John Wick - Chapter 37: John Wick (Patreon)

Winston set the bottle down, producing a soft clink as it touched the tabletop.

“Before you arrived, I executed two assassins who broke the rules,” Winston said. “Want to know who they were?”

John remained silent. He simply took another sip of bourbon.

As though he had expected that response, Winston continued on his own.

“One of them was Perkins. You should remember her.”

John said nothing, but his hand paused slightly.

“Looks like you do.”

“This assassination bypassed the High Table's bounty system entirely. They hired assassins directly and sent them into the Continental.”

“Just to kill him.”

Winston pointed toward Henry.

John looked over. His gaze rested on Henry's face for a moment before he finally spoke.

“Mr. Wang?”

“I may be retired, but I've certainly heard plenty about you.” Henry smiled and raised his glass toward John.

“Winston has mentioned you more than once.”

John raised his own glass and gave Henry a slight nod.

Winston watched the two men before continuing.

“Killing outside the rules. Something like this has never happened before.” Winston's voice dropped low. “They killed Judy. They killed someone here, inside my hotel, on my ground.”

His voice remained even, perhaps even calmer than before, but it gradually grew louder.

Beneath that calm was blazing fury.

“The rules have been broken.”

Winston made a gesture, as though indicating the foundation of a building crumbling away.

“Once the rules are broken, there's no going back.”

“If they can ignore the rules they created and kill someone here today, then this profession has lost the last shred of order it had left.”

Winston leaned forward, planting both hands on the table as he looked directly at John.

“I need your help, Jonathan.”

“No,” John said.

“I only kill the people I intend to kill.”

“You kill Viggo's son, and you think Viggo will simply let it go?” Winston's voice took on a patient edge, like an elder reasoning with someone stubborn. “You really think you'll be able to stop afterward?”

He paused.

“And don't forget who holds your blood Marker.”

John's brow tightened.

His fingers closed around the rim of his glass until his knuckles whitened.

Five years ago.

That impossible task.

That promise sealed in blood.

John had left the assassin world for Helen, personally burying his own past.

Now Winston had dragged that past back onto the table.

But John didn't lash out.

He simply took another drink.

The alcohol seemed to melt the ice in his eyes ever so slightly, revealing not anger, but exhaustion.

For the first time in a long while, he spoke more than a few words at once.

His voice was quiet.

“I'm tired, Winston.”

“That's why I should go alone.”

Winston stared at him for a long time.

It looked less like contemplation and more like he was confirming something he already knew.

Then he nodded.

“All right.”

He didn't try to persuade him again.

Nate listened from nearby, fully aware that the two men hadn't actually reached an agreement.

Winston wanted an ally.

John only wanted information.

Winston wanted to overturn the entire table.

John only wanted to kill one man.

Their goals happened to overlap, but they weren't walking the same path.

Even so, Winston would still give him the information.

He knew he couldn't stop John.

Maybe, in some way, he respected the sheer determination it took to go alone.

Or perhaps the years between them reminded Winston of something.

Decades ago, maybe he had been the same kind of man.

Henry finished his cigarette and crushed the butt into the ashtray.

A faint hiss came from the dying ember.

Nate glanced over and noticed that Henry had been watching John the entire time.

His expression was difficult to read.

Admiration, perhaps.

Or regret.

John stood.

This time, Winston didn't stop him.

“Red Circle. Brooklyn docks, District Four.” Winston finished the last of his bourbon. “Second basement level. He'll be spending the night there.”

“There'll be plenty of guards, including some capable ones. Be careful.”

John gave a tiny nod.

The movement was almost imperceptible, but it was there.

He turned away from the booth and headed toward the exit.

When he passed Nate, less than half a meter separated them.

John didn't slow down.

His black silhouette blended into the shadows of the corridor, growing dimmer until the bend in the staircase swallowed him completely.

Silence lingered for several seconds.

Henry lit another cigarette.

The lighter clicked, and the flame briefly illuminated his face, revealing an expression Nate still couldn't quite decipher.

“Think he'll join us?” Henry asked.

Winston remained silent, staring at the seat John had just vacated.

The empty glass remained on the table, a thin ring of amber bourbon left at the bottom.

“I knew the moment he asked for information at the front desk that this conversation wasn't going anywhere.”

“Then why ask?”

Winston didn't answer directly.

He picked up John's glass and placed it beside his own.

Under the dim lighting, the two empty glasses looked like miniature gravestones.

“He needed to know,” Winston said. “There are still people in this world he can trust.”

Henry took a drag from his cigarette and slowly exhaled.

Smoke curled through the amber light, softening the lines of his face.

Nate pulled out his phone and looked toward the direction John had disappeared.

A bounty was displayed on the screen.

Contract Number: NY-2021-08112

Target: John Wick

Bounty Type: Open Contract

Bounty: $2,000,000

Contract Status: Active

Issuer: Viggo Tarasov

The story had officially begun.

Nate's heart had been pounding ever since John appeared, but now it gradually settled.

He had seen many kinds of anger.

In movies.

In real life.

The screaming, hysterical kind.

But John Wick's anger belonged to none of them.

It was a double-edged blade.

One edge pointed at himself.

The other pointed at the world.

His revenge wasn't about venting his rage.

It was more like a ritual.

A way of mourning his dead wife.

An unexpected ache rose in Nate's chest.

He knew how this story unfolded.

He knew how it ended.

And because he knew, he wanted to do something.

He glanced at the system interface.

The Copy Card was still sitting there unused.

Copying a Trait caused that warm current to flow through his body, so to be safe, he would need to find somewhere private before using it.

John had rejected Winston's proposal.

He had no interest in Winston's war with the High Table either.

Right now, only one thing existed in John's world.

Find Viggo's son.

Kill him.

And after that?

He would probably return alone to that empty house, wait for Viggo's men to blast it apart with grenades, and then go kill an old friend.

Nate took a deep breath.

Winston noticed the change in his expression and smiled.

“What is it, young man? Aren't you going to introduce yourself?”

Nate pressed his lips together and ignored the joke.

He looked directly at Winston, his voice far more serious than usual.

“He shouldn't go alone.”

Winston's smile disappeared.

That scrutinizing look returned to his eyes.

He studied Nate carefully.

Half a minute later, Winston rose from his chair.

He smiled and gave Nate a firm pat on the shoulder.

“Do what you want to do.”

Nate immediately headed for the exit.

Winston's voice followed him from behind.

“When the two of you come back, I think he'll have changed his mind.”

Henry stubbed out his cigarette and stood, rolling his neck.

The simple movement somehow made him look several years younger, like an old veteran preparing to step back onto the battlefield.

He walked over to Winston, leaned closer, and spoke quietly enough that only the two of them could hear.

“Don't worry about him. How many people do you have available right now?”

Winston smiled.

“Come on. Let's go see.”