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 rain rose and fell in sheets across Prague's ancient stones, washing away the evidence. Sofia Eckland watched the crimson trails disappear down the cobblestone streets, her breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. Another name crossed off her list. Another piece of the puzzle that would lead her to the truth.
Seven months had passed since the mission in Mumbai that branded her a traitor to the High Table. Seven months of running, hunting, and slowly dismantling the organization she'd served faithfully for two decades. The irony wasn't lost on her – she'd become the very thing she used to hunt.
Sofia pulled her collar up against the rain and moved silently through the shadows of the narrow street. Behind her, the body of Marcus Chen, one of the Table's chief financiers, grew cold in his private study. His last words still echoed in her mind: "You're dead already, Sofia. The Table never forgets."
But neither did she.
The safe house was exactly as she'd left it – sparse, practical, with multiple escape routes. Sofia methodically stripped off her wet clothes and began maintaining her weapons, a ritual that had kept her alive through countless missions. The Sig Sauer P226 she'd used tonight would need cleaning. The blade strapped to her thigh had remained unused.
As she worked, her mind drifted back to that night in Mumbai. The target had been a local tech mogul with ties to international terrorism – or so she'd been told. The intelligence was perfect, the timing immaculate. Everything had gone according to plan until she'd found the files. Not terrorist manifestos or weapon schematics, but evidence of the High Table's own corruption. The target had been a whistleblower, and she'd been sent to silence him.
Sofia had hesitated. For the first time in twenty years, she'd questioned her orders. That moment of doubt had cost her everything.
Her burner phone buzzed, displaying a message from one of her few remaining contacts: "PRAGUE COMPROMISED. MOVE NOW."
Sofia was already in motion before finishing the message, muscle memory taking over as she packed her essential gear. The bathroom window offered the best escape route, leading to a service alley that—
The distinct click of a safety being released froze her in place.
"The famous Sofia Eckland," a young woman's voice came from the shadows. "I expected someone... older."
Sofia turned slowly, hands raised. The figure emerging from the darkness couldn't have been more than twenty-five. She moved with the fluid grace of a trained killer, but there was something else in her stance – a familiar confidence that Sofia recognized from her own younger days.
"Maya Chen," Sofia said quietly. "Marcus's daughter. I wondered if they'd send you."
The younger woman's grip on her weapon – a customized Glock 19 – remained steady. "The Table sends its regards."
