For Alex, his principle toward Caine and John Wick was simple:
He might not need to use them every day—
but he had to keep them tied to his side.
Because in the future, he would bring down the High Table.
And when that time came, the last thing he wanted was for these two gods of death to be standing on the enemy's side,
forcing him to waste dozens, maybe even hundreds of his own assassins just to eliminate them.
Compared to that, the small price he was paying now was nothing.
If it meant Caine would commit to helping him three times without question, it was more than worth it—
a true win-win.
…
Clearly, Caine was tempted by Alex's offer.
"You're certain—after I join, aside from three missions of my own choice, there will be no further demands?"
"Correct."
"You can guarantee my daughter and I will never be disturbed by the High Table again?"
"I guarantee it."
Alex's words were sharp and certain.
Even though his power in New York was still new, his confidence was unshaken.
Caine studied Alex's expression, running his fingers along his glass, weighing the risks in his heart.
Finally, he made his decision: he would trust Alex—
and if Alex failed, Caine would still find a way to protect his daughter.
With that, he lifted his head, drained his vodka in a single gulp, and gave his answer:
"Fine. I'll do it."
"Mr. Caine, welcome to the fold."
Alex clinked his glass against his and drank deeply.
Anna and Duggan followed suit.
On the side, John Wick silently watched.
He looked down at his untouched vodka.
Seeing the decisiveness with which Caine, for the sake of his daughter, abandoned the assassin's path forever…
John Wick felt, just for a fleeting moment, a strange weariness toward the life he still lived.
But the feeling was brief, vanishing before it could take root.
…
Santos Club.
When Alex and his group returned, Susie was already outside, wearing a hardhat and directing workers as they remodeled the building.
This renovation was massive.
She was sparing no expense.
Even the windows were being replaced with bulletproof glass.
Caine glanced at the ripped-up floors and walls inside—
all riddled with dense bullet holes, stained with blood.
He could easily imagine how brutal the battle last night had been.
"Mr. Alex, are you sure… I won't be dragged into things like this in the future?"
He gestured with a slim straight blade—still in its sheath—toward a piece of bloodstained, bullet-riddled flooring being carried out by workers.
"Mr. Caine," Alex replied with a wry, confident smile, "one man doesn't deceive another."
Caine rolled his eyes, lowering the blade.
With words like that, what else was there to doubt?
"Oh, and Mr. Caine," Alex added, clapping him lightly on the shoulder, "tonight you and Mr. Wick should have a good drink here. Old friends deserve that. The organization will cover the tab."
With that playful remark, Alex led Anna and Duggan toward the underground stairway.
Behind him, Caine and John Wick exchanged a look—
both of them at a loss for words.
…
Rome.
At the Camorra Family headquarters, Gianna stood on the balcony of her bedroom, staring down at the execution platform below.
Her brother Santino was bound to a crucifix, enduring one of the family's most ancient punishments.
Exposed beneath the burning sun, his lips already cracked and dry, his body baking in the heat.
If he survived two days, the punishment would end—
but he would then be exiled to the harshest of the family's domains, forced to repay the damage he had caused.
If he died, he would be buried—cross and all.
No one looked his way.
Only Ares stood silently nearby, watching without a word.
Gianna made no move to beg their father for mercy.
The High Table had its laws.
The Camorra had its traditions.
Turning away from the sight of her brother's suffering, she accepted a phone from Cassian, who bowed respectfully.
Her father's voice came through the receiver:
"Gianna, I want to hear your thoughts. Don't tell me you don't realize what a disgrace it is to hand over that hotel and club."
"Father."
She answered reverently, then spoke steadily:
"Given the current situation, the family had no choice but to concede."
"Of course, this is only temporary. Against an enemy like Alex, we cannot risk the entire family."
Her eyes returned briefly to Santino, and in them burned suppressed rage and hatred.
"The most important thing now is for the Camorra to rebuild its strength. As for New York, we must find someone who can continuously cause Alex trouble."
"We wait quietly. And when he's at his weakest—
we strike, and kill him with a single blow."
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