John Wick took the photo, nodded, and said,
"I'll retrieve the Dragon Pearl from her."
After a brief moment of thought, he added with some hesitation,
"I have a few friends… If we're going up against the High Table, they might be willing to lend a hand."
Smith Doyle wasn't surprised. A legendary assassin like John Wick was bound to have reliable allies—people who might even resent the High Table's rule.
"I'm glad you're thinking ahead," Doyle said, "but we don't have much time to gather support."
"We launch the assault as soon as we locate the Elder hiding in Casablanca."
"Afterward, reach out to those you trust. Either start a counterattack, or help them break away."
John nodded firmly.
"Understood."
Doyle thought for a moment, then added,
"Once you've got the Dragon Pearl, head straight into the desert outside Casablanca."
"Then look up at the sky. Find Canis Minor—it follows Orion. Track the brightest star."
"Walk toward it until you're nearly dead. Then keep walking. When you're down to your last breath, he'll come to you… or he won't."
"It all depends on your luck."
"I'll have Wesley arrange transport through our channels."
---
Meanwhile—
The Bowery King was at his headquarters when Aella approached.
"A High Table Adjudicator wants to see you," she said.
The Bowery King exhaled heavily. So, they sent an Adjudicator... Is it because I gave John Wick that gun?
He glanced at his men. One of them must've reported it.
He took his umbrella and headed to the rooftop aviary to await the visitor.
Soon, Aella returned, this time with the Adjudicator in tow.
The Bowery King greeted her with a grin.
"Welcome to my mission control, my intelligence hub, my global network."
"I speak the language of the streets—and of the world."
The Adjudicator looked around, puzzled.
"With pigeons?"
The King chuckled, glancing at the birds.
"You see flying rats. I see the internet."
"With no IP addresses, no digital footprints. You can't trace them, hack them, or block them."
The Adjudicator smirked.
"Do they give you diseases?"
The Bowery King's smug look vanished.
"I wouldn't recommend eating them."
Sizing her up, he asked,
"So, what do you want?"
The Adjudicator lifted her chin with icy arrogance.
"I want to see where it didn't happen."
"Where what didn't happen?"
She replied slowly and clearly,
"Where you didn't kill John Wick."
His expression darkened.
"I always thought contracts were optional. I stand by what I did."
The Adjudicator handed her umbrella to Aella and pulled a pistol from her bag.
"You gave John Wick a Kimber 1911 with seven rounds—knowing full well he'd use it against the High Table."
She held the weapon up for him to see.
"This exact gun."
Then, putting it away, she stepped closer and said,
"You gave him seven bullets."
"The High Table gives you seven days."
The Bowery King narrowed his eyes.
"Seven days for what, exactly?"
"To get your affairs in order," she replied coldly. "And to find new homes for your birds."
"In seven days, you abdicate."
The Bowery King suddenly burst into laughter.
"Ha… ha… ha!"
His laughter built until he hurled his umbrella aside.
"Oh sweetheart, do you even know what the Bowery is?"
"Do you know what happens when I so much as wave my hand?"
He demonstrated with a flick of the wrist.
"No one can take my place."
"Because I am the throne, baby."
"I am the Bowery."
He glared at her.
"I'm everything you hope to avoid when walking alone at night."
"This is my domain. Mine alone."
The Adjudicator didn't flinch.
"Don't make the mistake of thinking you're above the rules. No one is."
"You have seven days."
And with that, she turned and left the rooftop—on to her next target.
---
Elsewhere—
Winston knew he couldn't afford to sit idle. If he didn't want to lose his position as manager of the Continental, his options were limited.
Unless he gained the Elder's support, the High Table's wrath would soon catch up to him. But he had no access to the Elder—not even as the manager of the New York Continental.
That left only one risky play: turn the High Table's wrath toward the Assassin's Guild.
Unlike John Wick, the Continental operated under strict protocol. The Guild wasn't likely to welcome someone like him. And even if they did, without the rules, the Continental would lose its entire foundation.
So instead, he'd stir trouble—redirect the High Table's attention toward the Guild.
If they were preoccupied, he might have enough time to maneuver behind the scenes and escape punishment.
With a plan forming, Winston picked up the phone and dialed Smith Doyle.
As soon as the call connected, he said,
"Mr. Doyle, this is Winston."
Doyle sounded surprised.
"What's the matter, Winston?"
"The Adjudicator has arrived in New York," Winston explained.
"She'll soon find out you're the one who sheltered John Wick."
"They'll come knocking. Be ready."
And with that, he hung up and walked straight toward Room 217—where the Adjudicator was staying.
—End of chapter—
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