On the other side.
Russian Mob – Headquarters.
Viggo had just received a report from his subordinates: the team sent to deal with Smith Dole had completely gone dark.
He shook his head in disappointment—another failure.
Lately, things had gone from bad to worse. Every operation against John Wick had ended in disaster. First, the infiltration team was wiped out. Then, nearly thirty men died at the Red Circle Club. After that, the Little Russia church outpost was taken down—about fifty men lost before and after. Then came the warehouse guards protecting his son. And now, the twelve men who ambushed Smith Dole.
All because of a damn car and a dog.
The Russian Mob had lost over a hundred trained men—not street thugs, but elite soldiers armed with assault rifles.
At that moment, his legal advisor Ivy turned to him.
"Boss, what's the next move?"
Viggo didn't answer. Instead, he looked to his brother, Abram Tarasov.
"Abram, did you bring all your men?"
Abram nodded.
"All my shooters are downstairs. But… wasn't the situation with John Wick resolved?"
To Abram, the infamous assassin known as the Night Demon was still terrifying. He knew all too well what the man was capable of.
And if it hadn't been for his brother's massive losses, he would never have been asked to bring men.
Viggo inhaled sharply and spoke.
"This time, the enemy isn't John Wick."
"I made peace with him. The problem now is Smith Dole."
"But as for Wick…"
Even mentioning him gave Viggo a headache. His original plan was to kill the traitor Marcus, have his men eliminate Smith Dole, and once the Russian Mob's operations were stabilized, quietly leave town to lay low.
But he'd foolishly called Wick to taunt him right after killing Marcus. That alone had blown everything up. Leaving New York wouldn't be so easy now.
And Smith Dole wasn't dead either—which meant John Wick could be coming too.
Abram frowned.
"Didn't you say it was settled?"
"You even took down the bounty."
Viggo briefly explained what had happened with Marcus, then turned to another high-ranking member, Ario.
"Ario, how many men did you bring?"
At the question, Ario quickly answered,
"I'm in charge of dealing with stolen cars. Not many fighters on my end—about ten are outside and ready."
Viggo wasn't surprised by that and gave a short nod.
······
While Viggo was busy making his next deployment to eliminate Smith Dole…
Smith Dole himself had already arrived outside the Russian Mob's headquarters.
It was a private clubhouse, not open to the public, and covered a sizable area.
Smith walked straight toward the entrance where four guards stood.
"Sir, this place is not open to outsiders."
Without a word, Smith drew his gun and shot all four in the head.
The sudden attack left them no time to react. None even got a hand on their weapons before their skulls were blown open.
The bodies hitting the ground alerted those inside. Smith pushed the door open and entered the lobby without hesitation, immediately opening fire on the interior guards.
Bullets flew with deadly precision—each one fired at a sharp angle, each one claiming a life.
Smith's rate of fire was incredible. Within seconds, half the rounds from his dual pistols were gone—and the entire lobby team was dead.
The first two died before they could react. The others followed before they even had time to draw their weapons. The last man barely had his gun out—he died before he could pull the trigger.
With the lobby cleared, Smith moved toward the second floor.
······
Upstairs, several Russian brutes were gathered, SMGs slung over their shoulders and vodka bottles in hand.
One of them took a swig and said:
"Ivanov's been acting weird lately. There've been multiple groups of guys sent over today."
"Boss made peace with the Night Demon, but we took a heavy hit. Think he's planning to make an example of some other gang?"
Ivanov gripped his weapon and replied,
"Sergei, we might be moving soon. Ease up on the drinking."
"I worry you won't be able to pull the trigger when the time comes."
Before Ivanov could say more, the alarm system blared to life.
"Enemy intrusion detected! Security, proceed to the second floor and eliminate the intruder!"
Everyone in the room dropped their drinks, grabbed their weapons, and rushed out.
The alarm had been triggered by the surveillance room the moment the carnage in the first-floor lobby was spotted. Security had been alerted and ordered to regroup.
As Smith climbed the stairs to the second floor, he wasn't the least bit surprised by the announcement. If the massacre downstairs hadn't been noticed by now, Viggo would already be dead.
At the second-floor entrance, four armed men had already taken position when they heard the sounds from below. With the alarm now active, they released their safeties, ready to fire the moment anyone appeared.
Smith didn't charge in blindly. Instead, he raised his arms and fired two bullets in an arc—striking and killing two of the guards at the entrance.
Bang! Bang!
The moment they dropped, Smith dashed out and opened fire at the others down the hallway.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Every shot found a target. But reinforcements poured out from every corner. More enemies came down the hall, and doors opened as attackers emerged from the rooms.
Smith's pinpoint accuracy kept them suppressed, but his magazines soon ran dry.
Click. Click.
A gunman hiding at the third-floor stairwell shouted:
"He's out of ammo—rush him!"
Smith sneered.
Out of bullets didn't mean out of options.
Without reloading, he hurled his pistols at the first one to emerge. The sheer force knocked the man flat to the ground.
But he wasn't alone—three more followed behind. Two of them raised their weapons and opened fire.
Ratatatata!
Smith didn't dodge.
Instead, he drew a machete from his lower back and charged forward, slicing through the air.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Bullets were knocked away mid-flight. In one swift motion, Smith swung the blade—and two large heads flew into the air.
(End of Chapter)
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