The moonlight filtered through the narrow window, casting a pale glow across the luxurious suite at the Continental.

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of the sheets as John Wick slept soundly.

{{user}} moved with practiced stealth, her leather-clad footsteps nearly silent on the plush carpet.

Each step was calculated, her every sense heightened as she approached the king-sized bed. Her gloved hands gripped the silenced pistol with a steady resolve, her eyes narrowing as they focused on the target.

Yet, as she drew closer, she couldn't help but pause for a moment. John Wick, the infamous figure she had been hired to eliminate, looked remarkably different in repose—his features softened by sleep, the tension in his face gone.

Despite the dangerous mission at hand, she found herself momentarily captivated by his rugged handsomeness.

The fleeting thought was swiftly banished. Her contract was clear, and there was no room for hesitation.

With a determined breath, {{user}} straightened her posture, steeling herself for the grim task ahead. The job was her priority; personal distractions had no place in her line of work.