The ambush in the stairwell was utterly one-sided.
It didn't take long before Duggan emerged from the fourth-floor stairwell. Lowering his head, he peered down through the gaps where half-broken stair steps had collapsed. His gaze pierced through the gaps between the fourth, third, and second floors, clearly locking onto the helmets of the enforcers trapped between the first and second floors.
Of course—those ballistic helmets couldn't stop the rounds from his precision rifle.
Pfft!
A muffled shot with the suppressor.
The bullet traveled downward, precisely punching through an enforcer's helmet, drilling into his skull, tearing through his throat, smashing into his gallbladder, and finally exiting lower, before embedding itself in the stairwell.
Pfft! Pfft!
Duggan kept squeezing the trigger. One by one, the enforcers dropped.
John Wick, Caine, and Fox seized the opportunity, pressing the remaining survivors tighter and tighter into a killing zone.
Within minutes, only six stubborn enforcers were left resisting in the stairwell.
Elsewhere.
Eight enforcers pursued Anna's footsteps. As soon as they turned the corner—
they ran straight into two Lighthouse kill squads lying in ambush.
Ten killers, rifles already raised, sights trained on the bend.
The instant the enforcers showed themselves—
RATATAT!
RATATAT!
Hundreds of bullets poured out in a storm.
The first four enforcers through the corner were shredded instantly, their bodies reduced to bloody ruin. The carnage rivaled even the grotesque remains of those who had been torn apart by Gatling fire outside the hotel gates.
The remaining four enforcers froze, pressed flat against the corner, terrified of sharing their comrades' fate.
Silence fell again after that brutal volley.
Finally, the nearest enforcer dared to edge forward and peek.
What greeted him was the still-smoking muzzle of Anna's SIG-MPX carbine.
Bang! Bang!
Two rounds punched right through his forehead, ending him instantly.
With a flick, Anna slung the carbine back and drew her pistol in a fluid motion.
She didn't even step out—her gun muzzle appeared first.
Bang! Bang!
Two blind shots, followed by a sudden sidestep.
In a blink, the last three enforcers were exposed in her sightlines.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Two swift double-taps dropped the farthest pair.
Anna lunged forward, closing in on the nearest enforcer before he could raise his weapon. She shoved his barrel aside, kicked him hard in the chest, and fired two rounds into him point-blank.
Bang! Bang!
In just a few seconds, Anna had perfectly replicated John Wick's signature rapid-fire technique.
Without hesitation, she put an extra round into each of the two she had dropped earlier—
Bang. Bang.
Only then did she calmly holster her pistol, swap back to her carbine, and finish the clean-up.
Not even winded, Anna strode over the corpses, the firefight little more than a warm-up for her. She headed toward the stairwell to regroup with the others.
On the rooftop, Alex Cross watched her work with satisfaction, nodding faintly.
But beside him, Ramsay brought unexpected news.
"Mr. Cross… someone just infiltrated the club."
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up a live feed from the Lighthouse Club's security system onto the big screen.
The footage showed a woman armed with a TDI Vector-Seven Harbinger carbine, prying open the club's doors and striding inside toward the rear.
Alex recognized her instantly—
Ares, the mute assassin from John Wick: Chapter 2.
Her path was clear: slip through the club's back kitchen, cross the alley, and attempt to enter the Lighthouse Hotel from the rear.
No surprise. The club and the hotel had once belonged to the Camorra family before Alex took them. Of course Ares knew her way around.
He even guessed instantly who had sent her—none other than Santino D'Antonio, that fool.
Alex shook his head.
Hadn't he already shown the world his strength? Just twenty-four hours ago, he had deliberately unleashed ten of his "Warlords" in public, slaughtering over a hundred High Table enforcers in broad daylight to scare off scavengers who thought they could swoop in after the war.
Any rational faction, having seen that display of muscle, would never dare attempt a sneak attack.
But Santino clearly wasn't rational.
Still, Alex almost smiled. In a way, he appreciated Santino's move.
After all, just yesterday he had signed a five-year non-aggression pact with Santino's sister, Gianna. By sending Ares now, Santino had already nullified that agreement.
Which meant—Alex was free to deal with the Camorra family however he pleased.
He could almost picture Santino's father's fury when he discovered they had given up a hotel, a club, and 150 gold coins for an agreement that barely lasted a day. The old man's life expectancy was short enough—rage might just cut it even shorter.
As for Ares? Alex wasn't concerned.
With the elevators disabled, the only way up to the rooftop was through the stairwells.
And those stairwells were guarded by five of his top killers.
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If you're interested, you can read advanced chapters:
pat reon .com / Samorash