Aurelio stood by the bay doors, his hands held out at his sides, palms open to show he posed no threat.
"John, I had no idea they were going to bring your car here," Aurelio said. His voice was low, steady, and entirely sincere, trying to find a sliver of peace before the hurricane made landfall.
Anthony leaned against the brick wall of the garage, casually stroking Helen's head as he observed the impending collision of titans.
To Anthony's mild surprise, Viggo Tarasov hadn't fled. The Russian mob boss was still here, standing defensively between John and the garage exit.
John finally spoke. His voice was eerily calm, devoid of any inflection. "He destroyed my hope."
John stopped inches from the Mustang's grille, not even granting Viggo the dignity of eye contact. "Viggo. I need to see him. You have twenty-four hours."
Viggo stepped forward, his posture tight. "Iosef didn't know it was your car, John. He is a stupid, spoiled boy. I will make amends in any way you can possibly imagine."
Anthony noticed that Viggo's forehead was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. The most feared, ruthless syndicate boss in New York was currently standing in front of John Wick like a schoolboy waiting for a beating.
Viggo took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart.
"John, I swear to you. If you let Iosef live, I will compensate you for every loss. I will deed you territory. I will take him out of New York tonight, and I swear on my life he will never show his face to you again."
"Viggo," Aurelio interjected quietly. "There are some lines that simply cannot be uncrossed. John was out. He was retired. It was your son who personally dragged him back in."
Viggo stared at John's stony profile, a profound despair leaking into his voice.
"I am begging you, John. I have apologized. I have promised you anything you want. What else can I possibly give you?"
John still refused to look at him. "Viggo. He took away the only reason I had left to live."
Watching the scene unfold, Anthony's hands unconsciously curled into tight fists.
He recalled the absolute, hollow despair he had witnessed in the rain last night as John buried the puppy.
He knew John's heart was already dead. The man standing in the tailored suit was merely a ghost, existing solely to balance the scales in blood.
Desperate, Viggo decided to play his final, most dangerous card.
He pulled out his phone, dialed a secure number, spoke a few rapid words in Russian, and held the phone out to John.
"Winston," Viggo said, his voice trembling. "He is on the line. I hope you will at least listen to him."
John took the phone. His expression didn't change a fraction of a millimeter. "Winston. I have been forced back in." He listened for a moment, then replied coldly, "The rules of the High Table are clear. Vengeance for a direct attack on one's home is a personal right."
He hung up and tossed the phone back to Viggo.
Viggo's face was completely drained of color. Winston—the Manager of the New York Continental—had refused to intervene. That meant John's crusade of revenge was officially unsanctioned, but entirely unrestricted.
"So, John," Viggo whispered, his voice dropping to a gravelly rasp. "You truly intend to kill my only son?"
Aurelio shot an astonished glance at Anthony, who was still leaning silently against the wall. Only son?
Anthony shrugged, offering Aurelio a knowing, cynical smirk.
John finally turned his head. He looked at Anthony, his gray eyes narrowing slightly. "You lied to me?"
Anthony laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "I'm sorry, John. My background doesn't exactly allow me to publicly claim the title of his son. Not that I'd want it."
John slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket, pulling back the lapel just enough to reveal the matte-black grip of the HK P30L resting in his shoulder holster.
"Iosef must die. No one can live after invading my home and harming my family," John stated with terrifying calm. "Those are the rules, Viggo. They are the exact rules you taught me."
"John, please!" Viggo pleaded, his syndicate pride completely shattered.
"I am only giving you this warning because we used to be friends," John interrupted, his voice slicing through the air like a razor. "In our world, blood demands blood."
Trying to mediate the impossible, Aurelio asked gently, "John, if Viggo brings Iosef here... if he makes the boy kneel and apologize for what he did to Daisy... is that enough?"
"An apology cannot bring Daisy back to life, Aurelio," John said, slowly shaking his head. "In our world, there is only one kind of apology that can balance these scales. An apology written in blood."
In a final act of utter desperation, Viggo pointed a shaking finger at Anthony. "Take him! He is my son too! You can take his life to settle the debt! And you can take his dog to replace yours!"
Aurelio stared at Viggo in sheer, unadulterated shock, his mouth hanging open. The man was actually trying to trade his illegitimate son's life for his heir's.
John didn't even acknowledge the pathetic offer. He looked down at the beagle sitting loyally by Anthony's boots. "It's a tragedy that Helen lost her sister so soon."
"Actually, we can take care of her together," Anthony said. He unclipped Helen's leash. The puppy immediately trotted over to John, her tail wagging happily as she nuzzled against his polished leather shoes.
John knelt down. His calloused fingers gently stroked Helen's soft ears. For a fleeting second, the ice in his eyes thawed. "When this is over... I hope to see her often."
"You will, John," Anthony said with a faint, genuine smile. "Count on it."
Viggo, seeing John distracted, seized the opening. "John, just give me some time! I will exile him! I will make him disappear so completely he will never cross your path again!"
"I do not want to go to war with you, Viggo," John said, standing back up, the ice returning instantly. "But I need to see him. Twenty-four hours."
"I will hide him in the deepest corner of the earth, John! No one will be able to touch him!" Viggo threatened, pivoting from pleading to posturing.
Viggo's face was a mask of pale terror.
He knew John Wick. He knew this wasn't an empty threat.
Years ago, he had watched this man—with those exact same, eternally calm eyes—single-handedly exterminate the entire Tarasov syndicate's competition in one bloody night.
"You cannot do this to me, John! We used to be brothers!" Viggo's voice was on the verge of total collapse.
"It is precisely because I remember our history that I am giving you the chance to hand him over," John said calmly, turning his back on the mob boss. "I wouldn't waste a single word of warning on a true enemy."
John turned to Aurelio. "Clean up the Mustang. I need a loaner car."
Aurelio nodded immediately. "It's yours, John."
The fact that John was willing to accept a loaner car gave Aurelio a microscopic glimmer of hope. At least the Boogeyman was still capable of accepting professional goodwill, meaning he wasn't completely blinded by indiscriminate rage.
Aurelio stepped close to Viggo, lowering his voice so only the Russian could hear. "You can't run from him, Viggo. He will find the boy, just like he finds everyone else. Your only option to save your empire is to hand Iosef over."
"Do you even hear what you're saying, Aurelio?!" Viggo roared, spittle flying from his lips. "That is my son!"
John remained completely indifferent to the outburst.
Viggo gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching so hard it looked like the bone might snap. Finally, he gave a jerky, reluctant nod. "Give me the time, John. I will... I will bring him to you."
John didn't say another word. He turned and began walking toward the loaner car Aurelio's mechanic had just pulled around.
"Do you actually believe his promise?" Anthony called out casually from the wall.
"I don't care." John paused, glancing back at Anthony. He had clearly expected the lie. "But rules are rules. I gave him the required notice. The High Table cannot accuse me of breaking protocol."
John nodded down at the puppy. "Take good care of Helen. She's a good reminder that there are still things in this world worth protecting."
The second the roar of John's loaner car faded down the street, Viggo pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the keypad.
"Mobilize everyone! Put a full security detail on Iosef and prepare to evacuate him from New York to the safehouse!" He whirled on Aurelio. "I need an armored transport, fully reinforced, prepped right now!"
Aurelio shook his head slowly, backing away. "I'm sorry, Viggo. I can't do that. John would consider it an act of war against him."
"I don't give a fuck what he thinks!" Viggo screamed, completely losing control. "That is my blood! I will not sacrifice my son just to appease the Boogeyman!"
Anthony crossed his arms, letting out a dark, mocking sneer. "Viggo. You're repeating the exact same mistake. You built the Baba Yaga. And now, the Baba Yaga is coming to tear down everything you built."
Viggo spun around, his eyes blazing with pure, homicidal rage. "You little traitor! I should have put a bullet in your head the day you were born, just like I should have done to your whore of a mother!"
Anthony met the threat with an utterly nonchalant shrug. "You probably don't have the spare manpower to deal with me right now, old man. You should be using that time to figure out what kind of coffin to buy for your heir."
Without waiting for a response, Anthony whistled sharply. Helen trotted to his side. He grabbed her leash and walked out of the garage without looking back.
He knew exactly what Viggo was going to do next. The Russian boss would assemble a twelve-man hit squad and send them to John's house tonight to kill the Boogeyman before he could gear up.
How could Anthony possibly pass up the chance to watch that beautiful massacre unfold?