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Chapter 56: You Hit Me
New York. Private Museum.
"What did you say? What do you mean John Wick can't be found?" Santino was furious, listening to his subordinate's anxious report over the phone.
It had been a full day since he put out the bounty. During this day, the Continental Hotel sent out several waves of assassins to eliminate John Wick, but no one was able to succeed. Instead, bad news kept coming, one after another, reaching his ears. First, almost all the assassins he brought to New York were dead; even his most trusted man, Ares, was not spared. Then, John Wick, with only minor injuries, broke through the encirclement and escaped alive. Now, there was no news of him at all. A perfectly healthy living person had just vanished into thin air.
This terrible outcome was unbearable for Santino. "Useless! All of them are useless!" Santino slammed his phone to the ground, raging in impotent fury.
If John Wick was still alive and well, then he was in serious trouble. He was the one who first hired the assassin and then immediately turned around and betrayed him. Such fickle behavior was intolerable to anyone, let alone that ruthless "Baba Yaga."
"No, I can't stay here anymore." Picking up his phone from the ground, Santino felt a deep, cold unease. Most of the people he brought to New York had died at John Wick's hands. Fewer than ten remained alive by his side. With so few people, it was clearly not enough to protect him; staying in the museum was just waiting for death.
"I need to move to a safer place immediately." Santino had no intention of returning to Italy; that journey was too long, too prone to accidents. If John Wick caught him on the plane, he wouldn't be able to escape. Since he couldn't go home, he could only find one other safe haven. Looking across all of New York, it seemed only one place could ensure his safety from the Baba Yaga. Thinking of this, Santino immediately set off, rushing to leave the museum before John Wick could arrive, and hurried toward the Continental Hotel, escorted by his small group of remaining bodyguards.
However, what he didn't know was that his desperate scheme had long been foreseen. The Continental Hotel would not only fail to protect his life but would instead become his burial ground, the final stop in his life.
Continental Hotel.
Escorted by his desperate bodyguards, Santino successfully arrived. All the way, he was on tenterhooks, unable to sit still, terrified that at some intersection, John Wick would suddenly appear with a pistol. Fortunately, the journey was smooth, and his fears did not come true, allowing him to successfully reach the Continental Hotel, ostensibly the safest place in New York City.
"Winston!" As soon as he stepped into the lavish lobby, an enraged Santino loudly called out the hotel manager's name.
He certainly had reason to be angry. If the Continental Hotel's assassins hadn't been so useless, failing to kill John Wick, how could he be so disheveled, fleeing here like a stray dog?
"Winston, you owe me an explanation. And, you must immediately revoke John Wick's membership. From this day forward, all assassin organizations, including your Continental Hotel, are no longer permitted to service John Wick."
Santino was arrogant. With Gianna apparently dead, the High Table seat automatically fell to him, so he naturally assumed he had the absolute right to issue orders to Winston, the hotel manager.
However, after he spoke for a long time, Winston showed no reaction, merely sitting there quietly reading his newspaper. After a long while, he finally pretended to just notice Santino, looking up blankly.
"Ah, Mr. Antonio, my apologies, I'm getting old, and my ears aren't what they used to be. What did you just say? Could you repeat it so I can hear clearly?" Winston said, even reaching out to adjust his glasses, perfectly putting on an act of being old and dim-sighted.
Santino, of course, could tell the other party was acting. The Continental Hotel was too important for a senile person to manage. However, time was pressing, and he didn't have time to quarrel. He could only suppress his anger and speak again, emphasizing his words.
"I said, I want you to revoke John Wick's membership! Did you hear me clearly?"
"That's not quite right, Mr. Antonio." Winston's face showed some difficulty. "John Wick has not violated any rules here. According to the Continental Hotel's sacred regulations, I have no immediate reason to revoke his membership."
"Winston, straighten your attitude. This is an order, not a discussion!" Santino was so angry he laughed sharply. "Don't forget, I am a member of the High Table, and I have absolute authority over subordinate Continental Hotels."
"Is that so? I don't think so." Facing Santino's fury, Winston unhurriedly took off his glasses and slowly drawled. "Besides, since you're so eager to revoke John's membership, why don't you discuss it with him personally?"
"Personally?" Santino instantly realized something was horribly wrong and quickly spun around to look.
Sure enough, a man with an expressionless face and a stern demeanor was standing silently right behind him, his eyes filled with an icy coldness that made one feel as if they had fallen into an abyss with just one glance.
John Wick said nothing, as silent as ever, just staring intently at Santino, clearly contemplating where to strike.
"You truly are something, John." After a long silence, Santino, unable to bear being stared at by the harbinger of death, spoke first, his voice shaky but regaining its arrogance. "I spent five million dollars, hired so many assassins, and personally sent my subordinates into action. I didn't expect that after doing so much, I still couldn't deal with you, and you even managed to reach me. But, what does it matter? Even if you found me, what can you do to me?"
At this critical moment, he was no longer flustered; instead, a smug smile appeared on his face, and he spoke with full confidence.
"This is the Continental Hotel. No one can act here. Anyone who dares to violate this will face a bounty from the entire assassin world. Am I right, Winston?" he said, turning to ask the manager sitting beside him.
Winston nodded slowly. "That's correct, Mr. Antonio. The Continental Hotel indeed has such a rule."
"So, John," Santino crowed, his smug smile widening. "Do you still want revenge? I know you really want to kill me, but unfortunately, you'll never be able to..."
"That's not necessarily true," a new voice cut in, clear and dismissive, from the entrance of the lobby. "It just means he can't kill you. But I can."