"The High Table does not compromise with anyone."
At last, after a long silence, that was the response that came from the other end of the line.
Perhaps none of the Twelve ever expected… that Alex's primary concern would be property damage.
But Alex always had a way of bending their own rules back against them—playing the game with utter clarity.
"Is that so?"
Alex's voice came again, calm and deliberate.
"Much like those so-called heretic assassins hiding in the mountains behind Lake Avernus and Feldkirch. You've defined them as cultists, and they almost never abide by High Table law… yet you still turn a blind eye, even granting them access to every service under your banner."
Silence again.
The organization Alex referenced was infamous—the rogue cult from Ballerina. The High Table knew them well. They'd grown too entrenched; purging them would be costly, even crippling. And so, the Twelve had chosen to tolerate them.
Now Alex had dragged that hypocrisy into the open.
With no other option, the voice on the line spoke again.
"Mr. Alex, you argue well. But that doesn't mean the Lighthouse has the strength you claim."
"How can you be so sure?" Alex countered smoothly. "Have you forgotten? The Lighthouse was built atop the ashes of the Camorra's New York division. Doesn't that mean we already rival the Romani Syndicate, the Chinese Triads, the Camorra branches… perhaps even surpass them?"
"I suspect, somewhere in the High Table's ancient codes, you'll find a rule that says this: any group capable of challenging one of the Twelve's family-backed branches is to be recognized as an equal."
"Otherwise, if my power and my station do not match, why should my Lighthouse be bound by your rules?"
Whether such a rule truly existed, Alex did not know. Nor did he care. If the Lighthouse had to force the Table to invent it, so be it.
In simple terms: if the Lighthouse was willing to play by the rules, then the High Table was obligated to grant it status in return.
And at the same time, this was Alex's test—to probe for the Table's bottom line.
…
"Twenty-four hours."
Finally, after another long pause, the Twelve gave their verdict.
"Mr. Alex, you have twenty-four hours to decide."
"In that time, you may surrender Caine and his daughter. If you do, we will treat this matter as if it never happened."
"Or… you may spend those twenty-four hours preparing. Once they expire, the High Table will unleash its Enforcers against the Lighthouse for forty-eight hours of eradication."
"As you've said—" the voice went on, "if the Lighthouse survives those forty-eight hours, then we will acknowledge your organization as the equal of any of the Twelve families' branches. And we will cease all pursuit of Caine and his daughter."
"Furthermore… the entirety of Adjudicator Seven's estate will be seized to compensate your hotel for damages."
The line went dead.
Alex had what he wanted. And he chose to forgive their little discourtesy with a generous smile.
He lifted his eyes toward the center of the lobby, where Adjudicator Seven still stood waiting.
With a flick of his wrist, Alex tossed the phone back.
Then, almost casually, he asked:
"Tell me, Adjudicator Seven—how much is your estate worth?"
"Why… why would you ask that?"
"Because the High Table just wagered all of it against me."
Gulp!
The Adjudicator swallowed hard. For the first time, fear crept across his face. Cold sweat streamed down his brow.
He understood now: if the Lighthouse endured, he would be discarded like a pawn.
Yet what choice did he have? He could not defy the Table.
After a long, painful hesitation, he gave the answer.
"Five thousand gold coins… and one hundred million in cash."
Of course.
Alex almost laughed aloud. John Wick, the honest workhorse, had spent decades scraping together barely eight hundred coins. Even the Camorra's New York branch had boasted no more than a thousand.
But this Adjudicator? He'd managed to hoard five thousand. Outrageous.
Still—better for Alex.
With such a fortune in play, the stakes were higher than ever.
And he held four aces in his hand: John Wick, Caine, Duggan, and Anna.
Even against the High Table's so-called "Enforcers, armed to the teeth"…
Alex could boldly declare—
No matter how many you send, I'll cut them all down.
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