Sofia looked at the blood oath contract John Wick had just pushed over and slid it right back to him.
"No. We're done here."
It was clear she wasn't trying to settle accounts—she was cutting ties for good. No more favors, no more debts, no more friendship.
John Wick remained silent for a couple of seconds. He didn't try to argue. He understood—this was her decision.
He didn't have many friends to begin with, and even fewer he could trust with his life. Now, he had one less.
On the table between them sat a small, elegant box. Sofia picked it up, opened it, and inside, nestled in a yellow cloth, was the two-star Dragon Ball.
She glanced down at it, then turned the box to face John.
"This is what you're after?"
John looked at the orb and nodded.
"The Two-Star Ball. I didn't expect you to have this one."
Sofia raised a brow.
"Two-Star Ball? So the name comes from the stars inside, huh."
She eyed the Dragon Ball thoughtfully.
"And if you're willing to trade a blood oath for it, then this thing must be hiding some serious secrets."
John didn't respond, which only confirmed her suspicions. She gently pushed the box toward him.
John picked it up and carefully lifted the Dragon Ball, examining it. It looked exactly like the others he'd seen.
"Yeah. This is what I came for."
Sofia watched him for a moment, then asked,
"Now that you've got it, can you tell me what it actually does? Just to satisfy my curiosity."
John met her gaze, inhaled slowly, and said,
"Sofia… it's not that I don't want to tell you. It's that knowing could put your life in danger. Real danger."
Sofia could tell he wasn't lying. But what kind of secret could be that deadly?
John had reason to believe that if Sofia learned the truth behind the Dragon Balls, she'd come under the scrutiny of the Assassin's League. And if she failed whatever "test" they imposed, she wouldn't live to see another day. Not to mention the enemies that would come after both of them.
"Sofia."
She blinked. "What?"
John's voice dropped lower.
"What's your wish?"
She hesitated, confused by the question, but eventually answered,
"I want my daughter to be safe. That's all I've ever wanted."
John already knew this. He had helped her get her daughter out. But he also knew that if Sofia ever tried to reunite with her, the High Table would catch wind of it—and they were the true threat to her daughter's safety.
Thinking of the League's current movements, John said quietly,
"I believe your wish will come true soon. Very soon."
With that, John opened the blood oath marker, pricked his finger, and pressed his bloody fingerprint into the second half of the medallion.
He snapped it shut, handed it back to Sofia, then tucked the Dragon Ball into his suit pocket and walked away.
Sofia didn't get up. She stayed rooted in place, playing his words over and over in her mind. She knew who the real threat was.
Her face darkened.
What kind of confidence did John have to say something like that… against the High Table?
---
New York.
Inside the Belarusian theater, The Director watched her performers rehearse. Suddenly, Zero and his apprentices burst in, blades drawn.
They used only silent weapons and struck from the shadows. The Director didn't sense a thing—until they emerged from backstage.
Standing on stage, Zero and his disciples drew everyone's attention.
The Director raised a hand.
"Stop!"
The music halted. From behind her, the Adjudicator stepped forward and approached.
The Director turned to her and said to her staff:
"Clear the stage."
The dancers quickly exited, leaving only a few figures behind.
The Director sat down on a chair at center stage.
"There is an understanding between the High Table and the Ruska Roma," she stated calmly.
The Adjudicator didn't flinch.
"There is. But you helped John Wick."
The Director met her eyes.
"He had a ticket. He cashed it in."
"But a ticket does not override the authority of the High Table," the Adjudicator replied coldly. "Your betrayal must be paid for in blood."
"Now—extend your hand. Swear your loyalty."
The Director knew she had no choice. Refusing the High Table wasn't an option.
She stood up, pressed her hands together, and offered them forward.
"I have served the High Table. And I will continue to serve."
Without a word, Zero drove a short blade through her clasped hands.
*SHUNK*
Blood spilled instantly.
The Adjudicator looked down at the wound, then turned and left with her entourage.
---
John Wick exited the Continental and stole a car, heading straight for the desert's edge.
He drove through the night. As the sun rose, he finally reached his destination.
Stepping out of the jeep, he glanced up at the sun and began walking into the endless dunes.
---
Three days later.
New York.
Rain poured down in sheets.
The Bowery King sat in his "internet hub," soaked to the bone. A pigeon nestled in his arms as he silently petted it. Around him, the Adjudicator's men stood like statues, watching every move.
Below, in the tunnels of his base, a massacre was underway.
Zero and his apprentices carved through the Bowery King's people with ruthless precision. It was a slaughter—none of his men could even put up a fight.
Whether they fought with blades or bullets, it made no difference. Nothing stopped Zero's team. When the bloodshed finally ceased, there was no one left.
On the rooftop, the Bowery King saw the Adjudicator approaching with an umbrella in hand. He rose and walked to meet her.
"Well," he said, voice heavy with resignation, "you've made your point. You've got my loyalty now."
He hadn't sat idle during these seven days—he'd tried to fight back. But no one dared challenge the High Table for him. No one broke the rules.
And he didn't have the connections to reach the Elder. In the end, he had no choice but to submit.
—End of Chapter—
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