After hanging up the phone,
the smile faded from John Wick's face, replaced by a heavy seriousness.
Though Alex hadn't told him the details,
John could feel it—
returning to New York meant stepping straight into a storm.
But Alex had mentioned Caine.
Which could only mean one thing:
if John delayed,
his friend's life would be in grave danger.
He sighed,
looked at Helen, who was studying his face anxiously.
Forcing a softer smile, he pulled her into his arms.
"The company's hit a snag," he explained gently.
"They need me back to straighten it out."
Helen shook her head.
"Business comes first. I'll be flying back to New York tomorrow anyway. We can meet then."
John nodded.
"No rush. It's too late to leave tonight. Tomorrow morning, we go together."
"Mm…"
They embraced tightly.
John breathed in the scent of her hair,
his irritation easing,
his longing for a peaceful, retired life burning stronger than ever.
Meanwhile. Paris.
Caine and his daughter were still racing toward the airport.
Behind them—
killers swarmed in relentless pursuit.
"Mr. Caine," the bodyguard in the passenger seat said,
"two kilometers to the airport."
From there, traffic would thicken again.
The convoy would have to slow down.
And that meant one thing:
greater risk.
Caine nodded silently.
His eyes softened as he looked at his sleeping daughter.
But when he raised his gaze to the window,
catching sight of another wave of assassins closing in,
his expression sharpened into steel.
Suddenly—
Duggan appeared alongside,
his motorcycle skimming close to Caine's door.
Caine lowered the window slightly.
Two assassins of legend, exchanging a fleeting word in the middle of chaos.
"Mr. Alex has it arranged," Duggan said.
"A private jet. Once you're airborne—you'll make New York."
"Thank you, Jackal…" Caine murmured,
the only words he could find.
Duggan didn't linger.
"Take care of your daughter.
Alex's orders are clear.
Until New York—that's your only job."
And with that, he fell back.
He drew his pistol.
Took aim at a motorcyclist veering too close.
Bang!
The bullet ripped through a tire.
The rider went flying,
skidding across the asphalt in a screaming trail of sparks—
before being crushed beneath the wheels of an oncoming SUV.
The others spotted Duggan instantly.
One car gunned its engine, barreling straight for him.
Duggan didn't flinch.
He dropped speed.
At the last instant—
abandoned his bike,
rolled, came up shooting.
Bang! Bang!
The driver's head burst against the wheel.
The horn blared—
the car swerved and crashed into another lane.
A burning shot tore into Duggan's back.
He hissed, yanked his bulletproof jacket up to shield his head,
and fired blind over his shoulder.
Gunfire snapped back and forth—
cars screaming past between them, forcing both sides to break off.
Duggan seized the pause to reload.
Eyes scanning.
One shooter still standing nearby.
And from the distance, another SUV thundered in, aiming to ram.
No choice.
As the gun clicked into place, Duggan dove across the hood, rolled—
Bang! Bang!
One bullet through the head, another through the chest.
The shooter dropped.
Duggan climbed into the fallen car's passenger seat, strapped in.
CRASH!
The SUV slammed into the side.
Metal shrieked, glass shattered,
the smaller car skidding half a meter across the pavement.
Duggan braced himself with one hand on the overhead grip,
the other firing four precise shots through the windshield.
The SUV screeched to a halt.
Duggan ducked low, narrowly avoiding return fire from two assassins spilling out the back.
Crouching behind the front wheel,
he took a breath—
Bang!
Shot through the undercarriage,
blasting a man's ankle.
His scream echoed.
Sliding under, Duggan vaulted the hood, closing the distance—
Bang!
One round to finish him.
He tore open the rear door.
Kicked it with brutal force.
The assassin hiding behind was slammed to the ground—
Duggan shot him twice before he could rise.
The fight ended as quickly as it had begun.
Duggan shoved the corpse from the driver's seat,
slid behind the wheel,
slammed the car into reverse, spun it around—
and floored the accelerator.
Back into the convoy's wake.
Back toward Caine.
Back into the storm.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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