Manhattan. Uptown. Harlem, St. Simms Church.
The convoy circled back here.
The church was closed, its doors locked.
Cars pulled up along the curb. Alex Cross stepped out with Anna and a handful of uninjured killers. John Wick got out as well.
Anna walked ahead.
Bang! Bang!
Two shots, clean and precise—shattering the locks.
They entered the church.
The bodies had already been cleared away. The blood scrubbed from the floor. Only the splintered chairs and bullet-pocked walls bore witness to the firefight that had erupted here not long ago.
"Take out every camera inside."
A sharp command. Gunfire echoed. Hidden security cameras in the corners dropped one by one, sparking as they hit the floor.
But the noise triggered a reaction.
From the rear of the church came a priest, flanked by over a dozen armed Camorra killers.
The priest clutched a sawed-off shotgun, his voice heavy with rage.
"Who are you people—"
Before he could finish, one of the killers yanked at his robes, his face pale with fury. He pointed straight at Anna, voice cracking between fear and hate:
"It's her! The woman who killed Lily Archer—and butchered so many of our Camorra brothers. You'll pay for that!"
He pulled the trigger—
But Anna and the others didn't give him the chance.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Gunfire roared.
Seconds later, every Camorra soldier lay dead on the church floor. Only the priest remained—kneeling, hands shot through, trembling in agony.
Alex stepped past the corpses, his eyes on the broken figure. Then he looked up at the statue of Christ, made the sign of the cross over his chest, and muttered a prayer—mock solemn.
When it ended, he grabbed the priest by the collar and, with a polite glance at John Wick, said:
"Mr. Wick, I have some private business to take care of. If you don't mind, perhaps you could rest here… maybe say a prayer to God."
"Yeah."
That single word was all Wick offered. He quietly found a seat, closed his eyes, and seemed to begin his own prayer.
Alex left a few men inside, then dragged the priest with Anna into the back courtyard.
The "courtyard" was no garden. It was an armory.
A few cars parked under a shed, and an entire wall of weapons.
Anna shot out the cameras.
Only then did Alex throw the priest to the ground.
"Don't kill me…" the priest begged, clinging to the floor.
Alex ignored it. He picked a pistol from the rack, loaded a round, flicked off the safety, and pressed the barrel to the priest's forehead.
"I need the Camorra's New York division—everything. Addresses, numbers, structure."
"I… I can't… if I talk, they'll kill me…"
The trembling reply fell flat.
Bang!
A bullet slammed into his knee.
The priest screamed, collapsing in agony.
Alex sneered.
"That's not the answer I asked for."
Terrified, the priest clutched his bleeding leg and pointed shakily toward the weapons wall.
"Behind the middle panel… a safe. Code's 3319. Everything you want is inside. Please… spare me…"
Anna quickly found it, punched in the code, and pulled it open: stacks of gold coins, a bundle of documents, and cash.
When she finished scanning the files, she gave Alex a nod.
Alex turned back to the priest, smiling faintly.
"Tell me, Father… do you truly believe in God?"
The priest's lips trembled. He dared not answer.
But Alex didn't wait for one.
"Then let me show you a miracle."
With a flick of his wrist, fifty [Green Assassin Recruitment Scrolls] appeared in his hand. A thought, and they dissolved into glowing motes.
One by one, fifty assassins materialized across the courtyard.
The priest's eyes bulged. His voice cracked, raw with terror.
"No! Impossible… only God can do such things—"
"Heh." Alex chuckled coldly, raising his gun once more.
"Then, Father… let me send you to meet Him."
Bang!
The shot rang out.
The priest crumpled, lifeless. His eyes remained wide open, filled with incomprehension and despair even in death.