Chapter 283: John Wick Prequel (1)

"I bet my life and beg for your help."

William, wondering if Yuri Orlov was being cuckolded, turned to see John Wick suddenly bowing his head calmly, bending his right knee, and lowering his body.

"Wait," William quickly interjected as John Wick steadied himself before completing the knightly gesture, looking up at William in confusion.

John Wick knew that in order to gain something, one must give something in return. He had no personal ties with William, and other than his life, he had nothing else to offer that could persuade William. So, he intended to perform the knight's kneeling ceremony to express his submission.

"FK, if you kneel, I'll drive off immediately."

Damn it, if you kneel, William thought, there's no way I'll be able to sleep tonight. Fans of Neo, Wick, and the John Wick series will definitely curse me in my dreams.

Losing a steady light arms supplier and the network behind him versus gaining a top-tier assassin—William didn't take long to make his choice.

A mere killer isn't worth as much as Yuri and his network, but since John Wick could be considered under his command, not even making a phone call wasn't how a boss should behave.

"FKU, John Wick, you'd better pray that Yuri Orlov loves money more than face, otherwise, I can't help you either."

As John Wick looked at him with nervous eyes, William tapped his left ear, where an invisible earpiece was hidden. Immediately, Sunday's voice came through. "Sir?"

"Check if Yuri Orlov and his wife have divorced."

"One moment, Sir."

Half a minute later, Sunday responded, "Sir, I found multiple reports confirming that Mr. Orlov has indeed divorced. According to several New York local media outlets, it's suspected that Mr. Orlov hid assets. Mrs. Eva received very little in the divorce settlement and was left with the debt of the Fifth Avenue marital home. Overall, she's deeply in debt, and the child is under Mr. Orlov's custody."

William was speechless. Yuri was a ruthless man, showing the typical cold-blooded nature of an arms dealer towards a woman he no longer loved. Leaving empty-handed would have been better than being saddled with debt.

But since Eva's situation was so dire, William felt there was still a chance to persuade Yuri.

"Dial Yuri Orlov's number."

"Beep, beep, beep."

As soon as the call connected, Yuri's cheerful voice came through. He wasn't even the least bit angry that his top client, William, was calling so late at night.

"Good evening, Mr. Devonshire. How can I be of service?"

"Good evening, Yuri. I'm calling to ask how you want the payment for the helicopter rental in Malaysia handled—cash or overseas transfer?"

William glared at John Wick. If this bastard hadn't cuckolded Yuri, there'd be no need for such pleasantries.

"It'd be most convenient if it were cash. Although overseas transfers are safe, it's a hassle to move the money back to the States."

"Okay, I'll arrange for you to receive the cash, just like we did in Africa."

"Thank you, Mr. Devonshire."

After this, William fell silent. After waiting a few seconds, Yuri spoke up, "If there's anything you need, just say the word. If it's within the scope of light arms, I can handle it."

"Well...," William hesitated, unsure how to broach a subject that touched on a man's pride.

"Mr. Devonshire?" Yuri gently prompted after several seconds of silence.

After a few moments of thought, William finally spoke, "Ah... I'm sorry, Yuri, but someone has asked me to relay a message. They want to negotiate peace with you. If you're willing to call off the hunt for John Wick, they're willing to compensate you."

Yuri remained silent for so long that William began to think his silence was a refusal. But then Yuri's deep voice finally broke the silence, "I didn't expect you to be connected to the Continental, Mr. Devonshire. This surprises me."

"Mm... so you know his identity?"

"Yes. Anyone who can survive three assassination attempts from a squad composed entirely of retired SEALs and Rangers is no ordinary person. I naturally investigated him. New York is my home turf; it wasn't too hard to dig up information on someone active here."

"Then, I want to know if you're willing to negotiate. As a man, I understand why you did what you did. But as a friend, let me remind you that since John Wick didn't know your ex-wife during your marriage, and your divorce wasn't because of him, you're not in the right morally. There's no rule that says you can hunt him, but he can't hunt you back. After surviving three assassination attempts, he reached out to me as a friend to send you a message, and he's even willing to compensate you. This shows he's already giving you a lot of face."

After a few seconds of silence, Yuri asked, "Mr. Devonshire, before I respond, I want to know how they found out it was me."

William wasn't about to tell Yuri that he figured it out just by looking at Eva's face, using his System. "Haha, Yuri, you're the best when it comes to arms dealing, but you're out of your league when you venture into other fields. Your biggest mistake was hiring SEALs as assassins. SEALs might be good at war, but their methods as assassins are too unprofessional. A trained eye can immediately identify their background, and from there, it's easy to trace back to who hired them. New York isn't just your turf; the Continental's network is no less powerful than yours. Buddy, since the other side is giving you so much face, if you continue, it'll be a fight to the death. While you may be known as the 'Lord of War,' the Continental has no shortage of assassination kings. There's no need to make enemies over a woman."

"Ah, it seems I really am out of my depth in other fields. Mr. Devonshire, since you're intervening, I can call off the hunt for John Wick, but I have one condition: he must assist me three times when I need him."

"Great. Since you're open to reconciliation, let's drop the three favors. The Continental isn't going to hand over one of its top assassins to be at your beck and call. I think $5 million should be enough to soothe your wounded pride. How does that sound?"

"Heh, even if I didn't agree, what could I do? Maybe I could use wealth and status to pressure John Wick, but in front of you and the Continental, I'm just a small fry. The people behind me wouldn't go to war with the Continental over me.

Mr. Devonshire, to be honest, my divorce wasn't because Eva had a third party. I don't have any complaints about her. If there's anyone to blame, it's me for marrying a woman who wasn't right for me. And thanks to your warning, I was prepared, and Eva didn't take advantage of me. I couldn't care less about how she lives her life now.

But what I can't accept is that she showed our son a video of her traveling with John Wick. What is she trying to do? FK, she acts like a saint in front of me, but turns into a lovesick fool for that pretty boy. She knows John Wick is a killer, yet she still chose to be with him. Why didn't she act saintly when she was with him? Why didn't she report that killer to the police?

FK, does she think I'm so ugly that it's unbearable, or did I fail to satisfy her in bed?

So, Mr. Devonshire, pass this message to John Wick for me: I, Yuri Orlov, curse them both. May he live in eternal chaos and slaughter, forever repenting, and may she die the moment she finds true love."

The call ended with the sound of Yuri smashing his phone.

William sat in the car, silent for a long time. Yuri was indeed ruthless, and his curse was eerily accurate. Thinking about the fates of Eva and John Wick, William decided it was best not to provoke Yuri Orlov, who seemed to have the devil's blessing.

Glancing at the anxious John Wick, William thought, this guy has really fallen into a pit. Not only did he go from a pretty boy to a fat guy in a few years of marriage, but he also lost his wife, his dog, and almost got his brains bashed in by a mob boss's son.

"The problem is solved, but you owe me $10 million. You'll repay it with missions, and your life belongs to me. Any issues?"

John Wick quickly shook his head. He knew the value of money and life very well.

"I heard you're of Russian descent. So, you won't have any qualms about taking down the Russian mob?"

"Of course not, Mr. Devonshire. For me, once I accept a job, the target is just that—a target."

"Good. Keep your phone on 24/7. Wait for my call. Bye." William revved the engine, and the Rolls-Royce convertible shot forward like an arrow.

Back at his hotel suite, William took a shower. Before going to bed, he instructed Sunday to see if they could locate the warehouse full of cash online.

If they could find it, that would be perfect; William could teleport in and clean out the money.

He also had Sunday discreetly order a batch of prop money labeled "for stage use," planning to burn it all after emptying the warehouse, leaving no trace

 behind.

The next evening, at nine o'clock, William arrived at the restaurant on his Ducati R6, right on time. He sat at the same table as the day before.

As soon as he sat down, the owner, Jacob, brought over a pot of coffee and a slice of Boston cream pie.

William smiled at Jacob, nodded in thanks, and sipped his coffee while reading *The Old Man and the Sea*.

Returning to this restaurant today was partly to confirm whether events would unfold as he remembered and partly to pass the time watching a show. During the day, Sunday had identified several potential warehouse locations through online research and surveillance cameras. The Ducati R6 made it easy to search these locations, and the black helmet helped conceal his identity, avoiding detection by any hidden cameras or people.

After watching the show where the lonely black man cared for the down-on-her-luck Russian girl, William would suggest to McCall that he become the sheriff of Castle Town.

If McCall agreed to become sheriff, William wouldn't mess with him. If he refused, then William wouldn't hold back. If you're not one of mine, there's no need to be considerate.

At nine-thirty, McCall walked into the restaurant right on time, holding a book. As soon as he entered, he saw William sitting at the same table as the day before. He sighed inwardly and spoke briefly with Jacob before walking over and sitting down.

With a serious expression, McCall said, "Let's not beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want."

William put down his book and smiled slightly. "Okay, I need an experienced gatekeeper to be the first line of defense for my family. The official position would be head of the Castle Town police, but secretly, your main job would be to protect my mother from any outside threats while she's at the castle and to ensure that Devonshire Castle remains undisturbed.

I've considered many candidates, and I chose you because someone recommended you. If you agree, you'll immediately get a job with an annual salary of £240,000, and the salary can increase based on your performance."

"Sorry, Mr. Devonshire, but do you know how old I am? My God, if I were you, I wouldn't hire an old man like me as a bodyguard. I'd find someone younger and more professional."

McCall wasn't interested in becoming a rich man's guard dog. To avoid offending William, he played the part of a regretful man, belittling himself. "Whoever recommended me clearly doesn't have your best interests at heart. I'm so old I can barely hold a gun, and my eyesight is bad—I need glasses just to read. As much as I'd love to earn a £240,000 salary, I can't risk ruining things for you out of greed. A bodyguard can't afford to make any mistakes, so I'm sorry."

"Heh." William squinted and smiled. "Robert McCall, age 48, former member of the most elite unit in the US Secret Service, the Black Berets. After your wife's unexpected death, you became disillusioned and faked your death during a mission five years ago. You've been working at a hardware store in Boston ever since.

You have a unique dynamic vision ability, so," William pointed to his eyes, "I'm very sure your eyesight is not only perfectly fine but better than most people's—so good, in fact, that you can use it like slow-motion."

William paused, watching McCall's eyes. But McCall, a seasoned expert, only gave away the slightest sign—a barely perceptible tightening of his pupils.

William continued, "You're in excellent shape, skilled at lethal strikes, and you recently won MVP at the community baseball tournament.

So, not only can you still handle a gun, but you can also swing a hammer with deadly force. I've heard that a serial robber, who had killed several people, was found in his car with his head smashed in by a hammer. This same robber had just recently robbed the hardware store where you work. Perhaps there's more to the story that we don't know. What do you think, Mr. McCall?"

William finished speaking and touched the ring finger of his left hand with his right hand, smiling knowingly at McCall.

McCall wiped his forehead and said, "My God, who are you? How do you know such hidden details? Have you been watching me up close all this time?"

William shrugged. "Sorry, I have no interest in monitoring you. But since someone recommended you, you've been under surveillance. So, rest assured, we only know about your recent activities. Finally, Mr. McCall, if I were you, I'd hear out my offer before refusing."

"Okay, go ahead. I'm listening." McCall spread his hands in resignation. "You rich people are always the most troublesome. As long as you're willing to spend money, there's no information you can't get. I just hope that after you make your offer, you'll leave me alone. Mr. Devonshire, I'm just an old guy who faked his death and retired to live a quiet life."

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