“No.”
Sonya screamed. Her soldiers rushed forward. And then every window of The Continental opened. Enforcers, assassins, and guests—men and women who had paid for neutrality and were now having it violated—opened fire.
The woman set down the tray. From beneath the silver dome, she produced not champagne, but a severed finger. It was pink and ringed and unmistakably Enzo’s index finger—the one he used to feel a lock’s tumblers. the continental: from the world of john wick libvpx
Carmine did not touch the glass. “Who let you in?”
“Yes. And for that, she will be excommunicated. But not before she arrives in person. She is on her way. Seventeen cars. Sixty-two armed personnel. And she has hired a man you know.” Enforcers, assassins, and guests—men and women who had
The cylinder arced down. Sonya’s eyes followed it. The Ghost of Belarus turned his head.
“The front door was unlocked.” She smiled. It did not reach her eyes. “She also wanted me to give you a message.” It was pink and ringed and unmistakably Enzo’s
“The cylinder?” Carmine asked.