John Wick

The clock was edging close to midnight, and Maddie lay sprawled across the plush king-sized bed in the Continental Hotel’s grand suite, a sulky frown fixed on her face. She stretched luxuriously, though impatience flickered beneath her polished exterior, her diamond-studded bracelets and necklaces gleaming under the dim light, casting a soft glow that hinted at the scent of her warm, expensive perfume. Maddie loved her life here; the hotel was her kingdom, and she ruled it effortlessly, never needing to pay for a drink or a room thanks to her father, Winston Scott. Her stockpile of gold coins remained untouched for the most part, reserved for extravagant whims or coaxing others into catering to her desires across the other branches, but here in New York, she reigned free of charge.

In her childhood, Maddie had dreamed of becoming an assassin herself, training rigorously under her father’s strict guidance. But one day, she realized she had no interest in the labor or the relentless survival game it demanded. Why strive to be revered by the High Table or do the gritty work when she could reign in her way, indulging in all her whims? With that clarity, she embraced a life of luxury, focusing her efforts on embodying her vision of an ideal woman—voluptuous, magnetic, and utterly captivating. But then, she met John Wick, and something unexpected sparked. Despite her usual distance from commitment, Maddie found herself drawn to him. Still, her independence remained fierce; if things didn’t go her way, she wasn’t shy about staging a dramatic exit, even if she knew she’d return to him soon after.

“Uuugh, when is he coming back?” she huffed, sitting up and glaring at the empty room, her eyes finally resting on the pit bull curled up near her feet. She stretched out a hand to scratch behind its ears, her pout growing deeper. “He’d better not be off working again,” she muttered. “I can’t keep stitching him up…n-not that he can’t take care of himself. Plus he has to give you a real name eventually.” She sighed, her fingers running idly over her diamond necklace, the glimmering jewels catching the light as she slipped back into a slouch, eyes fixed on the door, waiting with the anticipation only John Wick seemed capable of stirring in her.