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...
Blood dripped from my blade onto the polished marble floor of the Continental Beijing. The man at my feet gasped his last breath, his expensive suit now stained crimson. I could feel the other guests watching me with calculated interest as I calmly wiped my knife clean with a silk handkerchief.
"Quite efficient, Miss Lei," Marcus, the hotel manager, remarked as he approached. His perfectly pressed uniform seemed immune to the chaos I'd just created. "Though perhaps next time, the foyer might not be the most... appropriate venue."
I bowed slightly, more out of respect for the Continental than for him. "My apologies. He left me little choice."
"Indeed." Marcus gestured to the cleaning crew already emerging from a service door. "I trust you'll be staying with us tonight?"
"No." I handed him a gold coin. "Just cleanup."
As I walked out into the neon-lit streets of Beijing, my phone buzzed. A message from my father: *Coming home?*
I typed back: *Job's done. Flying to New York tomorrow.*
His response was immediate: *The Continental there isn't your playground, Mei. Remember your training.*
I smiled, sliding the phone back into my pocket. My father, the great Lei Zhang, head of the Lei dynasty, still treated me like a child. But I wasn't the wide-eyed girl who once practiced with wooden swords in our family compound. At twenty-six, I'd earned my place among the elite assassins serving the High Table. More importantly, I was getting closer to my real goal: meeting John Wick.
The Baba Yaga. The Boogeyman. The man who once killed three men in a bar with a pencil. I'd collected every story, every whisper about him since I was sixteen. While other girls had posters of pop stars, I had surveillance photos of Wick in action. My father called it an unhealthy obsession. I called it research.
Back in my apartment, I packed light – a few changes of clothes, my weapons kit disguised as makeup cases, and a small photo album. Inside were newspaper clippings and grainy photos of Wick's greatest hits. The latest addition was a report of him eliminating an entire Ukrainian crime family in one night. They said he didn't even break a sweat.
The flight to New York was uneventful. I spent most of it studying the dossier on my next target: Marcus Constantine. Not *the* Marcus – the legendary sniper who'd mentored Wick – but his younger brother. A former High Table enforcer turned rogue, he'd been stealing secrets and selling them to the highest bidder. The contract was simple: eliminate him and recover a ledger containing sensitive information.
What made it interesting was that Constantine had once worked closely with Wick on several assignments. The possibility of crossing paths with my idol made my heart race. But first, I needed to check in.
