In the dark and relentless world of assassins bound by codes, hidden allegiances, and unbreakable oaths, Blood Oaths and Shadows offers a thrilling collection of interconnected short stories set within the legendary universe of John Wick. These stor...
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Starring SolesOfWonder Hannah as Victoria Kane and Sarah as Isabella Vega
The killing was art.
Victoria Kane watched the target's reflection in her wineglass, counting heartbeats. The man behind her was Eduard Volkov, a High Table financier who'd grown too fond of skimming funds meant for widows' pensions. In four minutes, he would excuse himself to the bathroom of this exclusive Moscow restaurant. In five, he would be dead.
She lifted the glass, pretending to sip. Her crimson lips left a perfect imprint on the crystal, matching her Louboutins and the garnets at her throat. Everything calculated, everything precise. That's what they called her in whispers—the Black Widow. Beautiful, deadly, patient.
They didn't know she was also angry.
"If you'll excuse me, my dear..." Right on schedule, Volkov stood.
Victoria smiled, all warmth and charm. "Of course."
She counted to thirty before following, her black dress whispering against marble floors. The restaurant's private level was empty—she'd ensured that with a generous bribe to the maître d'. No witnesses, no complications.
Volkov never saw her coming. The garrote pulled tight with surgical precision, cutting off both air and sound. As he struggled, she whispered in his ear:
"The Table sends its regards. And Elena Kane sends hers."
His eyes widened at the name. Good. She wanted him to know why he was dying.
When it was done, she arranged him carefully in the stall. Natural causes—a heart attack, nothing more. Her signature was invisibility itself.
Her phone buzzed as she returned to the dining room. A text from an unlisted number:
*Urgent meeting. Continental. One hour.*
Victoria's pulse quickened. The message could only be from one person: Isabella Vega, newly appointed to the High Table's inner council. The woman who'd once meant everything to her. The woman who'd betrayed her.
The woman she was planning to kill.
---
The Continental Moscow gleamed like a frozen palace, its Art Deco façade catching the winter moonlight. Victoria nodded to the doorman, accepting his "Welcome, Ms. Kane" with practiced grace. Inside, the lobby hummed with quiet activity—assassins and criminals conducting business with exquisite manners and hidden weapons.
The concierge handed her a key. "Suite 712. You're expected."
The elevator ride gave her time to settle her thoughts. Five years had passed since she'd last seen Isabella face-to-face. Five years since that night in Barcelona when everything changed.
