Chapter 159: Building Bonds
Over the following weeks, John finally settled down and focused on renovating his house.
According to Helen, the work was progressing surprisingly quickly.
For the first time in a long while, Ethan felt genuinely relieved.
He suddenly understood why so many employers seemed eager for their employees to get married, buy cars, and take on mortgages.
It wasn't because they wished them happiness.
Nor was it some noble desire to promote a healthy work-life balance.
It was about stability.
Once people had roots, they became much less likely to walk away.
Otherwise, all it took was one bad day.
And suddenly they were retired.
Or gone.
Ever since his house had been blown up, John and Helen had been living at the Continental.
The arrangement always gave Ethan an odd feeling.
Like they could pack a bag at any moment, leave the city, and start an entirely different life somewhere else.
They could be here in the morning and disappear by the afternoon.
Now that John was rebuilding his home, Ethan finally had confirmation of something important:
John intended to stay.
When he thought about it honestly, Ethan realized he didn't actually have much that could tie either of them to the clinic.
Neither of them needed money.
Neither cared about gold coins.
And thanks to his treatments, both were in absurdly good health.
The only thing that might create a lasting connection...
...was children.
Naturally, Ethan had entered what could only be described as the parental matchmaking and grandchild-pressure phase.
The results were immediate and predictable.
Neither John nor Helen had the slightest interest.
---
Meanwhile, the situation outside remained anything but peaceful.
Relations between the Ruska Roma and the Chancellor's Cult had become as tense as a wire stretched to its breaking point.
Neither side had formally declared war.
Yet minor conflicts occurred constantly.
It resembled the relationship between two rival superpowers.
Neither openly announced, We're going to destroy you.
Instead, they tested boundaries.
Created incidents.
Provoked reactions.
Manufactured misunderstandings.
The Cult's pursuit of Eve Maccaro remained relentless.
Every operation was aggressive.
Every move deliberate.
They showed no intention of letting her disappear.
The Ruska Roma, on the other hand, maintained a very public distance from Eve.
Perhaps that was the only reason full-scale war had not erupted.
A fragile balance had emerged.
The Ruska Roma would not openly shelter or assist Eve.
The Cult would refrain from directing its vengeance toward the entire Roma organization.
Conflicts still occurred.
But they remained beneath the surface.
Officially, everything was treated as a personal dispute.
Nothing more.
Nothing larger.
At least on paper.
---
John devoted nearly all of his time to rebuilding the house.
According to Helen, he hadn't involved himself in any of the clashes between the two factions.
Which made perfect sense.
John's very existence served as a deterrent.
The Cult didn't dare push things too far.
And the Director had no desire to place him at the front lines.
After all, no one starts a war by launching nuclear weapons.
The most effective deterrent is not using them.
It's simply possessing them.
Of course, there's one important condition.
When your enemies believe you have that weapon...
...you'd better actually have it.
…
Since the Cult could no longer direct its anger toward anyone else, all of that hatred inevitably converged on a single target:
Eve Maccaro.
As a result, her visits to the clinic became alarmingly frequent.
Serious injuries were common.
Occasionally, she arrived on the verge of death.
Clearly, the Cult was far from incompetent. The pressure they placed on her was real, relentless, and genuinely life-threatening.
Yet it was precisely under that pressure that Eve changed the fastest.
Ethan could see it plainly.
Every time she walked through the clinic doors, something about her felt different.
A little calmer.
A little more composed.
A little more like John.
That quiet focus.
That restraint.
That unwavering determination to keep moving forward, no matter the cost.
Perhaps that was what true professionalism looked like in her world.
Growing through hardship.
Breaking through fear.
Forging oneself through repeated trials.
One day, Ethan mentioned his observation to John.
"I think she's changing fast."
"At this rate, she might become a legend in her own right someday."
John was silent for a moment, genuinely considering it.
Then he shook his head.
"Not yet."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"What's she missing?"
John glanced at him.
"You're what's missing, Doctor."
Ethan blinked.
"What?"
"If you weren't here," John said evenly, "she might have already reached that point."
He paused, then added:
"That doesn't mean she's weak."
"This has been good for her."
"But she's missing one thing."
"What's that?"
John's answer was simple.
"The fear of having no safety net."
Knowing someone will catch you if you fall...
...and believing you'll survive no matter what...
...changes the way a person faces danger.
It's different from standing completely alone.
After a moment, he added almost casually:
"By the way, Doctor."
"If you really want to improve your medical skills..."
"...try keeping an ordinary person alive through something like this."
Ethan stared at him.
So in John's eyes, Ethan's healing was the single biggest factor slowing Eve's growth?
He wasn't sure whether to feel offended or flattered.
Still, after thinking about it, he had to admit there was truth in the statement.
Without the Holy Light, Eve's body would never have endured this long.
---
Ethan never charged her for treatment.
Whenever she asked about payment, he simply waved it away.
"You can owe me."
Oddly enough, that seemed to make her even more uncomfortable.
Helen noticed what Ethan was doing almost immediately.
Not only did she avoid interfering, she quietly helped.
Before long, she and Eve had developed an understanding of their own.
Helen never fussed over her.
Never asked endless questions.
Never tried to force intimacy.
Instead, one day after Ethan finished treating a particularly severe set of injuries, Helen simply led Eve upstairs.
The second floor wasn't occupied.
Yet everything there had been prepared.
Clean beds.
Comfortable sofas.
A private bathroom with hot water available at all times.
No surveillance.
No expectations.
Only safety.
When Eve came back downstairs later, she had cut her hair.
Taken a shower.
Changed into fresh clothes.
She looked like a different person.
After that, it became a routine.
A silent tradition.
The upstairs bathroom was always stocked with clean, comfortable clothing in her size.
After every treatment, Helen would quietly bring Eve upstairs.
Their own private ritual.
Ethan never asked what they talked about.
And he never interrupted.
---
For Eve, the experience was entirely unfamiliar.
In the life she had known, a body was a tool.
Whether it was clean or dirty only affected efficiency.
Nothing more.
But here...
People acted as though she deserved care.
A hot shower.
Fresh clothes.
A comfortable bed.
Sometimes she would simply lie there with her eyes closed, doing absolutely nothing.
And every time she came back downstairs, there was a visible difference.
Not excitement.
Not relief.
Something rarer.
Peace.
Sometimes Ethan found himself watching her.
The feeling was difficult to describe.
Because the more he observed, the more it seemed that he was only healing her physical injuries.
The person truly reaching her heart...
...was Helen.
And Ethan had a suspicion.
Given enough time—
the growing sense of obligation,
the emotional bonds she was forming,
and her reliance on the clinic's care—
sooner or later, Eve would become part of the Rayne Clinic family.
Maybe she wasn't another John Wick.
Not yet.
But she was young.
Talented.
And for someone her age, she'd already built a reputation most people could never imagine.
Her future was wide open.
And for the first time in a very long while, she seemed to have something worth fighting for beyond mere survival.