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thebunnednun · 5 months ago

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The Fawn and the Wolf - John Wick X Assassin! Reader (Part 2)

Warning: Eventual smut, Violence, Size difference, predictor/prey, and other kinks. Age gap as well as Angst.

Summary:

"Who the hell wants to marry a man they've never met?" Certainly not you. After staging your own death to escape a forced marriage orchestrated by your ruthless family, they retaliate by sending the infamous John Wick after you. Now, you're fucked in more ways than one. Evading Baba Yaga himself is no easy feat, especially when he's sympathetic to your plight but bound by a marker to bring you back.Amidst the chaos, you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to John, his allure undeniable as you embark on a thrilling game of cat and mouse across the globe. As the stakes escalate and the danger intensifies, you're caught between loyalty and freedom, you face a daunting choice that could change your life forever.What are you going to do? Marry the man your family has picked for you? Or do you start over with the surprisingly kind killer you meet?

Notes:

In this narrative, certain deceased characters resurface, their roles pivotal to the plot, although not all events adhere strictly to canon. The timeline aligns closely with the events leading up to the fourth movie. The only original characters are your family members. I will add a playlist for this later.

-----------------------Chapter 2:First meetings---------------------------

The lively bar in Tokyo buzzed with energy, a stark contrast to the looming tension back home. Neon lights flickered across the walls, casting vibrant hues over the patrons. Laughter and chatter filled the air, blending with the clinking of glasses and the soft hum of music.

[Name] leaned back in her seat, nursing a ginger ale. She wore a black wig with blunt bangs that framed her face, the strands falling just above her shoulders. Her eyes, usually a striking color, were hidden behind dark contacts, and her eyelids were painted with black eyeshadow that accentuated the intensity of her gaze. Deep red lipstick added a touch of drama, contrasting sharply with her glowy skin. Her attire was simple but effective—a fitted black dress paired with heeled ankle boots, perfect for blending into the bar's eclectic crowd.

Michelle sat across from you, elegant and poised despite the chaos around them. She sipped her cocktail with a graceful motion, her platinum blonde hair cascading in gentle waves over her shoulders. The small crucifix at her collarbone glinted in the neon lights. Her calm, serene demeanor contrasted sharply with the raucous energy of the bar. She adjusted the black mask on her face, a precaution you insisted upon. Draped over her shoulders was a bulletproof suit jacket, a subtle but necessary measure of safety.

Michelle sipped her cocktail, her eyes thoughtful as she glanced around the bar. "You know we have to go back eventually," she said, her voice barely audible over the din.

[Name] rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her ginger ale. "You know why I'm not going back," she replied, her tone carrying a hint of amusement.

"But staying here isn't going to solve anything."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "It’s not about solving things, it’s about taking a breather. We’re not robots, Michelle. We need to live, even if it’s just for a night."

“Shouldn’t I be telling you this?”

[Name] glanced around the bar. Groups of locals were engaged in animated conversations, a couple shared a quiet moment in the corner, and a group of salarymen laughed loudly at the bar, their ties loosened and faces flushed from alcohol. A DJ was setting up in the far corner, preparing to spin tracks for the night ahead.

You were smart enough to call your friends ahead of time and make sure you’d never be alone. Just trying to lay low on your own would’ve been fine. But you weren’t going to chance things with Michelle, again. She came with you and now you were responsible for her until you could sneak her back home.

As Michelle finished her drink, she leaned back and observed [Name] with a mix of concern and curiosity. "You can’t hide forever, you know. They’ll find you."

[Name] shrugged, her expression unreadable. "Let them try."

Michelle reached out and touched your hand gently. "Just... be careful. You know Nick worries about you." She wrapped her soft fingers around yours in a gesture of comfort.

“Good, then he should be worried about what I’ll do if he doesn’t call off the marriage.”

“I think he should worry about what you’ll do if he does find you.”

A shadow passed over [Name]'s face at the mention of Nick. You glanced at your best friend, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes.

"I’ll be fine, Michelle. I always am."

The two women sat in silence for a moment, the vibrant energy of the bar continuing to swirl around them. Michelle adjusted her mask, her eyes scanning the room for any potential threats, while [Name] tried to allow herself a brief moment of peace, knowing that their respite in this lively Tokyo bar was only temporary.

—--

John sat in a dimly lit room, the low hum of the bustling Tokyo nightlife seeping through the thin walls. The room was modest, a stark contrast to the opulence of his previous visit to the Morales estate. A single lamp on the bedside table cast a warm glow, illuminating the map of the city spread out before him. He traced a route with his finger, eyes narrowing as he considered his next move.

His phone buzzed, the name "The King" flashing on the screen. He picked up, leaning back against the headboard, and let out a sigh. "What’s the news?"

"John," the Bowery King's voice was a low rumble, tinged with concern. "Fawn doesn’t seem to be in New York. I can’t catch a word of this girl anywhere. Nick’s old apartment was torched a few days ago. Same situation like that Cordelia lady. Tenants are fine, but it’s clear someone wanted to cover their tracks."

John ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his eyes. "So she’s on the move. Any leads?"

"Seems that way. Any luck on your end?" the King asked, the sound of shuffling papers in the background.

John glanced around the small room, the city’s neon glow seeping through the window, a sense of weariness settling in. "Japan's been a maze. I’ve been to enough local bars to last a lifetime. No sign of her."

The King chuckled softly. "Well, Japan’s a big place. Maybe you’re just not looking in the right spots."

John rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the exhaustion. "I’ve tried using the tracking devices, King. She’s still off the grid. Whoever’s helping her knows what they’re doing."

“What if no one’s helping her at all?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, the sound of the King's thoughtful hum barely audible. "Then she’s resourceful, I’ll give her that. But everyone slips up eventually. Maybe she’ll reach out to someone, or make a move that puts her back on our radar."

John’s eyes drifted to the window, where the neon lights of Tokyo flickered like distant stars. "I’ve been watching for any signs. But it’s like she’s vanished into thin air."

"Keep at it, John," the Bowery King said, his voice a mix of encouragement and command. "You’re the best at what you do. If anyone can find her, it’s you."

John's grip tightened on the phone. “Thanks. Just keep feeding me any information you get."

"Will do," the King replied.

"And John?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. She’s not just any mark."

John's lips twitched into a faint smile. "I know. She’s a ghost.”

“But I’m good at chasing ghosts."

“Get back out there, I’ll be down in a minute.”

As the call ended, John placed his phone on the table and looked at the map once more. His mind raced with possibilities, each lead a thin thread that could either unravel the mystery or lead him deeper into the labyrinth. He stood up, stretching his muscles, and walked to the window, the city’s glow reflecting in his eyes.

He would find you. It was just a matter of time.

---

In the heart of Tokyo, amidst the sea of neon and noise, John blended into the crowd. He moved with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning every face, every corner. The bar scene was familiar now, each visit a repetition of the same routine—asking questions, showing pictures, observing reactions. Tonight, he entered another bar, its exterior marked by a flickering sign in kanji.

Inside, the atmosphere was lively. Patrons crowded around small tables, sharing drinks and stories. The air was thick with the scent of sake and grilled skewers. John made his way to the bar, ordering a drink to blend in. As he sipped his whiskey, his eyes never stopped moving.

He pulled out his phone, checking the tracker’s line David slipped him once more. The small dots representing the tracking devices were still offline, lost in the ether. Frustration gnawed at him, but he kept his expression neutral. He leaned back, casually observing the room through the mirror behind the bar.

A group of young professionals laughed loudly at a nearby table, their animated gestures creating a stark contrast to his stillness. A couple whispered to each other in a corner, their heads close together. The bartender moved with practiced ease, serving drinks and chatting with regulars.

John's mind wandered back to the conversation with the Bowery King. The Fawn was good—too good. Your ability to stay off the grid was impressive, but it only fueled his determination. He would find you, and when he did, he’d have to decide what came next.

The bar door swung open, a gust of cool night air swirling in. John glanced up, his heart skipping a beat as a familiar figure entered. But it was just a fleeting resemblance, another false lead. He sighed, finishing his drink and signaling for another.

As he waited, he pulled out his phone again, scrolling through the messages and photos the King had sent him. Each one a piece of the puzzle, a clue to her whereabouts. He focused on photo of Michelle, studying the background details, searching for anything that might give her away.

The bartender placed another glass of whiskey in front of him, nodding respectfully. John acknowledged it with a brief nod, his mind still deep in thought. He’d been to bars, clubs, and underground spots all over Tokyo. The city’s nightlife was a labyrinth, and somewhere within it, you were hiding.

John Wick, the Baba Yaga, was on your trail. And he wouldn’t stop until he found you.

–

The two women conversed in hushed tones, their words masked by the surrounding noise. “Tu sais que tu dois rentrer un jour,” Michelle began, her French elegant and measured.

("You know you have to go back one day.")

[Name] rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink. “Je sais pourquoi je ne veux pas rentrer,” she replied, her tone crass and tired.

("You know why I don't want to go back.")

Michelle’s eyes softened as she looked at her friend. “Ce que tu as fait à l’appartement de Nick… des gens auraient pu être blessés.”

("What you did to Nick's apartment... people could have been hurt.")

[Name] shrugged, her expression unrepentant. “J’ai fait ça des dizaines de fois. Je m’en fiche plus.”

("I've done this dozens of times. I don't care anymore.")

Michelle shook her head, clearly disapproving. “Je n’ai jamais été d’accord avec les actions de mon mari,” she said quietly.

("I've never agreed with my husband's actions.")

[Name] leaned back in her chair, her gaze hardening. “Vous aimez Nick, mais vous n’auriez jamais dû vous marier.”

("You love Nick, but you should never have married.")

Michelle’s calm demeanor remained unshaken. “Comme Aaron et Amalia?” she countered coolly.

("Like Aaron and Amalia?")

The mention of Amalia’s marriage made [Name] clench her jaw. She didn’t lash out at Michelle, but the anger was evident. “Je souhaite que nous soyons nés dans un monde sans de telles horreurs cachées. Que nous soyons tous nés normaux et heureux.”

("I wish we were born into a world without such hidden horrors. That we were all born normal and happy.")

Michelle reached out, wrapping her arms around [Name], pulling the smaller girl into a comforting embrace. [Name] never cried, especially not in public, but she felt that familiar pressure behind her eyes. She took a deep breath, pushing the emotion down, and exhaled slowly through her nose.

As the feeling subsided, she coughed lightly and signaled to the bartender. “お会計をお願いします,” she requested, handing Michelle some money for the tab.

("The check, please.")

“Viens avec moi aux toilettes,” she added, standing up.

("Come with me to the bathroom.")

Before leaving, [Name] caught the eyes of a few young people in the bar—old acquaintances. You signaled that you were heading home, and they acknowledged you with nods and thumbs up. Together, You and Michelle made your way to the restroom, the bar patrons oblivious to the gravity of their conversation.

In the restroom, you splashed water on your face, the cold liquid grounding her thoughts. Michelle stood beside you, silently offering support. The restroom was quiet, a stark contrast to the lively bar outside. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly, casting a harsh light on their reflections.

“Tu sais que je m’inquiète pour toi,” Michelle said softly, her voice filled with concern.

("You know I'm worried about you.")

[Name] looked at her reflection, seeing the weariness in her own eyes. “Je sais, Michelle. Mais je dois faire ça.”

("I know, Michelle. But I have to do this.")

Michelle sighed, wrapping an arm around [Name]'s shoulders. “Je comprends. Mais fais attention, d’accord?”

("I understand. But be careful, okay?")

[Name] nodded, taking a deep breath. “Toujours.”

("Always.")

They left the restroom together, [Name] signaling to the young men again as they exited the bar. The night was still alive with activity, the neon lights casting colorful reflections on the wet flooring. [Name] pulled her coat tighter around her, the chill of the bar air a sharp reminder of the world she was trying to escape.

As they walked, [Name] couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, the sense of an impending confrontation looming over her. She had evaded many hunters before, but Nick was different. He was relentless, and she knew that eventually, their paths would cross.

‘Annoying ass Fucker.’

For now, you would continue to evade, continue to survive.

But the game of cat and mouse was far from over.

[Name] turned to Michelle, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Veux-tu aller faire du shopping?” she asked in French.

("Do you want to go shopping?")

Michelle smiled, about to respond when [Name] abruptly bumped into a figure she hadn't noticed. Startled, she stumbled slightly, and strong hands caught her waist, steadying her. She looked up to see a man with a chiseled jawline, piercing chocolate eyes, and a ruggedly handsome face framed by slightly tousled dark hair. His presence was commanding, his stance solid, and his suit impeccable, tailored to perfection. His broad shoulders and muscular build made him stand out, even in the crowded bar.

[Name] felt her heart skip a beat, but she quickly masked her shock, not wanting to draw attention.

“Je suis désolée,” [Name] stammered in French, still shaken by the sudden contact.

("I’m sorry.")

John’s grip was firm but gentle. He replied smoothly, his French impeccable. “Pas de problème.”

("No problem.")

Their eyes locked momentarily, and a subtle feeling passed between them. She noticed the rugged features of the person before her, his warm hands on her waist, and the sharp lines of his suit. He noticed how her eyes seemed to emit light even in the dimly lit bar and how soft her hands were on his chest. There was an unspoken connection, a magnetic pull that took them both by surprise. Realizing his hands were still on her, she gently pulled away.

John, ever the gentleman, released her immediately. Michelle, quick on her feet, began to apologize in a mix of broken English, French, and Japanese. “We’re so sorry, sir! It was an accident. Désolée. 本当にすみません。”

John responded in both languages, his tone calm and reassuring. “It’s fine. No harm done. Ce n’est rien. 大丈夫です。”

Both women avoided eye contact, feeling the weight of the moment. [Name] bowed to John before grabbing Michelle’s hand, pushing her forward. “We’ve had a bit too much to drink,” she said, her voice carrying a false lightness.

John insisted on walking them to a door. “Let me help you get a cab. It’s safer.”

The bar around them was lively, with patrons laughing and drinking, oblivious to the tension. The bartender glanced over, recognizing the signal from [Name], and subtly nodded. [Name]’s comrades watched from a distance, trying to act normal. Even the DJ lowered the music subtly. Michelle accepted John’s offer to avoid suspicion, while you debated whether to take his life in the alleyway. Instead, you dismissed the thought, knowing it would complicate everything.

The mental strain was evident as you finally accepted John’s help. He hailed a taxi, assisting you both into the cab with a courteous smile. “Have a good night. Be safe,” he said in both languages, waving them off.

"Bonne nuit," they replied, waving as the cab pulled away.

John returned to the bar, the encounter replaying in his mind. There was something familiar about the younger woman. He took out the photo of [Name] again, studying her eyes. A curse slipped from his lips as realization struck—you had just slipped out of his hands, quite literally.

Inside the taxi, You sighed, leaning back against the seat. “That was too close,” you muttered.

Michelle, still processing the encounter, nodded. “Did you know who that man was?”

You shook your head, trying to dispel the lingering warmth of John’s touch. “Whether I know him or not doesn’t matter. As long as he didn’t see me.”

The taxi sped through the bustling streets of Tokyo, neon lights flashing by. As they drove away, [Name] couldn’t help but glance back through the Taxi mirror, a part of her still caught in the intensity of John’s gaze.

[Name] leaned back in the taxi, the tension of the encounter still palpable. She turned to Michelle. "Hand me your mirror. I need to fix my lipstick."

Michelle, ever prepared, reached into her bag and pulled out a small compact mirror. [Name] flipped it open, but as she checked her reflection, her heart sank. Her colored contacts were gone. Your natural eye color, a distinguishing feature, was now visible.

You leaned back in the taxi, your fingers trembling slightly as you adjusted the mirror.

Michelle, noticing your distress, asked, "Did you lose them in the restroom?"

[Name] cursed under her breath. "He saw my real eyes."

Michelle's calm demeanor faltered, a flicker of concern crossing her face. "Shit."

“Michelle!”

Trying to steady her breathing, [Name] grabbed her phone, dialing her contact at the bar. Meanwhile, in the bar, John sipped his new drink, his sharp eyes scanning the room, every detail scrutinized. The bartender kept a close watch on him, noting his every move. Some of [Name]’s friends discreetly slipped out the back door, readying a safe passageway.

When the call connected, [Name] spoke urgently, "Has he been asking about us?"

At that moment, John approached the bartender. "How long were those two women here?"

The bartender, careful not to reveal too much, replied, "Not long. They were just passing through."

Lowering his voice, the bartender spoke into the phone, "The Wolf is after you."

A chill ran down [Name]’s spine. "Thanks," she whispered, ending the call.

You stopped the French and caught the driver's attention in Japanese. “The club on 43rd street please. And step on it.”

As they sped through the neon-lit streets, [Name] tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing down the emotion and fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

Michelle looked apprehensive. "What's going on?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "The family sent death himself after me. We need to get you back home, now ."

Michelle sighed, pulling the suit jacket tighter around her stomach. "Of course they did."

The taxi driver sped through Tokyo's neon-lit streets, each light casting fleeting shadows across their faces. Within minutes, they arrived at a bustling dance club, its neon sign flickering in the rain. The pulsating music and vibrant lights offered a temporary refuge. As they stepped out of the cab, [Name] pulled Michelle close.

"Stay with me."

Inside, the club was a riot of color and sound. The dance floor was packed with people, their bodies moving to the heavy beat of the music. Patrons laughed and shouted, oblivious to the danger that just walked in. [Name] quickly scanned the room, her eyes darting from face to face, searching for any sign of threat or familiarity.

"We'll blend in here for a bit," You said, guiding Michelle to the dance floor. "Then we’ll make our move."

Michelle nodded, her trust in you unwavering. "Lead the way."

As they danced through, [Name] tried to focus on the rhythm of the music, but her mind was racing. The encounter with John had rattled her more than she wanted to admit. His presence was a stark reminder of the life she was trying to escape. She had to stay focused, keep Michelle safe, and stay one step ahead of the hunter on her trail.

Back at the bar, John was piecing together the clues. He pulled out the photo of Michelle again, studying the neon sign, now realizing it was the same bar he was sitting in. He flipped it over on the back to find a phone number. When he called it, it found the dance club you had just escaped to.

On the dance floor, [Name] and Michelle moved through the crowd, their movements purposeful yet unassuming. The beat of the music pounded in [Name]’s chest, a constant reminder of the urgency of their situation. You had to keep moving, stay ahead of John, and find a way to escape the tightening noose of your family's relentless pursuit.

–

[Name] pushed Michelle into the bathroom, her grip firm yet protective. She quickly scanned the stalls, ensuring they were empty before locking the door. The pounding beat of the club's music was muffled but still palpable through the walls.

"Michelle, we need to change now," [Name] said, urgency threading her voice. She opened her purse, pulling out a neatly folded bulletproof suit. The fabric was deceptively lightweight, designed to look like part of a club scene, complete with strategic glow stick attachments that would make it blend seamlessly into the flashing lights and neon ambiance of the dance floor.

Michelle, visibly shaken, looked at [Name] with wide eyes. "You planned this?" she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and admiration.

"Of course. I won’t let anything happen to you," [Name] replied, handing her the suit. "Now, hurry."

Michelle stepped into one of the stalls, quickly shedding her previous clothes. When she emerged, she was a vision of tactical elegance. The suit, covered in iridescent panels that glowed under UV light, hugged her frame perfectly. She looked like she belonged in the club, yet was protected head to toe.

[Name] handed her a short red wig, which Michelle slipped on, adjusting it to cover her natural hair. As Michelle finished, [Name] began her own transformation, changing into a sleek two-piece outfit . She topped it with Michelle’s previous black suit jacket, which added a layer of sophistication and protection.

Next, [Name] took off her makeup, wiping away the bold black eyeshadow but keeping the deep red lipstick. Her face now almost bare, she looked at Michelle, who had tears brimming in her eyes.

"We have to get you home, Michelle. I’ve already made the arrangements. Just act natural and stay calm. I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you have your gun?"

Michelle nodded, her eyes red from holding back tears. "I just… I don’t want to leave you," she sniffled.

[Name] squared Michelle’s shoulders, looking her in the eye with unwavering determination.

"You have to go. We don’t have a choice."

Michelle took a deep breath, steeling herself. [Name] hugged her tightly, a fierce protectiveness emanating from her. You pulled a small pistol from the cleavage of your outfit and slipped it into one of Michelle’s sneakers.

"That’s for just in case," You said, your voice low and serious.

Michelle nodded, feeling the weight of the gun but also the reassurance of your careful planning.

They exited the bathroom, blending seamlessly back into the chaotic energy of the club.

The pulsating rhythm of the music reverberated through the crowded club, filling the air with an electrifying energy. [Name] and Michelle moved in sync with the beat, their bodies swaying to the music as they navigated through the sea of dancers.

As they made their way toward the back of the club, [Name]'s beeper buzzed in her pocket, signaling a message from her friends. "They're waiting for us in the back," you shouted over the music to Michelle, gesturing in the direction of the exit.

But before they could reach safety, you felt a familiar aura appear in the crowd. You craned your neck to the entrance and saw him—John Wick. His presence sent your nerves to drop in the pit of your stomach, but you pushed aside your apprehension and focused on getting Michelle to safety.

Just as John spots you and begins to make his way over, the DJ, recognizing the perfect moment, cranks up the volume and declares, "It's time to BOOGY, people!" The crowd erupts into cheers, their enthusiasm fueling the atmosphere with an electric buzz.

"We have to go, now!" [Name] urged, her voice barely audible over the booming bass of the music. She tightened her grip on Michelle's hand and quickened their pace, dodging through the crowd as John began moving closer in on them.

As the pulsating rhythm of " YEAH !" by Usher and Lil Jon floods the club, [Name] and Michelle find themselves swept up in the contagious energy, their bodies barely avoiding the onslaught of dancers shaking to the beat. The sickening neon lights strobe around them, casting dynamic shadows on the dance floor as they weave through the crowd.

Seizing the opportunity, you grabbed Michelle's hand and broke into a sprint, pushing through the mass of dancing bodies as John's figure faded into the chaos behind them. The lyrics of the song echoed in your mind, driving you forward as you raced toward the safety of the back exit, your hearts pounding with adrenaline. Just before you passed another stage, a man with a red electric guitar caught your eye.

“Go with Bonnie and don’t leave until I get there!” You pass Michelle's hand to your old friend. He had appeared out of the crowd with his easy smile and a cheeky look in his large green eyes. His long turquoise hair was tied into two pigtails with his bangs framing his cheekbones. He waved to both of you before grabbing the older woman's hand and bowing slightly to her.

“I got you, lady. Go take care of business.” He spun Michelle close to him before joining the other musicians on stage. You breathed out a sigh of relief before turning around.

"Up in the club with my homies, trying to get a lil' V-I

Keep it down on the low-key (low-key)

You should know how it feels (hey!)"

As the pulsating beats of the music filled the air, [Name] materialized before John like a phantom emerging from the shadows. She offered him a curt nod of acknowledgment before speaking, her voice cutting through the cacophony of the club.

In the midst of the chaotic crowd, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Fancy meeting you here," she quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she assessed him with a knowing gaze. "Got business with me?"

John's response was a simple nod, his expression unreadable as he regarded you. His expression guarded yet determined. Your outfit had changed as well as your makeup. You were smaller than he had anticipated, yet there was an undeniable aura of danger that surrounded you, casting a mesmerizing allure that drew his gaze. Your eyes, bright with a fierce determination, practically glowed with an intense energy as you regarded him with an intensity that sent warm tingles down his spine.

He knew he had to tread carefully with you, aware of the danger that lurked beneath your composed facade.

With a heavy sigh, you glanced around at the innocent club-goers, your mind racing with the implications of the encounter. Professionals had standards, after all. With a resigned eye roll, you gestured for John to follow you, leading him towards the center of the dance floor.

As they weaved through the pulsating mass of bodies, their exchange grew heated. Your eyes flashed with defiance as you warned John of the consequences of meddling in your affairs.

"Leave, or I'll burn this club down around us," you spat, your tone laced with a deadly promise.

John, caught off guard by your forwardness, couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration for your unwavering resolve. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn't resist testing your waters.

“What about your little friend in the red wig?”

The mention of Michelle ignited a fire within you, your anger simmering just beneath the surface. You offered John a sweet smile and for a moment he forgot himself as he looked into your eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the club he could tell the pictures didn’t do you justice.

Too bad for him. Without hesitation, you delivered a swift heel to John's crotch, a silent warning that spoke volumes.

“ FUCK ! ”

As John winced, doubling over in pain. Looking up, he realized that in the second it took him to look down, you had already vanished. Leaving him cursing under his breath as he pushed through the throng once more. “ Bratty little- ”

“Over here!~”

John redirected his attention to a nearby dance stage, where the music beckoned them with its seductive rhythm. With a playful smirk, you mouthed the lyrics of the song, your movements fluid and enticing while unbuttoning your suit jacket.

"I saw this shorty, she was checking up on me

From the game she was spitting in my ear

You would think that she know me (know me)

She's saying 'come get me' (come get me)”

Mouths moving in sync with the lyrics, you tantalize John with a mesmerizing display of movement. You drop the jacket past your ass before dipping low in a squat position. Your back arching gracefully as you wiggle, accentuating the curve of your backside before picking your body back up again. You give him a coy look before using your finger to gesture for him to come forward.

“So I got up and followed her to the floor

She said, 'baby, let's go'

When I told her (let's go)

I said..."

Unable to resist the challenge, John approached you with a confident stride, his gaze fixed upon you with an intensity that made your heart race. As he drew nearer, you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between his dark imposing figure and the vibrant club you found yourselves in.

He was just another name in the network. Who were you kidding, he was even better in person. The booyman’s killer himself was here with you tonight. You should've been shitting bricks in all honesty.

Maybe it’s because you fancy strange people. Maybe it was the thrill of danger or perhaps the remnants of your past experiences, but you found yourself slightly drawn to this man. Yes, he was here to kill you.

Yet, there was something magnetic about him, something that drew you in despite the unease that prickled at the back of your mind. His eyes, deep and penetrating, seemed to hold a world of secrets, sparking a flicker of danger that sent a thrill down your spine.

You held his gaze, your own eyes glowing with a fierce determination as you sized him up. Despite the tension between you, there was an undeniable attraction—a clash of wills that promised an exhilarating dance of power and intrigue.

You were not going to hand your life over without a fight. And you were certain this man in front of you was going to give you one hell of a challenge.

‘ Wonderful.~ ’

Finally, John stood before you, his eyes betraying a cold distrust. You offered him an apologetic smile before leaning close to his chest, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne and aftershave. It was a heady mixture that only added to the tension crackling between you.

God, he even smelled wonderful.

With a subtle gesture, you indicated for him to come closer. John paused, his curiosity piqued, before leaning down to your level so you didn’t have to strain your voice over the crowd and booming music, his ear mere inches from your lips. The wisps of his hair tickled your cheeks and nose as you leaned in, your voice a seductive whisper against his ear.

He looked even better up close.

“ Cat and Mouse ? ” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin, the words dripping with both challenge and invitation.

John's thoughts swirled with conflicting emotions as he stood face to face with you in the midst of the pulsating club. Your doe eyes, wide and pleading, bore into his, casting a spell that momentarily clouded his resolve.

For a fleeting moment, he found himself ensnared by the vulnerability reflected in your gaze. The softness in your eyes seemed to whisper of a hidden depth, a complexity that belied the fierce exterior you presented to the world.

Sensing his hesitation, you held his gaze, silently beseeching him to grant you this small reprieve. It was a subtle yet powerful plea, one that tugged at something deep within him, stirring a sense of empathy he hadn't anticipated.

As the song's beat thumped around you, you pressed closer to John, your small frame fitting against his chest. The man was large, easily clearing almost 3 feet over you. And his body was sooo tense.

You tilted your head, resting your cheek against his chest, and looked up at him with a pleading expression. Your lips formed a delicate pout, and your doe eyes, wide and shimmering with a mixture of mischief and innocence, gazed up at him imploringly.

John felt a rush of unexpected emotion. Your expression, so sweet and vulnerable, stirred something deep within him, something he hadn't felt since his wife, Helen, passed away. He was momentarily transported back to a time when life was simpler, when the love he shared with Helen was the center of his world.

The softness of your pout, combined with the warmth of your cheek against his shoulder, created an almost intimate connection. He could tell without your heels that you’d barely reach his chest. He continued to look down at you without moving his neck. Your soft hair was tickling his jaw and he wasn’t sure if it was your perfume or shampoo that smelled so heavenly.

You looked up at him, your eyes, full of a pleading innocence, seemed to search his soul, seeking understanding and compassion. It was a look that disarmed him, breaking through the hardened exterior he had built over years of loss and survival.

John's hand, almost instinctively, moved to gently rest on your waist. The sensation of your warmth, the delicate way you leaned into him, brought back memories of quiet moments with Helen, of her gentle touch and the way she could calm him with just a look.

His resolve wavered. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel, to remember the man he used to be before his world was shattered. Your presence, your expression, brought a flicker of that old self back to life, if only for an instant.

As the music played on, the world around him seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you in that moment. Your cute pouty expression and the innocent way you rested your hand on his chest had reached a place in his heart he thought was long buried, awakening feelings he had almost forgotten existed.

With a resigned sigh, John relented, his resolve crumbling in the face of your silent entreaty.

" Until the song ends ," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of the music.

Before he could reconsider his decision, you used this moment of hesitation to your advantage. With a swift, graceful movement, you tipped backward and vanished into the crowd, leaving him to navigate the chaotic dance floor in search of you. John sighed, knowing this was just the beginning. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the dancing masses, and began his pursuit.

The memory of your doe eyes lingered in his mind, haunting him as he moved through the throng of bodies. It was a gaze he couldn't shake, one that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Despite himself, John found himself drawn into the exhilarating game, the tension between you crackling in the air like electricity. With each passing moment, he grew more determined to catch you, even as you skillfully eluded his grasp, slipping through his fingers like smoke.

As the song remixed, John's resolve hardened once more, his focus sharpening as he redoubled his efforts to capture you. But even as he closed in, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this encounter was far from over.

The game of cat and mouse unfolded, John found himself drawn further into your orbit, the intensity of your gaze imprinting itself upon his memory. In that fleeting moment, he realized that there was more to you than met the eye, a depth and complexity that intrigued him in ways he couldn't explain.

You moved through the throng of people like a ghost, your soft frame slipping easily between bodies. John followed, using his height to his advantage to keep you in his line of sight.

You felt his presence behind you and grinned. Turning abruptly, you pressed yourself against a pillar, letting him walk past you before you tapped his shoulder. John spun around, only to find you already disappearing into the crowd again. He couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of frustration and admiration.

“ So she's all up in my head now

Got me thinking that it might be a good idea to take her with me

'Cause she's ready to leave (ready to leave now) "

John's mind raced. He couldn't let you slip away, but the playful, taunting glances you threw over your shoulder were making it difficult to stay focused. You were enjoying this, turning the chase into a game.

He saw you again, near the bar, and made his way through the dancers. Just as he was about to reach you, you darted away, leaving him standing there, momentarily bewildered. Then he felt a slight tug at his belt. His hand immediately went to his side – one of his knives was gone.

“You’re losing your touch, Mr. Wick,” you called out over your shoulder, your voice carrying a hint of laughter. You waved the blade at him teasingly before pocketing it for later.

“ (Let's go)

And I gotta keep it real now

'Cause on a one to ten, she's a certified twenty

But that just ain't me, hey-”

John frowned, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You won’t get away that easily.”

“You're just here to kill me, aren't you?” you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you darted through the crowd again.

John's lips tightened. “That’s for me to know.”

You stopped briefly, turning to face him. “So you always follow ladies from the bar to the club on a first meeting or am I just that special?”

John hesitated. “It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe, I think it is,” you said, and before he could respond, you were gone again.

“'Cause I don't know, if I take that chance

Just where's it gonna lead

But what I do know is the way she dance

Makes shorty alright with me (hey, hey, hey)

The way she get low-"

Turning your back to John, you spun away from him, your back arching gracefully as you dropped low, showing off the curve of your backside. John’s eyes followed your every move, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something in his gaze—hesitation, maybe even desire.

With a tantalizing sway of your hips, you picked it back up and strolled further into the dance floor. The air crackled with tension as John's body lingered, his desire warring with his sense of caution.

‘No.’

He found you again, this time near one of the dance stages. You were smiling, eyes glittering with mischief and danger. “Come on, Mr. Wick. Let's see if you can keep up!”

“ She asks for one more dance, and I'm like "yeah"

How the hell am I supposed to leave? (Let's go, bring the beat back!)

And I say ”

The song blared, and John couldn’t help but smirk.

You led him on a chase through the club, sometimes allowing him to get close before slipping away again. Each time, you’d taunt him, your fingers brushing against his hips, your laughter ringing in his ears.

It was infuriating and exhilarating.

Just as the moment intensified, your beeper went off again, cutting through the tension like a knife. You glanced at it and then back at John, a smirk playing on your lips. “It seems I have to go, Mr. Wick. Until next time.”

Before he could respond, you dashed for the exit. John lunged forward, his hand catching you by the hips. The music pulsed around you, the crowd cheering, thinking it was part of the act.

“(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!)”

You twisted in John's grip, your body moving in perfect sync with the thumping beat of the music. The crowd around you roared, forming a tight circle and transforming the dance floor into a stage for your impromptu battle. John's strong hands held you steady, but you weren't about to let him win so easily.

Spinning around to face him, you locked eyes with John, your expression fierce yet playful. His gaze was intense, filled with determination and, perhaps, a hint of admiration. The dance was not just a dance—it was a duel, a battle of wills played out through the rhythm and movement.

“Up in the club with my homies, trying to get a lil' V-I

Keep it down on the low-key (low-key)

You should know how it feels (hey!)-”

John stepped forward, his movements sharp and precise, his body language commanding and powerful. He reached for you, but you spun away, your body fluid and graceful, evading his grasp. The crowd’s cheers grew louder with each expertly executed step.

You countered his advances with a series of quick, intricate footwork, your body weaving through the air like a dancer in a deadly ballet. Each spin, each twist, was designed to keep him off balance, to keep him guessing. John responded with equal fervor, his movements growing more aggressive, more urgent.

He lunged, trying to trap you in his arms, but you ducked and rolled under his reach, springing back up with a teasing smile. The crowd erupted in applause at your daring move. John’s eyes flashed with a mixture of frustration and admiration, the heat of the moment stoking the fire between you.

“I saw this shorty, she was checking up on me

From the game she was spitting in my ear

You would think that she know me (know me)-”

In a daring move, you stepped close, your chest brushing against his as you stared up at him. The tension was palpable, a mix of challenge and undeniable attraction. Before he could react, you spun away, your hands grazing his shoulders as you moved, a fleeting touch that left him momentarily stunned.

John recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing with renewed determination. He mirrors your movements, his body a shadow to yours, matching your pace and intensity. The two of you circled each other, the dance floor your battlefield, the music your weapon.

You didn’t give him a chance to recover. With a quick movement, you slipped behind him, your fingers brushing against his holsters. You lifted them deftly, tucking them away before he even realized what you had done.

John turned, his eyes widening slightly as he realized he was unarmed. You gave him a cheeky smile, your eyes practically glowing with danger as you regarded him. He lunged at you again, but you were ready, moving with the beat, teasing and taunting him.

“(Yeah!) Yeah!

Shorty got down low and said "come and get me"

(Yeah!) Yeah!

I got so caught up, I forgot she told me-”

With a sudden burst of energy, you launched into a series of rapid spins, your hair flying around you like a halo. John stepped back, momentarily caught off guard by your display of agility. Seizing the moment, you closed the distance between you, your body pressing close to his as you moved in perfect harmony with the beat.

John’s hands found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you into a complex series of lifts and turns. You responded with equal fervor, your legs wrapping around his waist as you twisted and spun, using his strength to propel your movements. The crowd's cheers reached a fever pitch, the energy in the room electric.

“So I got up and followed her to the floor

She said, "baby, let's go"

When I told her (let's go)

I said-”

John watched, a mixture of frustration and anger crossing his face. You dropped back into the throng of dancers, blending in seamlessly. He pushed through the crowd, trying to keep sight of you, but you were already slipping away.

John cursed under his breath in Russian, feeling around his pockets with growing frustration. His hand came up empty where the marker should have been.

"Damn it," he muttered, realizing Amelia's marker was missing. He cursed again, more vehemently this time, as the weight of the situation settled on him.

On top of being an evasive little brat, you also had sticky fingers.

“So I got up and followed her to the floor

She said, "baby, let's go"

When I told her (let's go)

I said-”

You maneuvered your way through the club, your eyes scanning for Bonnie and Michelle. They were waiting near a door in the wall, their expressions tense. You could see the worry in Michelle’s eyes, the determination in Bonnie’s. Turning around, you saw your dance partner practically parting the ocean of people behind you.

“Shit!”

You ran through the floor, almost toppling the bystanders while Bonnie punched a code into the door, the keypad beeping urgently as he worked. He grabbed you and Michelle, yanking you through the opening before slamming in a new code to shut it shut. Just as the door began to slide, you could see John closing in, his eyes locked onto yours with a burning intensity.

You reached the door a split second before John, your heart pounding in your chest. With one last defiant glance back at him, you blew him a kiss, the gesture both taunting and strangely intimate. The door swung shut, Bonnie and Michelle slipping through behind you. The sound of the door closing echoed through the narrow hallway, a stark finality that cut you off from John and the chaos of the club.

Breathless and tense, the three of you paused. The narrow hallway was dimly lit, the sounds of the club muffled but still palpable through the thick walls. Michelle’s eyes, red-rimmed but fiercely determined, met yours.

“What now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, yet brimming with urgency.

You glanced at Bonnie, who was already moving, checking the security of the door. "We keep moving," you said, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "We need to get to the extraction point."

Bonnie nodded, his expression grim. “We don’t have much time. John’s not going to let this go.”

You took a deep breath, your mind racing. The memory of John’s intense gaze lingered, a reminder of the close call. You couldn’t afford to dwell on it now. "Let's move," you said, leading the way down the hallway.

As you hurried through the dimly lit corridors, your senses were heightened, every sound and shadow scrutinized. The air was thick with tension, each step echoing in the silence. You could feel Michelle and Bonnie close behind you, their presence a small comfort amidst the anxiety.

Reaching a junction, you paused to get your bearings. Michelle squeezed your shoulder, her touch grounding you for a moment. "We're almost there," she said, her voice a mix of hope and fear.

You nodded, pushing forward. The extraction point was close, but so was John. You could almost feel his presence, a relentless force closing in. The adrenaline surged anew, sharpening your focus.

Finally, you reached the end of the corridor, a door marked with an emergency exit sign. Bonnie quickly punched another code into the keypad, the door unlocking with a soft click. You pushed it open, leading the way into the cool night air.

As the three of you emerged into the alleyway, you could hear the distant sounds of the club, the thumping bass a reminder of how close you still were to danger. A black car was waiting, engine idling. The driver, Bonnie's older brother, Freddy, gave you a curt nod.

“Hurry!” he urged, glancing nervously at the alley entrance.

You and Michelle slid into the back seat while Bonnie took the front. The car sped off, tires screeching against the pavement. You leaned back, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to calm your racing heart.

Michelle looked at you, her expression a mix of relief and lingering fear. “Do you think we lost him?”

You opened your eyes, meeting her gaze. “For now,” you said, your voice resolute. “But we need to stay alert. John’s not someone who gives up easily.”

As the car sped towards the airport, you couldn’t shake the image of John’s eyes, the intensity of his stare. The encounter had been too close, too intense. But you had made it out, and for now, that was enough.

At the airport, you boarded a private jet, the tension finally beginning to ease as the plane took off. As you settled into your seat, you pulled out the marker, tracing over its intricate design. A small, triumphant smile played on your lips. John had underestimated you tonight, but you knew the game was far from over.

Michelle sat next to you, her gaze fixed out the window. “What’s next?” she asked softly.

You looked at her, the determination in your eyes mirrored in hers.

John Wick was formidable, but you had something more important. And nothing, not even the infamous John Wick, would stand in your way.

“We take you home and I take out the trash.”

The plane soared into the night, leaving the chaos behind. But in your mind, the game with John was just beginning.

John's phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw Nick's name flash. Answering the call, he heard Nick's voice, but something was off.

"John, it's Nick. Listen, I need you to come back to the mansion. There's... something important we need to discuss."

John frowned, his instincts tingling with suspicion. "What is it, Nick?"

Nick's voice faltered slightly. "Just... come back to the mansion. You'll see."

Before John could press further, the line went dead. He stared at the phone, unease settling in his gut. Something wasn't right.

As John was contemplating his next move, another call came in, this time from the Bowery King.

"Hey, John. Made it to Japan in one piece," the King said, his voice low and calm. "How about we get some ramen?"

John recognized the code immediately. "Sounds good. Where?"

"Meet me at the usual spot."

—-

John entered the dimly lit izakaya, the atmosphere thick with the aroma of simmering broth and grilled skewers. He spotted the Bowery King and Shimazu Koji seated in a private booth. The three men exchanged nods as John settled into the booth, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly in the familiar presence of allies.

"John," the Bowery King greeted, his eyes twinkling with curiosity and concern. "What happened tonight?"

John leaned back, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "I was chasing her—the one they call 'The Fawn.' They weren’t kidding about her. She's elusive, agile. Looked young, but incredibly professional."

The Bowery King leaned forward, curiosity etched on his face. "What was she like?"

John narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why are you so interested?"

"Because you're interested," the King replied smoothly. John nearly choked on his water, coughing to clear his throat.

John's lips twitched into a rueful smile. "She was good. Used the crowd to her advantage. Managed to lift my knife and marker without me noticing. Made me dance with her before she took off."

The Bowery King chuckled, a rich, throaty sound. "You got beat in a dance fight? I would've paid to see that."

Shimazu Koji, who had been quietly listening, nodded thoughtfully. "I've heard of her. She’s been seen around Japan, keeping a low profile. Frequenting dance clubs and high-end shops, never causing a stir but supporting the business quietly."

John's mind raced, replaying the evening's events. "She's not just an assassin. There's more to her."

Koji sipped his sake, his expression contemplative. "No doubt. Those who underestimate her pay the price."

John took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Koji's. "She's been burning down all evidence of her existence. She's dangerous and valuable to her family. And if I don’t get to her first, God only knows what’s going to happen to her."

“No offense John, but I think she can handle herself out there.”

Koji leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And you're bound by your marker to bring her back. But she lifted the marker off you?"

John nodded, his expression grim. "Yeah, she did."

The revelation sent a ripple of concern through the group. The Bowery King and Koji exchanged worried glances before the King spoke up. "That's serious, John. Without that marker, you're at risk. She could give it to anyone and that’s the last thing we need."

“She took my guns too.”

“ DAMN !”

“John, did you even try to put up a fight?”

“What didn’t she take?”

“Don’t you start now, too.”

“It’s not my fault you were too busy flirting with the target- OW !”

The Bowery King rubbed his arm while Koji leaned in, his tone serious. "Maybe you should let her stay away. Pursuing her could be more dangerous than it's worth."

John shook his head. "I can't. She's too valuable. And besides, she's been erasing her tracks meticulously. She's up to something."

The Bowery King sighed, running a hand over his face. "Alright, we need to go back to the Morales estate. Figure out our next move from there."

Koji placed a reassuring hand on John's shoulder. "I'll stay in Japan and keep an eye out. If she pops up again, you'll be the first to know."

John nodded, gratitude and determination mixing in his eyes. "Thanks, Koji."

The three men clinked their sake cups together, as they dug into their steaming bowls of ramen, the conversation continued, weaving together their knowledge and insights to uncover the truth and stay one step ahead.

—

Meanwhile, thousands of feet above the ground, you and Michelle were safely aboard a plane heading back home. The hum of the engines provided a soothing backdrop as you traced your finger over the intricate design of John’s marker, lost in thought.

Michelle leaned over, her eyes still red but filled with determination. “We’re safe for now, but what about when we land?”

You looked up from the marker, meeting her gaze. “I’ve got everything arranged. We’ll be met by a secure team. Just stay close to me and follow my lead.”

Michelle nodded, her trust in you unwavering. “Thank you.”

You smiled slightly, trying to offer some reassurance. “Family doesn’t say ‘Thank you,’ Michelle.”

You reach over and place your hand over hers. “We’ll get through this, Micky. We’ve been through worse.”

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “I know. I just... I worry.”

You placed a comforting hand on her arm. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

As Michelle closed her eyes, trying to get some rest, you turned your attention back to the marker. Its design was intricate, almost mesmerizing. The weight of its significance wasn’t lost on you. John Wick was a force to be reckoned with, but you had your own strengths, your own skills.

And now, you had his marker.

You wondered what he would do once he realized it was gone. Would he come after you with even more determination, or would he take a step back to reassess? Either way, you knew you had to stay one step ahead.

The plane continued its journey through the night sky, a temporary haven from the chaos below. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts in your mind. This was far from over.

Your thoughts drifted back to your family, an ever-present weight on your mind. Memories of your childhood, the laughter, the arguments, and the bonds that held you together, floated through your consciousness. You traced the design of John’s marker absently, the intricate patterns both a comfort and a reminder of the peril you were in.

You had always dreamed of being a lawyer, of standing in a courtroom and fighting for justice. The thought brought a wistful smile to your lips. You imagined a life where you could have pursued that dream without the shadow of your family's expectations looming over you. A life where you could have made a difference in the world, using your skills to help those who couldn't help themselves.

Your mind wandered to John. You knew he had a wife once, that he had temporarily retired from the assassin’s life to be with her. Something had happened to bring him back, though. You wondered if he ever thought about having a family again, if he ever wished for a return to a normal life. The marker in your hand felt heavy with meaning, a symbol of the life he couldn’t escape.

You understood him.

You didn't burn Nick’s apartment down to destroy evidence. It was already empty, stripped of everything that made it a home. You had gone there to say goodbye to the place that was once your home. Your fingers traced the spot under the bed where you had carved your name as a young girl, a childish claim to a space that had felt like yours alone. How your little mind had worked back then. But it was over now, and even the light filtering through the window hurt your eyes.

You burned down Nick’s old apartment because it was a loose end, a place tied too closely to your past. It wasn’t just about evading capture; it was about severing ties, about cutting away the parts of your life that could be used against you. But the guilt lingered, an unwelcome companion. Too many memories. Too much grief.

Training with Nick had given you the confidence to take down any man who tried to harm you, but it also meant he kept you locked up tight until they sent you off to Cordelia. A shudder ran through you at the thought of it, a nightmare from Hell you could never forget. You placed John's marker down, your fingers lingering on its cool surface. That woman had been a torment, but you had survived.

You always survived.

You glanced over at Michelle, her peaceful expression a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you. You thanked God that she was safe, that she could rest even if just for a moment. You whispered a silent prayer for forgiveness for what you did, what you had done, and for what you were about to do.

You hoped that somehow, in the end, it would all be worth it.

Your mind drifted back to the apartment, to the countless hours spent training with Nick. The memory of his stern face, the pride that occasionally softened his features when you mastered a new skill, was etched deeply in your heart. But there was also the pain of confinement, the loneliness that gnawed at you almost your whole life. The light through the window of that apartment had once been a symbol of hope, now it was just a painful reminder of a past you couldn't reclaim.

You felt a complex mix of emotions—anger at the chaos that had engulfed your life, sorrow for the innocence you lost, and a fierce protectiveness for those you loved.

You glanced over at Michelle, her platinum hair peeking out from the wig in the dim cabin light. She was asleep, exhaustion etched into her delicate features. Gently, you tucked your suit jacket over her, offering a small semblance of comfort. Your heart ached with the knowledge that she was pregnant and didn’t want to tell Nick. The thought of bringing a child into this chaotic world was terrifying, but you understood her reasons for keeping it secret.

Joselyn and her husband, Haris, came to mind next. They wanted to have kids but couldn’t, not with the constant chaos and danger that surrounded your family. She tried to fill that motherly roll for you even when it was smothering at times. Haris was a good man, he lived up to his name and was never once unkind to you. To you, he may as well have been your blood brother.

It wasn’t fair.

Then there was Amelia’s children, Levin and Malachi, innocent lives caught in the crossfire. Your little God-children, that you picked up from school everyday and who trusted you with every fiber of their little beings. Who make you cookies when you're sad and always give you their art projects for your office. Your annoyance with Aaron, Amelia’s husband, always so self-righteous and insufferable. And David, with his loving quirks and teasing attitude, always trying to take the heat off of you.

You missed them all, despite the anger that simmered beneath the surface. You were terrifyingly angry with all of them, with your elders who had orchestrated this mess, the high-table that protected them, and with yourself for not being able to break free. You just wanted your parents, the sense of security and unconditional love that only they could provide.

But they could only do that if you died tonight and met them again.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. You couldn’t afford to be weak now. There was too much at stake. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions.

The marker in your hand was a cold reminder of the mission ahead, but also of the strength you possessed. Looking at Michelle, you felt a swell of determination. First, you would get her home safely.

Then you would deal with John Wick. One step at a time.

You would ensure her child was born into a world with at least a sliver of peace. Your own dreams of being a lawyer, of fighting for justice, seemed distant now, almost unattainable.

But you wouldn’t stop fighting for your right to live life.

As the plane continued its journey, you leaned back in your seat, closing your eyes for a moment. Just a moment. The storm of emotions inside you was overwhelming, but you channeled it into cold resolve. You would fight for yourself, for your dreams, and for the future you wanted.

“I will fight. I will protect. I will survive.”

No matter the cost.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was long as shit, also posted on my ao3. If you see any mistakes just let me know. I don't have an editor yet.

Please check out my other works posted in the master list.

Tag list: @littledebbieinabigworld @treedaddymcpuffpuff

Part 1: Can be found right here.

Thank you both for the sweetness!! <<33

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