Iosef Tarasov had never been in such a pathetic state in his life.
His custom suit was soaked with sweat, his blonde hair stuck to his forehead, and his fingers were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.
In the rearview mirror, the New York night was stained blue and red by sirens and flames, but what frightened him most wasn't the police, but that man.
The man known as the "Boogeyman."
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
He had easily defeated him that night!
Why hadn't he killed him that night!
And had only stolen his car!
He floored the accelerator, and the Mercedes-Benz AMG engine roared, nearing its limit.
The tires spun on the wet road, almost hitting the guardrail.
Iosef yanked the steering wheel, and in the rearview mirror, a black cadillac ghosted his tail.
"Why?! All for a damn dog?!"
His voice exploded in the car, trembling with hysteria.
Three days ago, he was the heir of the Tarasov Family, the prince of New York's underworld.
Now?
He was like a stray dog, with death itself trailing him, a death that even a bulletproof car couldn't stop.
His father's words echoed in his mind:
"Why did you provoke John?"
How had he answered then?
"Just a retired old man!"
Now he knew, that "old man" could kill all twenty-seven of his bodyguards in three hours, could stab a man's throat with a pencil, could drive a car into his villa, and then, in front of his father, shatter his favorite Italian crystal chandelier with a shotgun.
"Continental Hotel... as long as I get to the Continental Hotel..."
Iosef gasped, his lips cracked and bleeding.
The High Table's rules were above all else, even John had to obey them; as long as he stepped inside the hotel's doors, he would be safe.
The golden lights of the Continental Hotel finally appeared in his sight.
Iosef slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching loudly in front of the hotel entrance.
He stumbled out of the car, his legs so weak he almost knelt on the ground.
Then, he saw that person.
A man in black tactical gear, casually leaning against a marble pillar, twirling a glock 34 in his hand.
His face bore bloodstains, but a smile played on his lips, as if he had been waiting for a long time.
"Hey, weak boy." Zhang Jie looked up, his eyes as cold as ice, "What a coincidence."
Coincidence your mother!
Iosef's mind went blank.
The surveillance from the Red Bear Bar showed this man had just killed all of Ivan's subordinates, and now he was here?!
"Get out of the way! Yellow-skinned monkey!" Iosef growled, his eyes fierce but unable to hide his fear.
His hand went to his waist; the holster was empty, his gun had fallen out sometime during his escape.
Damn it!
When it rains, it pours!
Zhang Jie tilted his head, his smile widening: "Get out of the way? No!"
"Do you know who the hell I am?!" Iosef's voice rose, as if to suppress his trembling, "The Tarasov Family—"
"—is about to be wiped out." Zhang Jie interrupted him, stepping forward, "Is your father still alive?"
Iosef's pupils contracted.
He lunged at the hotel door but was brought down by a sweep kick from Zhang Jie.
The back of his head hit the marble floor hard, and he saw stars.
"Please..." Iosef struggled to get up, his voice tearful, "Let me in... I'll give you money! One million! Two million!"
One million?
Zhang Jie's fingers paused slightly.
How many years of rent would that cover?
How many good guns could it buy?
It could even get a decent car... His breath hitched for a moment, and Mrs. Schneider's bills, his rusty glock, and that perpetually leaky old apartment flashed through his mind.
But the next second, he thought of Daisy.
The beagle that rubbed against his pants in the park, its wet nose, and John's rare tender look when he petted it.
And during those five months of training, this little guy always liked to cause trouble.
A well-behaved, docile, and mischievous puppy, who wouldn't like it?
He had thought he had trained Daisy to hide if someone entered the house to prevent this day, but he didn't expect it to still be killed.
And with this little bit, he still wanted to buy its dog's life?
Too little, too little!
No, no, no, this is for you to keep.
No one can take Daisy's life from him; if it's taken, it must be repaid with a life.
Even if he was really poor, even if Mrs. Schneider was hounding him for money every day.
Even if he... "No." Zhang Jie's voice was colder than before.
Iosef's expression twisted: "Five million! Cash! I can give it to you now!"
"Shut up." Zhang Jie kicked him in the knee; Iosef screamed and fell to his knees, "Do you think money can buy a life?"
"Then what do you want?!" Iosef shouted, collapsing, "Women? Power? I can give you anything!"
Zhang Jie didn't speak, he just flexed his wrist.
During those five months of training, every scolding, every correction from John, had been etched into his muscles as instinct.
When Iosef charged again, he sidestepped, elbowed the back of his neck, kneed his abdomen, his movements fluid.
The Russian young master fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, coughing up bitter bile, convulsing on the floor.
"Why..." Iosef lay on the ground, his nails digging into the carpet, "All for a damn dog..."
Zhang Jie's eyes darkened.
"Yes." He said softly, "All for a dog."
The screech of brakes tore through the night sky.
A cadillac with a dented hood stopped in front of the hotel, and when the door opened, the metal hinges groaned under the strain.
John stepped out.
His suit was immaculate, but the bandage on his right hand had long since come undone, revealing a bleeding wound.
Yet his steps were still steady, like a drawn knife, slowly approaching.
Iosef collapsed on the ground, his crotch suddenly wet. He remembered his father's words:
"Why do you want to kill death itself?"
Now death stood before him.
"Didn't I tell you..." John's voice was terribly hoarse, "not to get involved?"
Zhang Jie shrugged: "I didn't get involved, I just did what needed to be done."
John was silent for a second, his eyes somewhat distant, a conversation so familiar yet strange.
He hadn't expected to hear it again.
He hadn't expected this rookie, who was always worried about rent, to come, nor had he expected him to keep Iosef out so long.
It seemed he had truly grown a lot.
"This isn't your business to be involved in."
"I know." Zhang Jie stepped back, but his gun was still pointed at Iosef, "So he's for you to deal with."
Iosef suddenly broke down.
He crawled on his knees towards John, snot and tears streaming down his face: "Mr. Wick! I was wrong! I'll never dare again! I can compensate you with a hundred dogs! A thousand!"
John looked down at him, his eyes like he was looking at a cockroach.
"Daisy was one of a kind."
He drew his 1911, pressing the barrel against Iosef's forehead.
"My father will tear you to pieces!"
"Thanks for the reminder, I'll go say hello to him."
Iosef's pupils suddenly constricted when he heard the word "hello," as if he finally realized what kind of monster he had provoked.
Behind the revolving doors of the Continental Hotel, Winston sighed and gently drew the curtains.
Bang!