Almost Dirtying the House

John Wick saw what was happening outside on the monitor in the entryway.

He looked at the man on the screen, dressed in a suit and tie, his hair slicked back, his eyes full of gloom. Cold as he was, he could not help but say, "Fuck."

That damned Eastern man inside, feeding alcohol to the dog, had really jinxed it. He had been right—someone had come for his life with a blood marker.

He let out a long breath, opened the door, and looked at the gloomy man outside, who was trying his best to smile amiably. "Santino."

"John, may I come in?" Santino Antonio asked politely.

"Of course."

John Wick stepped aside, glanced at the more than ten people standing guard outside beside three cars, then closed the door and went back inside.

"John, I'm very sorry about your wife." The Italian Mafia thug, who rarely made small talk with anyone, went straight for the painful subject as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Thank you. Coffee or something else to drink?"

"Cof... You have a guest? An Eastern man?" Santino, who had just been about to answer, spotted the man sitting inside, drinking and playing with the dog. He turned back to John Wick. "I think we need a private space, John."

Seeing the teasing look in Wang Yan's eyes, John Wick shook his head. "He's my friend, and a registered assassin at the Continental Hotel. Santino, I know why you came here, but trust me—please don't take it out. Sit down, have a coffee, talk about old times, then leave."

Santino frowned, his tone turning vicious. "Listen, John. To be honest, I didn't want to come either. But I had no choice. Only you—only you can help me."

"Don't do this." John's face was cold as