"Mr. John Wick, it has been a long time since you graced our city with your presence." The bald man spoke with a light smile as they walked.
John turned his head to look at him, starting to speak, "I need to—"
The man cut him off instantly. "I know. Ms. Al-Azwar is already waiting for you."
They soon arrived at the hotel entrance. Pushing open the heavy doors, they revealed a bustling courtyard. It was vibrant and filled with people, looking more like an extravagant gala than a sanctuary for assassins.
"Welcome to the Casablanca Continental, Mr. Wick. I hope the atmosphere is to your liking."
The bald man led John through the crowd, heading deeper into the hotel's interior. "This way, please. Ms. Al-Azwar is not known for her patience."
Finally, they reached a private suite. The man stepped aside. "Good luck, Mr. Wick." He paused, then emphasized, "Good luck!"
With a knowing grin, the man repeated the blessing twice before retreating.
Left alone in the empty, silent hall, John took a few cautious steps forward. On a round table in the center of the room sat several photographs. John picked up a small frame; it was a photo of Sofia and her daughter.
As he studied the image, a low, menacing growl filled the room. Two Belgian Malinois appeared from the shadows, their teeth bared, eyes locked onto John as they coiled, ready to strike.
In that moment, the sharp clack-clack of a handgun being chambered echoed from the back of the suite. A woman emerged from the darkness, pistol raised, walking slowly toward him.
"Do you like dogs, John?" she asked coldly.
John looked at the silhouette. "Sofia?"
He carefully placed the frame back on the table and raised both hands, palms open.
Sofia didn't hesitate. She squeezed the trigger, aiming directly for John's torso.
Bang!
The bullet slammed into John's stomach. The sheer kinetic force and the sudden bloom of pain sent him reeling back onto the floor.
Gasping, John looked up at her. "Sofia... you can't kill the holder of your Marker."
She stepped closer, the gun never wavering. "I didn't kill you. I just shot you." She looked down at his chest, noting the lack of blood. "Nice suit."
John took a ragged breath and shook his jacket. A flattened bullet tumbled out and clattered onto the floor. It was the latest armored weave from the Continental—it saved his life, but being hit at point-blank range still felt like being kicked by a mule.
"Good to see you," John managed to say.
Sofia gritted her teeth. "I should blow your head off right now."
"I know," John replied. Still sitting on the floor, he reached slowly into the inner pocket of his jacket.
"Don't do it," Sofia warned, her finger tightening on the trigger.
John didn't pull a gun. Instead, he withdrew a heavy, ornate medallion—the Marker Sofia had given him years ago.
Sofia stared at the gold disc. "You're excommunicated, John. That blood oath is meaningless now."
John stood up slowly, the Marker held open in his hand. He held it out so she could see the dried blood inside.
"This is your blood. Your bond."
"When you needed help, I helped you."
John was learning on the fly, repeating almost word-for-word the logic others had used against him in the past.
Sofia stared at the medallion for a long time before letting out a weary sigh. She lowered her weapon and looked at him with resignation. "Sit."
Instantly, the two Malinois sat perfectly still.
John glanced at the dogs, his hand still holding the Marker. Sofia rolled her eyes. "I was talking to you, John."
She turned and sat on a nearby sofa. John followed suit.
"You realize I'm management now, right?" Sofia asked. "I don't provide services anymore. I don't go out and kill people for hire."
John shook his head. "I'm not asking you to kill anyone."
"Then what?"
"I need you to take me to him."
"To whom?"
"Your old boss. The manager of this Continental."
Sofia froze. "You want to kill Berrada?"
"I won't kill him," John insisted. "I just want to talk."
Sofia looked at him with pure confusion. "And what could he possibly give you?"
John looked down, his voice heavy with the weight of his journey. "Guidance."
Sofia took a moment to process this. "Listen, when I agreed to take over this hotel, I made a deal. That deal says I follow the rules of the Table. If you don't kill him, he'll kill you. And he'll likely kill me for bringing you to his door."
She leaned in, her voice hushed and intense. "If I make one mistake, if I create one enemy, they might go after my daughter. I know what you did to help get her out... but I can't take this risk. I'm sorry."
John looked up. "Do you want to know where she is?"
Sofia's eyes shimmered with a mix of longing and pain. "No. I never want to know. Because I don't trust myself not to go to her. A part of me dies every day just to keep her safe."
Her voice cracked slightly. "Sometimes you have to kill what you love. That's why I gave you that Marker. That's why I'm sitting here, trapped."
John looked at the Marker in his hand. "Consequences..."
"Yeah," Sofia nodded. "Consequences."
John stood up and placed the Marker on the table, sliding it slowly toward her. "I'm only asking you to try. Whatever happens next... you and I, we're square."