With the battle on the third floor coming to an end, the fifteen Lighthouse killers standing guard at the stairwell from the first to the second floor did not withdraw.
Instead, they swung into the second-floor corridor.
By Alex Cross's command, they were to support Caine and John Wick — clearing out the second-floor enforcers quickly so they would have time to rest.
At that moment, in the left-side corridor of the second floor, Caine's fight was still raging.
Two corpses crashed into the group, knocking four nearby enforcers off their feet.
Before the survivors behind them could even raise their weapons, Caine had already pulled the trigger.
Ratatatat!
Ratatatat!
Bullets tore from his assault rifle, sweeping across the corridor.
At such close range, the four fallen enforcers were shredded instantly.
The magazine clicked empty.
He tossed the rifle aside, yanked out a submachine gun from his waist, and stepped forward.
One stride, closing in.
Sword strike — throat sealed.
His left hand squeezed the trigger.
Ratatat!
Another kill.
He spun, two quick steps, thrusting the cane-sword forward again — piercing through the third enforcer's throat.
Gun raised.
Bang-bang!
The last man dropped.
Another six-man enforcer squad wiped out.
No chance to breathe.
Ratatatat!
A hail of bullets tore toward him.
Caine yanked his bulletproof suit up to shield his head, retreating back behind the corner, pressing flat against the wall.
He inhaled deeply, counting in his heart.
"3… 2… 1!"
His cane-sword stabbed low and right — spearing through the thigh of a pursuing enforcer.
The man howled in pain, shotgun clattering to the ground.
Caine hooked it with his foot, holstered his SMG, and caught the shotgun.
He raised it—
BOOM!
One blast dropped the second charging enforcer.
Releasing the cane-sword, he pumped the shotgun, stepped sideways, and fired again.
BOOM!
Another kill.
He drew his SMG once more, firing two quick rounds.
The man with the pierced thigh collapsed, finished.
Reload.
Spin around the corner again, charging at the last three.
BOOM!
Another shotgun blast cut one down.
He raised his suit again, blocking his head.
The cane-sword flashed, slicing through the wrist of a man mid-trigger pull, severing his hand completely.
A spinning kick snapped another's jaw.
Two shots — bang-bang — ended him.
The last survivor had his throat slashed clean open.
Finally, Caine had a moment to press his ribs, where a bullet had grazed him earlier, and lean against the wall for breath.
But respite never lasts.
The three squads of enforcers left behind as second-wave support were already closing in.
Tactical flashlights swept through the dark hallway, drawing nearer.
Caine's facial muscles twitched involuntarily.
Resigned, he pushed himself upright, ready to fall back into ambush—
When suddenly, gunfire erupted from behind the enforcer squads.
Ratatatat!
Ratatatat!
The ambush cut down the rear ranks instantly.
The surviving dozen enforcers spun to return fire.
Caine instantly understood — Alex Cross must have dispatched the Lighthouse killers to support him and John Wick.
Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he grabbed an assault rifle from the floor, scavenged two magazines from a corpse, switched off his flashlight, and crept close.
Gun raised.
Ratatatat!
Ratatatat!
Bullets raked into the enforcers' exposed backs.
Three dropped in an instant.
Caught in a deadly pincer, the squads' fate was sealed.
Five minutes later, the fighting was done.
Three full squads wiped out.
Of the fifteen Lighthouse reinforcements, four were dead, three wounded.
The injured withdrew to the underground training base, where prepared medicinal baths awaited them.
The remaining eight pressed forward to John Wick's position.
Caine considered briefly, then followed them.
Meanwhile, John Wick had fallen back into the restaurant, crouched behind the bar counter.
Two full enforcer squads pressed close behind.
Hunched low, using the bar as cover, Wick unleashed a flurry of rapid fire.
Bang-bang!
Bang-bang!
Each shot precise, each round hitting home — enforcers screamed, staggered, and fell.
One after another dropped, unable to retaliate under the pain.
Wick didn't rush forward to finish them.
After dropping four, he kept his rifle braced, moving deliberately, suppressing the enforcers still pressing in while watching the fallen.
The instant one tried to lift his weapon again, Wick dipped his rifle and put another round into him.
Bang-bang.
When the magazine finally clicked empty, he reloaded with practiced calm.
Only then did he stride out from behind the bar, advancing on the fallen enforcers without hesitation.
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