By the time the Cadillac pulled up in front of The Continental, it was already eleven at night.
White exterior walls, black cast-iron fencing, and two brass wall lamps beside the entrance that seemed to burn year-round.
The Continental had stood in New York for decades.
From the outside, it looked like nothing more than an old private club.
Nate turned off the engine but didn’t get out right away.
He glanced at Henry in the back seat through the rearview mirror.
The old man still had his eyes closed.
His breathing was slow and even, and the Glock rested on his thigh with the muzzle pointed toward the door.
His jacket collar sat crooked, and a few strands of gray-white hair hung across his forehead.
He looked like nothing more than an ordinary old man who had fallen asleep during a long ride.
Lily sat beside him with her hands clasped tightly together.
She hadn’t stopped staring at her father, as if she were seeing him for the first time.
“Henry, we’re here,” Nate said quietly.
Henry opened his eyes.
His gaze swept across the street outside, and the tension gradually left his body.
Within moments, he was back to being the hunched old man Nate knew.
If anything, he seemed even more stooped than usual.
“Mm. We’re here.”
Henry opened the door with slow, stiff movements.
He bent forward, planted one foot on the pavement, then carefully brought the other out before shakily standing upright.
He looked nothing like the man who had fired four shots beneath the moonlight only minutes earlier.
Lily immediately hurried over to support him.
“I’m getting old. At some point, you have to admit it.”
Henry thumped his lower back twice.
The old injury there had started acting up again after the intense fighting.
As Nate got out of the car, he took a quick look around.
There were no other vehicles on the street.
The streetlights stretched their three shadows far across the pavement, all the way to the foot of the hotel’s steps.
Nate slipped a hand into his pocket and touched the gold coins.
Their cold weight reminded him that everything that had happened was real.
He was still alive.
He had killed seventeen people that day.
He’d taken a few injuries, but he’d survived.
Even now, the whole thing felt strangely unreal.
Maybe he’d crossed some kind of threshold in his head.
Or maybe seeing Henry suddenly reveal what he was capable of had shaken him more than he’d realized.
Either way, the day was finally over.
The three of them climbed the steps.
Lily walked on the far right, staying close beside her father.
Henry moved slowly, pausing briefly with each step.
Nate pushed open the entrance.
The old-fashioned lattice doors opened automatically, and the faint scent of cedar drifted toward them.
The chandelier still cast the same warm, restrained light over the lobby.
The front desk stood directly ahead.
Charon was behind the long counter of dark marble, dressed in his usual immaculate suit.
Every time Nate saw him, the man looked exactly the same.
A faint smile, an unhurried manner of speaking, and an effortless elegance that made his voice pleasant to listen to.
Charon had been looking down at something on the counter.
At the sound of the door, he raised his head.
When he saw Nate and Lily, his expression didn’t change.
He merely gave them a small nod in greeting.
Then his gaze moved past them.
It settled on the hunched old man behind them.
Charon’s hand froze in midair, a fountain pen still held between his fingers.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then he gently set the pen down, placed both hands on the marble counter, and straightened.
His expression turned solemn.
Charon stepped out from behind the desk and walked directly over to Henry.
The two men looked at each other.
“Mr. Wang. It’s been a long time.”
Charon’s voice was as deep and composed as ever.
But Nate heard something different beneath it.
Respect.
The kind that didn’t need to be explained.
Henry looked up at him, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile.
“It’s been a long time, Charon. When did the hotel get renovated?”
“The year before last. Only the appearance changed,” Charon replied with a smile.
“The last time you were here, the underground shooting range was still under construction.”
“You still had a beard back then.”
Charon smiled and blinked once.
“Yes. My wife wasn’t particularly fond of it, so I shaved it.”
Their conversation was so casual that they sounded like two old neighbors catching up after running into each other at the market.
Nate, meanwhile, was listening in stunned silence.
An underground shooting range?
And the way they spoke to each other…
Henry’s standing at The Continental was clearly much higher than Nate had imagined.
But that didn’t make sense.
Henry wasn’t in the movies.
And why had someone like him gone off to run a restaurant?
At that moment, Winston emerged through a doorway at the far end of the corridor.
He wore a black three-piece suit.
His hair was meticulously styled, there were surprisingly few wrinkles on his face, and his eyes remained bright and clear.
He looked at least ten years younger than his actual age.
Winston was the manager of The Continental and, in many ways, the true heart of the hotel.
Nate had seen him deal with all kinds of hitmen in the lobby before.
He was always polite, composed, and impossible to fault.
But this time, Winston was different.
The instant he stepped into the corridor, his eyes went straight to Henry.
He walked over.
The two men looked at each other for a moment.
Winston smiled first.
“My friend. The last time I saw you, that back injury wasn’t nearly this bad.”
Henry looked at him and gave a soft chuckle.
“Can’t argue with age. You’re not exactly young anymore either, old friend.”
“Time does fly.”
Winston’s gaze drifted away for a moment, his tone faintly nostalgic.
“You haven’t changed much. Have a drink with me later?” Henry asked.
Winston smiled.
It was a natural, genuine smile.
He extended his right hand, palm open, fingers spread.
He waited.
Henry looked at the offered hand for a moment, shook his head, then slowly raised his own and slapped his palm against Winston’s.
Winston’s smile softened.
He closed his hand around Henry’s, then placed his other hand over it as well.
He held on for several seconds before finally letting go.
“The same room as before?” Winston asked.
“Fine.”
Winston turned and nodded toward Charon.
Charon had already returned behind the front desk.
He tapped a few keys, opened a drawer, and took out a key.
He placed it on the marble counter and gently slid it toward Henry.
“Third floor. The suite at the end of the hall,” Charon said.
“The same one you used to stay in.”
Henry picked up the key, held it in his palm for a moment, then slipped it into his pocket.
Nate stood nearby and watched everything.
The way Winston treated Henry wasn’t the way someone treated an ordinary guest.
It was the way someone greeted an old friend they hadn’t seen in years.
That much was obvious.
Winston smiled.
“There aren’t many people left at the hotel who still recognize you. As for the shooting range downstairs, we eventually implemented all the suggestions you made back then.”
“Did you ever fix the vent on Lane Five?” Henry asked.
“We did. The guns you left behind are still there too. Charon always insisted we keep them as a memento.”
Henry silently shook his head.
He said nothing more.
Lily hadn’t spoken since entering the hotel.
From the moment she’d stepped inside, she’d known something was wrong.
Her wide eyes kept moving from one person to another, taking everything in.
This wasn’t an ordinary hotel.
That wasn’t an ordinary receptionist.
And Winston certainly didn’t seem like an ordinary hotel manager.
As for her father, he clearly wasn’t an ordinary father either.
It was as though the world she’d known had suddenly become unfamiliar.
She gently tugged at Henry’s sleeve.
“Dad… what exactly is all this?”
Henry looked down at his daughter.
He raised one hand and gently patted the back of hers where she held his sleeve.
He didn’t answer.
Winston understood.
He gave Charon a slight nod.
“Send a pot of hot tea to the third-floor suite, along with some basic necessities.”
Then he looked at Henry.
“You’ll probably be staying for a while. Go upstairs and get some rest. Whatever needs discussing can wait until tomorrow.”
His voice remained calm.
“You’re safe here.”
The words were spoken casually, but Nate understood what they meant.
It was Winston’s promise.
More than that, it was The Continental’s promise.
From the moment they stepped through those doors, they were standing on some of the safest ground in the world.
No one was permitted to kill within The Continental.
Henry gave a small nod.
He didn’t thank Winston.
Some things didn’t need to be said.
He turned and slowly made his way toward the elevator.
Lily immediately followed, taking his arm to support him.
Winston watched Henry leave, then turned his attention back to Nate.
He smiled.
“Care to talk?”
“Sure.”