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...
The confessional's wooden walls held a century of whispered sins. Father Glenn listened to another, his collar tight against his throat.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned," the voice wavered. "I've killed... so many. I see their faces when I close my eyes."
Glenn recognized the speaker-Michael Chen, one of Continental Berlin's most efficient cleaners. Three days ago, he'd eliminated an entire Romanian crime family. Fourteen dead, including two children who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Tell me everything," Glenn said softly.
The confession poured out in broken whispers. Glenn listened, as he always did, cataloging details that might prove useful later. The Ghost needed information to survive. But Father Glenn needed to heal wounded souls.
"...and the little girl, Father. She was holding a teddy bear."
"The burden you carry is heavy," Glenn said when Michael finished. "But redemption is possible, even for those with blood on their hands."
"How can you know that?"
Glenn closed his eyes, remembering his own first kill. Paris, 1997. A corrupt cardinal who'd been selling church secrets to the highest bidder. "Because God's mercy extends even to those who deal in death. The question is: are you truly seeking absolution, or just relief from guilt?"
Silence from the other side of the confessional.
"I... I don't know."
"Then that is your true penance. Not prayers or acts of contrition, but the journey to understand your own heart." Glenn leaned closer to the screen. "Return when you've found an answer."
After Michael left, Glenn remained in the confessional, thinking. Word of his unique ministry had spread through the underground over the past decade. Assassins, hitmen, cleaners-they came to his small church on the outskirts of Berlin seeking something between forgiveness and therapy. He offered both, along with occasional tactical advice gleaned from his own years as the Ghost.
The High Table tolerated his operation because it kept their killers stable. But lately, he'd sensed a shift. More questions about his methods. More surveillance.
The church's heavy doors creaked open. Glenn tensed, his hand moving to the blade concealed in his cassock. Footsteps approached-measured, deliberate. Professional.
"Father?" A woman's voice, American accent. "I need to confess."
Glenn emerged from the confessional, studying his visitor. She wore a tailored grey suit, her dark hair pulled back severely. Everything about her screamed Table enforcer.
