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Alessandra almost sobs with relief as The Continental comes into view but she is a D’Antonio (and a Wick) so she does not. Safety. She just has to get there.
Limping slightly she calmly enters the building and walks to the front desk. A few people seated in the lobby glanced up at her as she past but quickly returned their attention to their phones or newspapers.
The man at the desk politely looked at her as if he was wondering if she might be lost. Ha! Ale is fairly certain there is a trail of blood droplets behind her from the wound on her thigh and her jacket is torn from a knife slash.
“I’m here to see Uncle Winston,” she pauses for dramatic effect (she is her father’s daughter after all), “I mean the Manager. Is he available?”
The man has become flusters although he covers it well and maintains the appearance of calm. Her papochka had told her that ‘Uncle Winston’ was a term given only to few who Winston particularly liked - a personal VIP term. “Who may I say is requesting a meeting?”
Ale subconsciously drew herself up “The daughter of an old friend - John Wick.” Her papochka had told her that her papà’s name would protect her in most places, her papochka’s name would guarantee her safety in The Continental. Winston was an old friend. (Her papochka had also told her that Winston thought her papà was bit of an peacock and didn’t take him very seriously. It had made her giggle.)
At the name John Wick, one of the guests behind her dropped his glass which shattered loudly on the marble floor. Another, with shaking hands, folded and put down the newspaper he had been reading and quickly strode out of the building.
“Yes miss.” The man turns slightly, plucks the phone from the cradle, dials 1 and waits. “Yes sir. No sir. A visitor for ‘Uncle Winston’. Miss Wick sir. No sir. His daughter. Very well sir.” He stands and gestures, “This way miss.”
--
Winston pondered as he waited for John Wick’s daughter. John Wick. Now that was a name he had not heard in quite some time. Were it not for his ‘retirement’, Winston might have approached Jonathan as a successor. He was skilled and overall fairly neutral. Slight rage issues but there are ways to manage those. Ah well. A daughter was a further indication that was not to be the case. His loyalties, impeccable as they are, would be to his daughter and their other parent. His wife? If so, why would their daughter be here? Jonathan would have stayed outside the life for her. No. There must be something else going on here.
--
Winston stood as Alessandra entered the lounge. They were alone. Good. That meant her papochka had been correct and he was taking this seriously.
He pulled out a chair for her, “Miss Wick, please.” A soft smile on his face as she was seated. As he strolled around to sit opposite, “What a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am only sorry that it is under these circumstances.” Frowning he questioned, “What are these circumstances?”
Chin lifted, “Iosef Tarasov saw me at Claudia Giovanni’s sixteenth birthday. I was introduced as my papà’s daughter and he thought at twelve I would be easy to claim and then my papà would be forced into an alliance favorable to the Tarasovs.”
“He thought you were an omega?”
“Yes.”
“What an idiot.”
“Quite. And even if I was, my papà would have just made me a widow and taken over the Tarasov holdings.”
“Iosef was often foolish but this is without a doubt the dumbest thing I have ever seen anyone do.”
Ale grinned, “You don’t know the half of it. Santino D’Antonio is my father.”
Eyebrows raised, “Oh my. Indeed. Dear Iosef is not long for this world.” Waving his hand to dismiss the subject, “Bah. On to more important matters. You will stay in your bearer’s usual room. Very nice without being ostentatious. I will have the doctor look you over. Come, I will take you there myself.”
Winston held out his arm and Alessandra tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. And off they went.
“How is Jonathan these days? It has been quite some time since I have had the pleasure of his company.”
“Papochka is doing well. He and my papà are still dancing around each other. I have full confidence in my papà,” a pause. “My papochka speaks fondly of you. My bearer’s identity has been a secret. Being Santino D’Antonio’s alpha heir is one thing. Being John Wick’s child…”
“Yes I understand the difficult nature of our world.” Winston patted her hand, “Never fear my dear. I hold no grudges and bear no ill will. I am simply...intrigued by the combination of your papochka and your papà.”
Alessandra had heard that her papochka tempered her papà but Winston’s reaction showed just how dramatic the tempering had been.
“Santino D’Antonio and John Wick? Who would have guessed?”
--
“This is Winston. I want to speak to John Wick. No. Let me speak to John Wick or I will ban you from The Continental. For life. Yes I will hold.”
--
Paolo hurried into the council room and held the phone out to John. “Sir. For you - Winston from The Continental.”
John exchanged a glance with Santino who continued pacing and flapped his hand contemptuously. The staff who were assisting in the search paused and looked at him. He took the phone.
“Winston. This isn’t a great time.”
“She is here. I have her in your old room.”
“What? How did my daughter end up at the New York Continental?” Santino turned sharply and it was John’s turn to gesture dismissively.
“Alessandra says that Iosef Tarasov took her.”
“Iosef Tarasov?” At those words several of the staff snapped into action - typing furiously or speaking frantically into their phones. “What did that punk want with my daughter?”
“He thought she was an omega. Tried to bite her.”
“He what. I am going to kill that,” a deep breath, “My apologies Winston. I was not prepared. Parenthood has changed me in ways I was not prepared for. We will be on the first plane out.”
“She will be fine until you arrive. I have had the doctor look at her. She is fine except for a laceration on her thigh and some bruises.”
“Thank you Winston.”
“Jonathan. One last thing. Are you, shall we say, content with your current status?”
Ah. The last time John had spoke to Winston, he was getting out of this world to marry a female beta. Now as Santino D’Antonio’s omega, he was about as in as you could get.
“I’m fine Winston. Life leads to mysterious places and I wouldn’t change anything. Well except you know my daughter being in New York without me.”
--
“John. I have heard that my foolish son has done a foolish thing.”
“He took my daughter on her way home from school. Killed all but her personal bodyguard who is critical condition. He is lucky that the dog was not with them as usual.”
“John, surely we can deal with this rationally out of respect for our past relationship.”
“Viggo, your twenty three year old son tried to put a claim bite on my twelve year old daughter. Thought she would be easy pickings. You can give me your son and out of respect for our past relationship I will only make him wish for agony before he dies. Or I can raize each and every single Tarasov establishment to the ground. Your choice.”
--
“He won’t give up his son. It would make him look weak.”
“I know. But I also already know where that little cazzo is and I am going to kill each and every body that gets in my way.”
“Take Ares -”
“No. Ares goes with you and helps to secure Alessandra.”
“She is at The Continental.”
“That means nothing when enough money is involved. I just threatened to take apart the Tarasov empire and I intend to follow through. How much do you think that is worth?”
--
Santino marched up to the front desk of The Continental. John was a half step behind and Ares a close second. “Where is my daughter?”
John shook his head at Santino and greeted the man at the desk. “Charon. Good to see you. I hope your day is going better than mine.”
“So far so good sir. Young Miss Wick is up on the veranda with the Manager.”
“Thank you.” John nodded and they took off.
--
Ale was having tea with Winston when her parents arrived.
“Alessandra!”
“Papà!” Ale ran into her papà’s arms. He held her tightly and checked her over. Bruised but the skin had only been broken on her thigh. Santino released Ale and John pulled her into his embrace.
“Papochka!”
“I hear someone needs a new nose. Excellent work. I plan to give him a bullet instead.”
“Sounds good to me papochka.”
--
Santino ushered their daughter inside with Ares nodding to John and following - leaving John and Winston alone.
“Thank you again Winston. I’ll settle up at the front desk before we go.”
“Ah no worries Jonathan. Young Alessandra is a pleasure. Quite a credit to her parent, no?” Winston smiled a little at John. “Will you be needing to visit the sommelier or the tailor?”
“No. I brought my own.”
--
John considered every day he could blow up a couple of buildings a great day. (No matter what he might say - he had missed this a little). Having said that, he thought infiltrating the various levels of the Tarasov mafia was supposed to be hard.
John supposed it helped that he did have some inside knowledge from when he had been their employee and that he had kept all of his skills up between training and acting as security for Alessandra (among... other things).
The Red Circle, the Catholic church which held the blackmail, the safehouse...all no longer standing upright once he was finished. This was to be a clear message - touch Alessandra D’Antonio and die.
--
“John. John please. For the sake of what we once were, can we not work this out somehow?” Viggo hated this but he was begging. The god damned Bogeyman. Brought down on him and his by his own son.
“My daughter,” John grits out, “is twelve. For the sake of our previous working relationship, I won’t make all of you die in agony.”
Bang. Bang.
--
[Viggo dies. Abram dies. Iosef dies a little more slowly.]
--
Returning home to the D’Antonio estate eased something in John. Gianna held the public seat in Rome but Santino maintained the heavily fortified estate in the country.
Santino had gone on ahead with their daughter after installing several agents to take advantage of the chaos and then territory of the Tarasovs. Never one to waste an opportunity.
John could not wait to see Alessandra and Santino. He paused. He wanted to see Santino? Who had left him and then dragged him back into this world? Who was also the Santino that had also given him their daughter and walked the dog. Who had brought the mustang over to Italy and insisted on spending at least one meal a day together as a family. Santino may have left John but he had since shown that John was not going to be allowed to leave him. What a spoiled brat. John laughed - he was happy.
Alessandra was asleep in her room. Daisy curled up at her side. The pink cast on her left leg sticking out of the blanket.
In the master, Santino sat up when John opened the door. He had fallen asleep reading while waiting for an update. “John what, you didn’t call -”
John crossed the room and invaded Santino’s personal space. He cupped Santino’s cheek. John hadn’t showered and still smelled of harsh cordite gunsmoke and the sharp tang of blood. He hovered for a second, looking for any hesitation on Santino’s face. There was none.
John pressed their lips together. Once. Twice. Then Santino let out a shaky breath and whispered, “You can’t let me have this and take it back. If you let me have you, you won’t leave this bed without a claiming bite and only death will take us apart.”
“Alright.”
“Alright? You sure? No hesitation?” It was Santino’s turn to study John’s face. There would be no going back from this. “Alright”. He surged forward and flipped John so he was seated firmly with his hands on either side of John’s head. Bending he took John’s mouth. Tongue sweeping in and tasting. Santino groaned as if starved.
Hastily they stripped, barely waiting for an article of clothing to come off before they were tasting, touching, biting. This was not going to last long. Not after waiting so long for each other.
Santino trailed kisses and sucked bites down John’s chest. Swirled his tongue into the dip of John’s belly button and digging his teeth into a hip bone. He slurped up the precome spilling out of the slit on John’s cock and ran his mouth from tip to base and back again. Then he swallowed down John’s cock deep into his throat.
“Christ Santino.” John barely managed to keep from thrusting up into that tight heat. He reached his hands up to tug at his hair. He didn’t want to come from this.
Santino drew off John’s cock and smirked. He pressed a finger to the rapidly forming hickey on John’s hip and traced his fingers down to John’s dripping folds.
John’s hips twitched up and then stilled. He bit his lip and blew out a breath.
Santino dipped his finger into John, crooking until he found that spot causing John to whine. One finger. Then two. Three.
He slid up and waited. John looked ready to come at the seams. “Been a while huh?”
“You asshole.” John growled and pulled Santino down and in. Cock invading cunt.
“Are you ready from my knot John? I am going to fill you until you feel like you will burst and then I will fill you again. You are mine and I am not letting you go. Ever.”
John spread his legs a bit more. “Bring it on pretty boy.”
Pistoning his hips, Santino could feel his knot growing. His teeth ached. He was going to claim his omega. Hips snapping together, John kept getting wetter until he came and squeezed Santino tight. He was thrusting, thrusting … knotting, and biting.
Waiting for his knot to go down, Santino plucked and pulled at John’s nipples. Dipping his head to taste and then dragged his lips up to John’s mouth. He rocked his hips making John whimper as his inner sweet spot was brushed repeatedly.
Testing his knot, Santino disengaged gently and lowered his head once more and sucked his cum out of John’s cut. Swallowing and seeking the sweet taste of John’s slick. John’s moans growing louder and louder until he gushed. Fuck. He crawled up John’s body and crowded up against his body, laying an arm across slim hips.
Head tucked next to John’s, nose in his hair, Santino whispered words of love. John reached out and held his hand.
End / Again and again until our hearts give out
Post Credits Scene
“Regrets?”
“No. Well, one. No condom.”
“Oh” Santino muttered weakly.