Time passed quietly. More than a year had gone by.
When the originally agreed five-year deadline ended, Viggo—who had been worrying for half a year—felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders when no call came from John Wick on the expected day.
After three days of happiness and confusion, Viggo even proactively called John Wick and invited him out for a round of golf.
These two former deadly enemies, after five years of bloodshed, unexpectedly found some strange harmony between them.
With no more financial disputes, they played a pleasant game, laughing and joking, even agreeing to meet every year on the same day to commemorate their uneasy truce.
So, when Viggo believed he would never again cross paths with John Wick, the news from his brother Abram hit him like a truck—
—His good-for-nothing son, Iosef, had ambushed and attacked Wick, stolen his car, and killed his dog.
The turmoil in Viggo's heart was beyond words.
Snapping out of his daze, Viggo left the penthouse terrace.
When he came downstairs and once again saw his bruised, swollen-faced son, his brief flicker of parental pity quickly twisted into fury and despair.
As much as he despised Iosef, he was still his only son—his only bloodline.
Could he really just stand by and watch him get killed?
"Father," Iosef said timidly, seeing the dark expression on Viggo's face,
"Will Uncle Abram apologize to me?"
"Apologize?"
Viggo let out a chilling laugh, walked over to the liquor cabinet, and poured two glasses of vodka—one for Iosef, one for the tall thug.
As they naively believed the storm had passed, Viggo picked up his phone and made a call.
Within moments, a tall, impeccably dressed man with slicked-back hair knocked and entered.
"Boss," the man greeted.
"Randall," Viggo said with a grin, pointing at the tall thug,
"Could you do me a favor and get rid of this idiot?"
Randall chuckled softly and nodded, strolling toward the thug.
The thug panicked and hurled his vodka glass, but Randall casually caught it.
Before the thug could grab Iosef as a hostage, Randall smashed the glass back into his forehead.
Bang!
As the stunned thug fell, Randall smoothly stepped on his neck.
Crunch.
Sitting on the floor in terror, Iosef watched as Randall brushed off his suit like nothing had happened.
Viggo yanked Iosef to his feet by his hair—and punched him hard in the gut.
Cough, cough, cough!
Doubling over in pain, Iosef crumpled to his knees, coughing violently.
Viggo, having vented some of his rage, poured another glass of vodka for Randall and handed it to him.
"No worries, my friend. I've been boxing for over a decade," he joked bitterly.
Randall just smiled faintly and silently sipped his drink.
Satisfied, Viggo turned back to his son.
When Iosef finally stopped coughing, Viggo tossed a towel at him.
"Clean the floor."
Too terrified to disobey, Iosef quickly wiped up the mess, then knelt obediently, looking up at his father with pleading eyes.
Seeing this, Viggo sighed heavily.
"Do you know why I hit you?"
"Be-because I offended someone I shouldn't have?" Iosef stammered.
"That's part of it," Viggo said, grabbing Iosef by the hair again and punching him across the face.
"But the real reason is—"
"You ambushed John Wick. Fine. But you left him alive."
"If you had killed him cleanly—one strike, done—it would have been messy, sure.
I would've had to pay a few hundred million, maybe even a billion, to his boss as compensation.
Maybe that would've kept you alive—and maybe even gotten me a meeting with his real backer."
"But now?" Viggo's face twisted with fear and helplessness.
"Now John Wick will come for you. And believe me—I've fought him for five years.
I know what's coming."
"But father," Iosef protested,
"He's just a rich guy! We hit him in the head! Then we beat him dozens of times with bats! When we left, he was barely breathing!
Even if someone saved him, he couldn't possibly recover so fast!"
Viggo stared at him, then turned to Randall.
Randall hesitated, then said,
"Before, when I met Wick, he seemed like a normal human."
But Viggo, having faced John Wick's wrath so many times, was now convinced Wick wasn't normal at all—he was something else, something dangerous.
To be sure, Viggo pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
Ring. Ring.
The line connected.
"Hello, John. I just heard about your wife.
My condolences, my friend."
"Thank you," Wick's cold voice came through the phone.
Hearing that familiar, bone-chilling voice, Viggo's heart sank.
Waiting a few seconds and hearing only silence, Viggo gritted his teeth and said,
"I apologize for Iosef's actions. Can we meet to talk?"
Ten seconds of dead silence.
Viggo's anxiety climbed until he could barely breathe.
He tried one last time, voice trembling,
"You know I only have one son, John.
Aside from killing him, anything else you ask, I will agree to."
Click.
The line went dead.
Standing frozen with the phone in hand, Viggo stormed toward Iosef and began punching and kicking him in a rage.
Even after several blows and hearing Iosef's pitiful screams, Viggo's fury didn't abate.
But in the end, he still couldn't bring himself to kill his own son.
"Randall," he gasped,
"Get your people ready."
"How many?"
"Everyone you've got. No mistakes allowed."
Randall wanted to argue that it was overkill—but since Viggo paid per head, why bother saving him money?
"Understood, Boss. I'll gather them now. We'll hit John Wick's house directly."
After Randall left, Viggo called his own guards to take Iosef back to the headquarters—and ordered them not to let him leave under any circumstances.
Meanwhile, back at home, John Wick returned to his house.
Walking into the living room, he found a brand-new suit and an alloy weapons case neatly laid out on the long table.
"Mr. Wick," Sunday's voice chimed,
"These are gifts from Mr. Devonshire. He also requests that once you settle your affairs in New York, you call him."
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
• Every 100 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.• Every 5 reviews = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.