"How much do you know about this High Table… the Baba Yaga… and the Continental Hotel?"
The thought lingered in Viggo's mind as he instinctively asked Pop.
But compared to Viggo's confusion, Pop's face shifted instantly. His eyes narrowed, filled with sudden caution.
He set his glass down, leaned closer, and lowered his voice.
"How do you know about the Baba Yaga?"
"I overheard someone mention it once. Then you brought it up today, so I thought I'd ask."
Seeing Pop's nervous reaction, Viggo kept his guard. He didn't tell the truth, only gave a vague excuse.
Disappointment flickered across Pop's face. He sank heavily into the sofa with a sigh.
"I thought you actually knew the Baba Yaga…"
At that, Viggo's eyes narrowed, then quickly returned to normal. Pop didn't notice, and went on speaking.
"I don't know much myself. Only that while working for Night Demon, I once heard him mention the Baba Yaga. He said the man was a top assassin driven purely by willpower."
Viggo smacked his lips and forced a laugh.
"You really think someone like that exists? Sounds like a fairy tale."
Pop gave a half-hearted chuckle, letting the subject drop. Then he changed the topic.
"Anyway, Night Demon sent me here for business. He wants you to send some of your best enforcers with me."
"No problem."
Viggo agreed, pulled out his phone, and made a call. Soon, a few men arrived downstairs.
After chatting idly for a moment more, he escorted Pop out.
When Viggo returned to his office, someone else was already inside—his son, Iosef Tarasov, fresh out of high school.
The boy sat sprawled on the couch with a video game console in hand. Hearing his father come in, he didn't even look up.
"Don't get it. Why play all these games? Just find out where the Baba Yaga is, pay him, and have him kill Night Demon. Problem solved."
"Iosef… don't ever say things like that in front of outsiders."
Viggo's voice carried a hint of reproach. But in truth, his son's words struck home.
If only Iosef knew that in the future, he'd kill John Wick's dog… perhaps Viggo would hang him up and beat him right now.
Compared to the chaos boiling in New York, life was far more comfortable for John Wick down in Mexico.
One day to meet.
Five days to fall in love.
Now, he was completely immersed in the sweetness of romance, forgetting—if only briefly—his identity as an assassin.
Flowers.
Candles.
A fine suit.
At Mexico's most famous couple's restaurant, John Wick sat across from Helen, enjoying the signature lovers' meal.
He forked a piece of steak, chewed slowly, swallowed, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin.
Helen looked at him with playful curiosity.
"John… don't you have to go to work? Spending every day with me like this…"
"My job's… pretty flexible."
Her words made him recall what he really was. His smile faded just slightly as he fumbled for a vague explanation.
For the first time in decades, he felt tired of the assassin's life.
Somehow, his thoughts turned to Caine, who only wanted to retire peacefully to raise his daughter.
And of course, another name surfaced—Alex.
Maybe… the only one who could help me retire in peace, and live happily with Helen… is him.
The Lighthouse Hotel.
Second floor, manager's office.
The scratch of pencil on paper echoed in the quiet room.
Susie was busy, adjusting the security layouts for both the hotel and the club.
Her pencil circled weak points on the diagrams—exactly the spots where assassin squads had breached during past attacks.
Two assassins stood guard in the office.
On the sofa sat Irene, composed yet respectful. From time to time, she glanced nervously toward the door.
Before long, footsteps approached from the hall.
Susie looked up first, spotting Alex. She immediately set aside her diagrams, stood, and moved to pour him a hot coffee—placing it neatly on the table before stepping aside.
Irene, by contrast, was calmer than last time. She lowered her head, waiting quietly as Alex entered, sat, and sipped his coffee.
Finally, with sharp timing, she spoke.
"Sir, the Giselle Gang has expanded its territory by double, just as you instructed."
Alex looked up at her, voice indifferent.
"That why you wanted to see me?"
"No…"
Irene quickly replied. She reached to the table and carefully presented a folder.
"Sir, I wanted to see you because I wish to negotiate a permanent deal with the Lighthouse Organization."
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