Chapter 1: Regret.

The iron gates of Blackgate State Penitentiary creaked open with a sound that echoed louder in Bari Magnar's — "Hawk" — chest than any bell. After twenty-five years behind cold, grey walls, he finally stepped into the sunlight — but freedom did not feel like victory. It was heavier than he imagined.

Outside, the world bustled and roared, but Bari moved slowly, as if feeling his feet touch the ground for the first time. His hair was streaked with grey; lines etched deep into his weathered face and hands. The prison had stolen a lifetime from him, but the fire in his eyes — that stubborn flame of will — still burned bright.

His first instinct was to find them — the family he had left behind, the people he had fought for with every breath. The family he had sacrificed everything to protect.

He carried a letter in his pocket, one he had written years ago, sent to his wife in hopes of reconciliation, hope for a future. Now, it was a relic of a life that had slipped through his fingers.

The streets had changed — unfamiliar names on street signs, new buildings clawing at the sky — but the heart of the neighborhood, the soul of the city, still pulsed in the same broken rhythm. Bari made his way to the address he'd memorized, each step heavier than the last.

The door was answered by a woman whose eyes held a cautious hardness. She was not the wife he remembered. A stranger.

"Can I help you?" she asked, voice clipped.

"My name is Bari… Bari Magnar. I used to live here. I'm looking for my family."

The woman's eyes flickered with something — pity? Fear? — before she sighed. "They're gone. Your wife and daughter moved house years ago."

Her hesitation lingered in the air like a shadow, and Bari pushed himself to ask, "Can you tell me how to find them?"

She fumbled with the keys in her hand. "Their old house… It's just a few blocks from here, but… you should know, things haven't been easy for them."

Bari nodded. His heart pounded, the old ache stirring anew. He didn't expect warm welcomes — only the truth.

The walk was slow, each step heavy with anticipation and dread. The neighborhood had aged, like everything else. The paint was peeling, the fences sagging, and the gardens that once burst with life were now overgrown with weeds.

When Bari reached the house, his breath caught. The door hung crooked, paint chipped away by rain and time. The mailbox was dented, its flag hanging limply. It smelled of dust and neglect.

He knocked softly. No answer.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.

The silence was suffocating.

He moved through the rooms — the faded wallpaper peeling like old scars, a cracked photo frame on the mantelpiece showing a younger version of his wife and daughter smiling, frozen in happier times.

A voice broke the stillness.

"You're not welcome here."

Bari turned sharply to see his daughter standing in the hallway. She was taller now, her eyes sharp and guarded. The years apart had forged a wall between them thicker than any prison bars.

"Ella," Bari said gently. "I'm here… I just want to see you."

Ella's lips pressed into a thin line. "You left us. You didn't fight for us when we needed you. You weren't here."

Bari's throat tightened. "I didn't leave by choice. I took a vow, an oath for the cartel I could not refuse. I took the fall so you could live without fear."

She shook her head bitterly. "Your fall destroyed us. Mom couldn't pay the bills alone. She got sick and died last year. And my uncle… he's gone. He… didn't make it either."

Bari's fists clenched at his sides, the pain slicing deeper than any prison sentence.

"What about the cartel? Did you not ask them for help?" he whispered. "I told you to seek their aid if something happened; they promised to protect you if I took the fall."

Ella's eyes filled with tears, but her voice was steady. "I tried, I did. They brushed me off as if I meant nothing, as if you meant nothing."

Bari's anger surged like a wildfire, burning away the last traces of his calm. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. "So they threw us away like trash," he growled, looking at the ground, voice low and sharp. "After everything, after all the promises."

Bari wanted to grab something, someone, and tear them apart, limb from limb. But he calmed down after locking eyes with the sapphire blue orbs he once fell in love with.

"It's okay," Bari said as if it would fix everything. "I will handle it, everything wi—" His words were cut off by Ella before he could say more.

"NO! I already bought a new house, found myself a boyfriend, and…" Her voice trailed off into a silent whisper. "I'm finally getting things back together. Don't ruin anything for me."

Bari stepped closer and hugged her, speaking in a soft but firm voice. "I know you may not want anything to do with me, but no matter what you think, you're my daughter. And I love you. Always." His tone was loving yet resolute, as if she were his greatest treasure — because she was.

For a moment, the anger faltered in her eyes, and tears rolled down her cheeks. The walls cracked just enough for hope to seep through.

But then she stepped back and turned away, footsteps fading down the hallway.

Bari stood alone, the weight of years pressing down, but the smallest spark of a chance — a chance to rebuild.