Smith met Santino's gaze steadily. "There is one alternative. When you possess another Dragon Balls, I'll tell you what they're used for."
Santino's brow furrowed. "Another one? But I have, " He stopped mid-sentence, realization dawning. "Ah. You know about my arrangement with John Wick."
Smith's slight smile confirmed it. "The four-star ball is already promised as payment to John. It's not really yours to bargain with."
Santino's expression darkened. Of course Smith knew. The man seemed to know everything relevant to these Dragon Balls, which meant he probably had his own sources watching John Wick's activities.
But Santino's mind was already calculating new angles. Once John completed the assassination, there would be a handoff. And at that handoff, if something unfortunate happened to John before he could deliver the ball to Smith...
"When I obtain another Dragon Balls," Santino said carefully, "I expect you to honor this arrangement and explain their purpose."
Smith nodded once. "Agreed."
If you're still alive by then, Smith thought but didn't say.
After Santino left the Continental, he immediately began mobilizing resources. Half his people started searching for any information about Dragon Balls, online marketplaces, private collectors, underground auction houses. The other half began putting out feelers for similar orange balls with stars inside them.
If these objects were valuable enough to warrant blood oaths, Santino wanted as many as he could get.
Rome - Three Days Later
John Wick had been preparing for the assassination with his usual meticulous care. Target assessment, escape routes, contingency plans. And through it all, he'd been aware of Ares shadowing him, Santino's mute enforcer, observing his every move.
She was good. Professional. But John had decades of experience spotting tails.
The coronation went exactly as planned. Gianna D'Antonio died in her bath, a bullet through her brain, before her ceremony could even begin. John had given her the choice, die by his hand quickly, or wait for Santino's less merciful options. She'd chosen the gun.
John's escape took him through the catacombs beneath Rome, the ancient tunnels that stretched beneath the city like a stone labyrinth.
That's where Ares was waiting.
She stepped out of the shadows in the narrow passage, blocking his path. In her hand, she held an orange balls with four red stars, the Dragon Ball Santino had promised him.
Ares held up the ball, then signed in ASL: Santino sent me to deliver your payment. But he has a question.
John stopped several feet away, his hand resting near his concealed weapon. He took the four-star ball and tucked it into his suit's inner pocket. "What question?"
Do you have another one with you?
John's expression went flat and cold. "So you're not here to deliver payment. You're here to clean up loose ends."
The moment the words left his mouth, four armed men emerged from alcoves in the catacomb walls, Santino's backup team, weapons already raised.
John moved.
His suit, the Continental's latest design using fluid-dispersing bulletproof fabric, absorbed the first volley of shots. The bullets hit him center mass but couldn't penetrate the specialized weave. No added weight, full mobility, complete protection.
John drew his weapon mid-roll and returned fire. Two men dropped before they could adjust their aim.
He ran, trading shots with Ares and her remaining men as he navigated the twisting catacombs. Behind him, he could hear more pursuers, Gianna's loyal soldiers, coming to avenge their mistress.
Caught between two forces, both wanting him dead, John did what he did best: he disappeared into chaos and left bodies in his wake.
By the time he reached the surface and commandeered a car, thirty men were dead in the tunnels below Rome.
New York
Smith felt the shift in his Dragon Ball sense, two coming together, both in John Wick's possession now. The four-star ball had joined the one-star ball John already owned.
Good. That was two of seven.
His phone buzzed, not his personal cell, but the burner phone he'd taken from one of the mob enforcers he'd killed during the Russian cleanup. The device still received Continental network messages.
Smith opened it.
OPEN CONTRACT
Target: John Wick
Bounty: $7,000,000
Bonus: Retrieve two objects in target's possession - Additional $2,000,000
Attached were photos of the Dragon Ball.
Smith set the phone down slowly, processing the implications.
So Santino had betrayed John immediately after the assassination was complete. His men had failed to retrieve the Dragon Balls in Rome, which meant Santino had escalated to an open contract, a public bounty that would be delivered to every registered killer in the Continental network.
John Wick's market value had skyrocketed. He'd gone from a $2,000,000 contract during the Russian mob incident to $7,000,000 now. Add in the Dragon Ball bonus, and assassins would be crawling out of the woodwork for a chance at $9,000,000.
But this wasn't just a normal high-value contract. This was an open contract, the Continental equivalent of a public manhunt. Every killer in New York would receive the notification directly. No need to check mission boards or contact handlers. The contract would find them.
Santino must have used his new authority as a High Table member to authorize it. Normal contracts went through proper channels, available on a first-come, first-served basis. Open contracts were reserved for targets the High Table wanted dead immediately.
This was going to be messy.
Smith was preparing to head out when Fox entered his office, tablet in hand.
"GOD, your John Wick is on another bounty. This time it's an open contract, $9,000,000 total, with $2,000,000 specifically for the two Dragon Balls." She shook her head in amazement. "His value is rising faster than cryptocurrency. But I'm not sure he'll survive this one. Every killer in the city will be after him."
Smith stood and reached for his jacket. "Have faith in our investment. Anyone who earns the title 'Baba Yaga' in the killer community doesn't die easily."
He checked his weapons out of habit. "Besides, John has the strongest motivation possible: bringing his wife back from the dead. Men with nothing to lose are dangerous. Men with everything to gain are unstoppable."
Fox considered that. "Fair point. What's our next move?"
"We're going to the Continental Hotel," Smith said with a slight smile. "I want to watch this play out. And I need to have a conversation with Winston about the rules."
The Continental Hotel
Charon's professional smile became slightly strained when Smith and Fox walked through the entrance. "Mr. Doyle, Ms. Fox, always a pleasure to see you both again."
Smith nodded politely. "Good to see you too, Charon. Is Manager Winston available?"
Charon's internal alarm bells were ringing. He made a mental note to never, ever leave the safety of the Continental's neutral grounds. Whatever Smith Doyle was involved in, Charon wanted no part of it outside these protected walls.
"Let me check for you, sir." He picked up the phone and dialed Winston's extension. "Sir, Mr. Smith Doyle and Ms. Fox are here to see you."
Brief pause, then Winston's response.
"The manager is in the hotel's dining area," Charon said, hanging up. "He's expecting you."
"Thank you, Charon."
Smith and Fox descended to the lower level where the main dining room was located. Winston sat at his usual table, newspaper spread before him, reading glasses perched on his nose.
Smith walked over and sat down without waiting for an invitation. Fox took the seat beside him.
Winston folded his newspaper precisely in half and set it aside, then removed his glasses and fixed Smith with a measuring look.
"Smith. I assume you're here about Jonathan's situation?"
"Santino D'Antonio is remarkably treacherous," Smith said, his tone conversational but his eyes hard. "John fulfilled his blood oath contract, completed an impossible assassination, and Santino immediately placed a $7,000,000 bounty on his head. Plus an additional $2,000,000 for certain items in John's possession."
Smith leaned forward slightly. "More importantly, if John dies, the blood oath marker he gave me becomes worthless. I have a vested interest in keeping him alive."
Winston allowed himself a small smile. There's the real reason, he thought. The last part was what Smith actually cared about, protecting his investment.
"Issuing a bounty is the right of every Continental Hotel member," Winston said, his tone carefully neutral. "Santino D'Antonio has inherited his family's position and claimed one of the twelve seats at the High Table. As an Elder, he has certain privileges, including authorizing open contracts."
He steepled his fingers. "Additionally, Gianna D'Antonio was a sitting member of the High Table when John killed her. That's not just murder, it's regicide in our world. John will be held accountable for that, regardless of his reasons."