The bald man walked alongside John through the narrow streets, his tone conversational. "Mr. Wick, it's been quite some time since you've graced our city with your presence."
John glanced at him. "I need to see, "
"Ms. Al-Azwar. Yes, I'm aware. She's expecting you."
They arrived at the Continental's entrance, an unassuming door that opened into a courtyard alive with activity. Guests mingled beneath strings of lanterns, champagne glasses catching the light. The atmosphere was festive, celebratory, completely at odds with the violence John had just survived.
"Welcome to the Casablanca Continental, Mr. Wick. I do hope you find it to your liking."
The bald man guided him through the crowd and into the hotel proper. "This way. Ms. Al-Azwar doesn't wait for anyone."
They climbed a set of stairs and stopped outside a private suite. The bald man opened the door and stepped aside.
"Good luck, Mr. Wick." He paused, his smile growing more pointed. "Truly. Good luck."
The emphasis on the second wish made John's instincts prickle with warning. The bald man closed the door behind him.
The suite's main room was empty. John took several cautious steps inside, his eyes adjusting to the dimmer lighting. A round table near the window held scattered photographs, personal, not decorative. He picked up a small frame.
The photo showed Sofia with a young girl, maybe ten years old. Her daughter. The resemblance was unmistakable, same sharp eyes, same defiant set to the jaw.
A low growl rumbled through the room.
Two Belgian Malinois materialized from the shadows, their lips curled back to expose teeth. The dogs fixed on John with predatory focus, muscles coiled and ready to spring.
Then came the unmistakable sound of a pistol's slide racking home.
"I heard you like dogs, John."
Sofia emerged from the back of the suite, gun raised and steady. She moved with the fluid grace of someone who'd spent decades in combat. As she stepped into the light, John recognized her despite the years.
"Sofia?" He carefully set down the photo frame and raised his hands. "It's good to, "
Bang.
The shot caught him square in the abdomen. The impact drove the air from his lungs and sent him crashing to the floor. Pain exploded across his torso, not the searing agony of penetration, but the bone-deep ache of kinetic energy absorbed by armor.
John gasped for breath, one hand pressed to his stomach. "You can't... kill the bearer... of your marker..."
Sofia approached, gun still aimed at his head. "I didn't kill you. I shot you. There's a difference."
She glanced down at his midsection, noting the lack of blood. "Nice suit."
John took a shuddering breath and shook his jacket. The flattened bullet fell to the floor with a metallic clink, a mushroomed round that should have torn through his organs. The Continental's latest body armor had saved his life, but getting shot at point-blank range still hurt like hell.
"Good to see you too," John managed.
Sofia's expression darkened. "I should blow your head off right now. Do you have any idea what kind of shitstorm you've brought to my door?"
John remained on the floor, moving slowly and deliberately. He reached into his inner jacket pocket.
"Don't." Sofia's gun tracked his hand.
John withdrew not a weapon but a circular metal case, ornate, marked with arcane symbols. The blood oath marker.
Sofia's jaw clenched. "You're excommunicated, John. That marker means nothing now. It's void."
John opened the case carefully, revealing the thumbprint pressed in crimson ink, Sofia's thumbprint, sealed with her blood. He held it up where she could see it clearly.
"This is your blood. Your oath." He stood slowly, never breaking eye contact. "I helped you when you needed it most. Now you honor the debt."
Sofia closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. When she opened them again, the gun had lowered fractionally.
"Sit."
Both Malinois immediately dropped to sitting positions, though their eyes never left John.
John remained standing, still holding the marker.
"I meant you, John." Sofia gestured wearily at the opposite sofa and sank into her own seat.
John sat, finally lowering the marker but keeping it visible on his knee.
Sofia rubbed her temple. "You realize I manage this hotel now, right? I'm not a field operative anymore. I don't go out and put bullets in people's heads." She looked at him with a mixture of frustration and resignation. "So whatever you're planning, I'm not your hitter."
"I'm not asking you to kill anyone."
"Then what?"
John leaned forward. "I need something you have. A Dragon Ball."
Sofia's expression flickered, recognition, calculation. But she didn't confirm or deny. Instead, she shifted topics.
"When I took this position, I made an agreement with the High Table. I follow their rules absolutely. No exceptions." Her voice hardened. "Just letting you through that door could get me killed. But worse than that?"
She picked up the framed photo John had been looking at earlier. "If I make an enemy of the wrong people, someone might go after my daughter. I know what you did to get her out of the life. I'm grateful for that. But I can't risk her safety. Not for anyone. Not even for a marker."
John's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Do you want to know where she is? I could tell you."
"No." Sofia set the photo down forcefully. "I never wanted to know. Because if I knew, I don't think I could stop myself from going to her."
She swallowed hard. "Part of me wants to see her every single day. And every single day, I have to kill that part of myself to keep her safe. Because sometimes..." Her voice cracked slightly. "Sometimes you have to kill what you love."
She looked at the marker lying between them. "That's why I gave you that marker. That's why I'm sitting here now instead of executing you on the spot. And that's why everything is such a goddamn mess."
John picked up the marker, turning it over in his hands. "You reap what you sow."
"Yeah." Sofia's laugh was bitter. "You reap what you sow."
"I just need the Dragon Ball," John said quietly. "Give it to me, and we're square. Your marker is fulfilled. Whatever else I'm involved in, whatever's coming, you're out of it. Completely."