him down along with Hale’s, the whole picture will start to crack open.”

He picked up his coat, his mind already moving three steps ahead.

The End