Viggo Tarasov was consumed by a feral rage. He knew exactly who had dismantled his plans, and he let out a guttural snarl: "No one ruins my business and walks away unscathed."
Without another word, Viggo left the warehouse and sped back to his estate. His face was as dark as a storm cloud. Ever since his worthless son had provoked the Boogeyman, nothing had gone right.
His most sensitive files had been reduced to ash, and his men were being slaughtered by the dozen. Ultimately, to save his own skin, he had been forced to compromise and reveal his son's hiding spot. Even though he had stationed a small army there for protection, Viggo had little confidence left. He clung to a sliver of hope, waiting for the one-in-a-million chance that his men might actually kill John Wick.
Time ticked by, agonizingly slow.
Viggo sat in his study, the air thick with tension and cigarette smoke. The ashtray on his desk was overflowing with stubs as he waited for the news that would determine his fate.
The phone rang. Viggo took a deep breath before picking up.
The voice on the other end delivered the news. Viggo froze, then hung up without a word. He took several heavy drags from his cigarette, the embers glowing bright in the dim room.
Then, he picked up the phone again and dialed several numbers in quick succession, barking orders into the receiver.
Meanwhile, having exacted his revenge, John Wick returned to the Continental. As he stepped into the lobby, the concierge, Charon, called out to him.
"Mr. Wick."
John stopped and walked over to the desk. "Yes, Charon?"
Charon produced a set of car keys and slid them across the counter. "Mr. Wick, the management of the Continental wishes to express its deepest apologies for the events of last night. Please accept this as a gesture of our regret."
John glanced at the keys. He didn't refuse. He took them, gave Charon a brief nod of thanks, and headed upstairs.
He stopped at the door of Shiranui Hayate and knocked lightly. When the door opened, Hayate looked at him. "John. Is it finished?"
"Yes," John replied simply. "It's done."
"Then come in. Let's talk."
John stepped inside and took a seat. "Hayate, thank you for your help. You saved my life back there."
John reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold medallion—a Blood Oath Marker. "You mentioned you wanted a marker from me. What exactly do you need me to do?"
"If it's something I can handle now," John continued, "I'd rather just do it and be done with it. You know I've been retired for four years. I'm trying to leave this world behind."
Hayate's expression remained calm and unreadable. "I'll take the marker. I'll contact you when the time comes. For now, there's nothing else I need."
John's face stayed neutral, but inwardly he felt a weight settle in his chest. Whatever Hayate planned for the future wouldn't be simple. Nonetheless, he pressed his thumb to the marker and handed the blood-sealed oath to the young man.
Receiving the marker, Hayate smiled. His mood had improved significantly. He decided to offer one last piece of advice.
"John... did you kill Viggo?"
John looked confused by the question. "My vendetta was with his son. Viggo gave me his location and rescinded the bounty. I have no reason to go after him."
Knowing John had stayed his hand, Hayate leaned back. "Viggo Tarasov is the head of the Russian mob. He isn't the type to let things go. You should be prepared."
"I believe Viggo will honor our agreement," John said, standing up. "But thank you for the warning."
Hayate didn't push it. If John wouldn't listen, there was nothing more to say. As for whether Marcus would survive the coming night? That was in the hands of fate now.
John Wick checked out of the hotel, officially registering the Blood Oath he had given to Hayate with the Continental's records before he left.
Driving a black Dodge provided by the hotel management, John went to meet an old friend. Hayate wasn't the only one who had saved him; Marcus had also watched his back at the hotel.
At their usual meeting spot, Marcus couldn't help but crack a joke. "John, how many times do I have to save you?"
"I'm grateful, Marcus," John replied sincerely.
Marcus studied the man in front of him. "You look like hell."
"I'm retired. This is what retirement looks like."
Marcus sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. "Retired? You still believe in that? You have a new life now. You'll find a way to get back on track."
Marcus patted John on the shoulder. "Go home, John."
He turned and walked away. The conversation ended on a strained note.
What neither Marcus nor John realized was that their entire meeting was being recorded by Perkins, who was lurking in a nearby car. She immediately relayed the footage to Viggo Tarasov.
Back at his estate, Viggo watched the video Perkins sent. His expression grew even more twisted. He hadn't expected that along with the interference from the Ninja, Shiranui Hayate, his own hired gun Marcus had betrayed him.
The sting of betrayal from an employee often burns hotter than the interference of a stranger. If Marcus hadn't intervened, John Wick would be dead, and Viggo's son would still be alive.
Viggo didn't hesitate. He ordered his men to surround Marcus's house. He wanted Marcus to pay the ultimate price for his treason.
Then, he gripped his phone and barked into the line: "And kill that damn Shiranui Hayate."
"I want that Ninja turned into a corpse."
Orders given, Viggo took Perkins and a squad of his most ruthless men and drove toward Marcus's home. He intended to settle the score in the traditional Russian mob way.