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"𝐈'𝐌 never eating another bagel again," Kaitlin groaned, dragging her suitcase across the pavement outside LAX.

"Liar," Farrah said with a smirk. "You cried actual tears over that one in SoHo."

"I was emotional," Kaitlin said. "And it had truffle cream cheese. Truffle. Cream. Cheese."

"I just want my own bed," Whitney added, adjusting her sunglasses on her face. "And to stop living out of a suitcase."

Brooke nodded in agreement as they moved toward the waiting black limousine. "New York was magic. But I missed this air."

Whitney nodded, adjusting her ponytail. "Even the smog smells like home."

"Same," Kaitlin said, slipping on a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses. "New York was amazing, but I need palm trees and drive-thru iced lattes back in my life."

Farrah wheeled her suitcase behind her, pausing to soak in the Valley skyline. "It's weird how loud New York was. Like, loud in your soul. L.A. has its own chaos, but it knows how to whisper."

Landon rolled his shoulders as he followed the girls, Mason yawning beside him. "Tell that to my ears. They're still ringing from that underground club with the LED floor."

Beth chuckled as she helped Landon lift a suitcase into the trunk. "The Valley may not have couture rooftops, but it's got something better—parking."

"Praise be," Lana said, tossing her bag in. "And beaches."

Mason stretched his arms behind his head and grinned. "And no subway rats."

Whitney wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Ew."

"Still better than midtown traffic," Landon said. "I aged six years on the FDR."

"Can't believe we made it through a full week in heels. We lived a whole mini lifetime in Manhattan." Kelly said, sliding into the limo and sitting down.

"Barely," Whitney muttered, rubbing her ankle. "I almost lost a toe."

Kaitlin crawled into the limo, tucking herself next to Kelly. "You staying with us?"

Kelly grinned. "Already called dibs on the guest room."

"Spoiled," Brooke muttered with a smirk. "But fine. You earned it."

As the car pulled away from the curb, and merged onto the 405, the chatter quieted for a moment. The skyline of Los Angeles stretched into view, sun-drenched and comforting.

Beth glanced over at Missie, who was staring quietly out the window. "Have you heard from Johnny?"

Missie didn't turn. Her voice was steady, but something in it had shifted. "Bobby told me he got arrested. Two nights ago. Bar fight."

The silence in the SUV grew heavy.

"Oh my God," Brooke said softly.

"What happened?" Kathy asked.

"Same old Johnny," Missie said, finally looking over. "Got drunk. Got angry. Hit someone. Or someone hit him. Doesn't really matter, does it?"

Farrah frowned. "Did uncle Bobby say if he's okay?"

Missie gave a dry laugh. "Define okay."

Kaitlin reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. "I'm so sorry, Aunt Missie."

Missie's eyes softened. "He's unraveling. I could see it in his eyes before we even left for New York."

"Maybe this is the wake-up call he needs," Lana said quietly.

"I don't know," Missie said.

"Still," Beth said gently. "You've always seen the good in him. That matters."

Missie nodded slowly. No one spoke for a beat. The hum of the highway filled the silence. After a few minutes, chatter filled the limo with talk if In-N-Out runs, texts from Sam, and new updates from Amanda. But Missie leaned her head against the cool window, the rush of the freeway lulling her into a fog.

"You okay?" Lana asked gently

Missie didn't open her eyes, "Yeah. I think... I think I just need to go home. Water my plants. Let things be quiet for a bit."

"That's not nothing," Lana said.

Missie murmured, "No, it's everything."

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Daniel pulled up to Johnny's apartment complex, and parked his Audi. As he stepped out and reached for his phone to call Johnny, the sound of jangling keys caught his attention. Johnny appeared, holding a six-pack of beer, his expression unreadable.

"John, don't you even answer your ph—" Daniel cut himself off when he saw the shiner on Johnny's face. "Oh God, what happened to you?"

"I bumped my head. What do you want?" Johnny snapped, his tone sharp.

"I went to your dojo and saw your old sensei. What the hell happened? I thought you said he was gone," Daniel replied, concern giving way to frustration.

"I don't want to get into it right now. I have a headache, and I need some sleep," Johnny muttered as he turned toward the door.

"I got a lead on Robby. I thought maybe you'd like to help. The whole reason these kids got into trouble was because of us. We can't let them suffer because of our issues. The only way to end this is by working together," Daniel said, his voice steady. "So what do you say?"

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"I still can't believe we pulled it off," Kaitlin said, gazing at the framed photo on the coffee table—their runway collection frozen mid-stride, the models fierce, bold, and draped in color.

The girls—Brooke, Whitney, Kaitlin, Farrah, and Kelly—had swapped their Christian Louboutins for fuzzy socks and traded silk for sweats and oversized tees. They were curled up on the plush beige couches in Whitney and Kaitlin's living room, surrounded by iced teas, half-eaten macarons from the flight, and the warm buzz of post-show adrenaline.

Brooke kicked her feet up on the ottoman. "Twelve looks. Eight models. One hell of a lighting malfunction. And you girls still slayed."

"Slayed is putting it mildly," Farrah said, running her fingers through her loose brunette waves. "We didn't just walk—we conquered."

Whitney grinned. "Please. We didn't just slay. We slived."

Kaitlin turned to her sister, brow raised. "What the hell is sliv?"

Whitney rolled her eyes. "Slaying and living. You get sliving. Keep up, Kait."

"Ugh," Kaitlin groaned. "You spend one week in L.A. and come back a whole TikTok."

Farrah laughed, then turned to Brooke. "Hey, have you heard anything from Aunt Missie?"

Brooke shook her head. "Uncle Bobby said Johnny got bailed out, but no one's really heard much since. He's totally off the grid."

Kaitlin's voice softened. "He probably blames himself for what happened to Miguel. And now with Kreese taking over the dojo... it's a mess."

Brooke sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Just from everything Mom's told me... Kreese is dangerous. I don't get why Johnny brought him back in the first place."

"Maybe he thought people could change," Whitney said quietly, tucking her knees beneath her. "But some people? They're wired for chaos. There's no rebooting that."

Kelly, who'd been unwrapping another macaron, tilted her head. "Okay, but like—who is this Kreese guy anyway? Some kind of James Bond villain?"

"No," Brooke said, setting her iced tea on the side table. "Worse. He was Johnny and the uncles' sensei back in the '80s. He ran Cobra Kai like it was a military boot camp. He abused them. And after they lost the '84 tournament, he snapped. Tried to choke Johnny out in the parking lot. Threatened to go full 'open season' on Mom, Uncle Dan, and Mr. Miyagi."

"What a psycho," Kelly muttered, wrinkling her nose.

"No kidding," Farrah said. "Uncle Tommy once told me Kreese made them do knuckle push-ups until their hands bled. Called it 'building grit.'"

Kelly's eyes widened. "That's straight-up psychotic. And now he's in charge again?"

Brooke nodded grimly. "He manipulated his way back in. Took advantage of Johnny's guilt and the dojo's growing success. Then, when Johnny blinked, he took over everything."

Farrah leaned back with a sigh. "It's like every time things start to look up, he comes crawling back. Like a virus."

"Or a cockroach in camo," Whitney added.

Kelly's brows furrowed. "Is he seriously trying to raise a new generation of Cobra Kais? After everything?"

"That's the scary part," Brooke said. "He is. And some of those kids? They don't even know what kind of poison they're drinking."

Kaitlin shook her head slowly. "It's like history keeps repeating itself."

Brooke smiled faintly, tapping her nails against her glass. "Let Kreese keep playing games. Some of us were raised by champions."

The girls exchanged glances—not heroic, not dramatic, just knowing. Just them.

Whitney raised her glass. "To good tea, good fashion, and not putting up with creepy old senseis."

"Cheers to that," they all echoed, laughter echoing softly against the walls.

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"Here, got you a juice," Daniel said, handing Johnny a bottle as he stirred awake in the passenger seat. "Advil's in the glove compartment."

Johnny eyed the juice suspiciously. "It looks like sewage."

"Well, suck it up. If we want to find Robby, you might wanna be awake."

"Well, drive faster then. I feel like I'm in a rocking chair," Johnny grumbled.

Daniel smirked sarcastically as Johnny opened the glove compartment, rummaging for the Advil. He popped the pills and washed them down with the juice, groaning in disgust. Then, with a swift flick, he turned on the radio and cranked up some '80s rock.

"Knock it off," Daniel said, immediately turning the volume back down. "We're on a mission."

"What are we supposed to do? Drive around all day looking for a van?" Johnny asked.

"We have a mutual friend that can hopefully point us in the right direction."

Daniel pulled into the parking lot of the rehab center where Shannon was staying. As they walked through the front yard, they passed people practicing yoga and painting under the sun.

"This is what rehab's like?" Johnny asked, glancing around.

"This is one of the best facilities in the country," Daniel replied, opening the front door.

Two women with shoulder bags walked by, and Johnny gave them a nod and a smile. "Hey."

Daniel grabbed his arm. "Focus, will ya? We're here on business, not pleasure."

"Welcome to Malibu Canyon Recovery!" a woman greeted them warmly. She turned to Johnny with a kind smile. "You're doing a very brave thing."

Daniel opened his mouth to clarify, but Johnny cut in, visibly annoyed. "What? No, I'm not checking in. I'm no quitter."

"I understand. It can be hard at first," the woman said sympathetically, then looked at Daniel. "He'll get used to it."

"I'm sure he will," Daniel chuckled.

"Yeah, laugh it up, LaRusso," Johnny muttered.

Just then, Shannon appeared. Daniel greeted her with a warm smile. "Shannon."

Her face lit up. "Hi! It's so good to see you." She embraced him.

"You too," Daniel replied.

"Tell Amanda I said thank you. That lavender essential oil she sent really did help with my insomnia."

"You still going to the kudos and concerns meetings on Wednesdays?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, I am," Shannon nodded.

Johnny cleared his throat to make his presence known. Shannon turned to him.

"Hi, Johnny."

"Hey," Johnny said. "You look good."

"You... too," Shannon replied.

"Thank you."

Shannon chuckled softly. "When Daniel said he wanted to talk about Robby, I wasn't expecting to see the two of you together."

"Yeah, well... whatever it takes to find our son," Johnny said.

"I really wanted to take a break from here to look for him, but my life coach advised me against it."

"Your life coach?" Johnny repeated incredulously. "Might as well be setting your money on fire."

"You know, Johnny, rehab has done wonders for me," Shannon said, her tone shifting. "It works for a lot of people, actually."

"I'm glad you're doing better. I really am. But I don't need some rehab vacation." Johnny said

"That's because your idea of vacation is going to some monster truck show," Shannon snapped.

"Hey, Truckasaurus was badass and you loved every minute of it," Johnny shot back.

"I was faking," Shannon said flatly.

"Bullshit. I know when you're faking—" Johnny started.

"Guys," Daniel cut in before things could escalate. "We just need to know if you have any idea where Robby might've gone when he got the car. You know him best."

"All I know is whenever Robby got in trouble, those dimwits weren't far behind," Shannon said.

"What dimwits?" Johnny asked.

"Uh, one looks like Chris Brown and the other one looks vaguely... Latin."

"Great. Tweedledumb and Tweedledumbass," Johnny muttered. "How are we supposed to find those dirtbags?"

"I know where they are," Daniel said.

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After visiting Shannon in rehab, Daniel and Johnny drove to a juvenile detention center to see Trey and Cruz—the two Robby used to run around with.

"Worse than rehab, nicer than jail," Johnny muttered, taking a seat at the table

"Just let me do the talking," Daniel said, eyeing the guard across the room.

"We're not selling Bimmers to soccer moms, LaRusso. This is my world. Follow my lead," Johnny shot back.

Moments later, a guard brought out Trey and Cruz. He shoved them roughly into their seats across the table.

"Bitch-ass Kevin James-looking punk," Cruz muttered under his breath.

Johnny snapped his fingers at them sharply. "Hey—morons!"

"Hey, what?" Cruz replied lazily.

"We're looking for Robby," Daniel said firmly.

Trey and Cruz exchanged a smirk, then looked back at the two. "If you three are the search party," Trey said, chuckling, "then he's pretty screwed."

Johnny leaned forward. "Start talking or you'll be drinking your toilet wine through a straw."

"Ooooh, Robby's daddy talking a big game," Trey mocked. "You think we're scared of you?"

Johnny stared them down. "You should be."

Cruz snorted. "I don't think so, man. Look at your face—you already look like you got your ass beat."

"Enough!" Daniel daid, slamming both palms on the table, and the boys froze the boys mid-laugh. "Cut the crap and tell us everything you know about Robby."

Trey held up his hands. "Okay, alright! Damn, man, relax. We didn't mean any disrespect."

"Sorry, Mr. LaRusso," Cruz added sheepishly.

Johnny looked offended. "What the hell? You listen to him and not me?"

"He knows how to kick ass," Trey said, earning a chuckle from Daniel.

"Yeah, and he ain't no punk-ass bitch," Cruz added with a smirk.

Johnny had had enough. He reached across the table and smacked Cruz across the face.

"Johnny, what the hell?" Daniel snapped.

"He just hit me!" Cruz yelled to the guard, who barely lifted a shoulder.

"You don't see that?" Trey asked incredulously.

As Cruz turned back around, Johnny hit him again.

"All right, enough!" Daniel scolded.

Johnny shrugged. "Better start talking. I can do this all day."

Trey threw his hands up. "No—hey, hey, that's not necessary, man! Look, we all used to scam people at Tech Town in Panorama City. He knows his way around there, all right?"

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "You'd better be telling the truth. Or else, I'm sending him back alone, next time."

As Daniel and Johnny stood up, Johnny leaned in with a smirk. "You might wanna get your friend here a tampon."

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Sheila set a mug down on the table and poured the coffee with practiced ease. "So... how was New York?"

Missie wrapped her hands around the warm mug before answering. "It was really great. The girls were glowing—seeing their designs on the runway like that? It meant everything to them."

Sheila smiled as she slid into the chair across from her. "I saw a few pictures on Brooke's Facebook. Looked incredible."

Missie nodded, her eyes softening at the memory. "It was. For a moment, everything just felt... right."

They sat in a brief, comfortable silence. Sheila reached for a sugar packet, then glanced up, her tone careful but curious. "So... have you heard from Johnny lately?"

Missie blinked, caught slightly off guard. She lowered her mug slowly. "No, but... Bobby called while I was in New York."

Sheila's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Yeah?"

Missie hesitated, then sighed. "He told me Johnny got arrested."

Sheila froze mid-stir, her spoon clinking against the side of her cup. "Arrested? For what?"

Missie exhaled slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Bobby didn't go into detail, but... I think everything with the school fight finally got to him. You know, Miguel getting hurt, Robby kicking him over that railing—it was a lot."

Sheila's eyes widened. "Robby did that?"

Missie nodded solemnly. "He didn't mean to... but yeah. Miguel's still in the hospital. And Johnny's been blaming himself for all of it. He's been carrying that guilt around like it's chained to his chest."

Sheila shook her head, frowning. "That poor boy. And Johnny too."

"He tried so hard," Missie said quietly, her voice thick. "Tried to do right by those kids. But I think seeing Miguel fall like that—seeing Robby make that choice—it just broke something in him."

Sheila reached across the table and placed her hand over Missie's. "And where does that leave you, sweetheart?"

Missie stared down at their hands for a long moment. "I don't know. Part of me wants to run to him. I'm scared he's sinking, and I can't pull him out."

Sheila gave Missie's hand a gentle squeeze. "Then don't try to pull him out all at once. Just... be there. Not to fix him. Just to remind him he's not alone."

Missie's throat tightened. "As his friend?"

Sheila nodded. "Yes, as his friend. He needs one right now. And you've always been that for him, even when things were messy."

Missie swallowed hard. "It just hurts seeing him like this."

"I know it does," Sheila said softly. "But if anyone can sit beside him in the dark, it's you. Just don't forget to take care of your own heart while you're at it."

Missie gave a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Mom."

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Daniel gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he caught Johnny in his peripheral vision, casually tossing a corn nut into his mouth.

"Can you be careful with those?" Daniel asked, trying to keep his tone even. "I don't want to be digging them out of the upholstery for the next five years,"

Johnny raised an eyebrow, leaned a little too close, and crunched another one—loudly—right in Daniel's ear.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Thanks." He shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. "You know, we need to talk about what we're gonna do when we find Robby."

Johnny didn't even hesitate. "He's my son. I'll talk to him."

Daniel let out a breath. "That's always gone well," he muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" Johnny asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing," Daniel sighed.

Before the sarcasm could spiral into a full-blown argument, Daniel's car rang out with a crisp ringtone from the Bluetooth speakers. Johnny looked around in confusion.

"Your car's ringing," Johnny said, clearly baffled by the tech.

Daniel pressed the button on the steering wheel. "Hey, honey."

"Hey," Amanda's voice rang through the speakers. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the car. Johnny Lawrence is with me," Daniel said.

"Oh, hi Johnny!" Amanda chirped brightly.

"Oh hey Amanda!" Johnny leaned way too close to Daniel again

"Alright, you know what, lean back. You can just talk normally." Daniel said

Amanda laughed. "You'll never believe this, Daniel. Whit, Kait, and Fairy's line just got scouted at Fashion Week."

Daniel's eyes widened. "Wait—seriously?"

"Yes! Elle and W magazine. They saw the girls' capsule collection at the SoHo showcase and loved it. Called their designs bold, modern, and visionary."

Daniel couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. "That's incredible. I'm so proud of them. Hey, we got a new lead on Robby," he added, voice shifting back to the moment.

"A lead?" Amanda echoed. "What are you, Tango and Cash?"

Johnny straightened in his seat. "No, Tango and Cash were narcotics detectives. This is a totally different thing."

"Oh, I'm sorry. My mistake," Amanda replied dryly.

"We're on the trail now," Daniel explained. "Just need to check out this info."

"Yeah," Johnny added proudly. "Scumbags at the prison gave it up easy. A couple of pussies."

"What the hell? Did you just say prison?" Amanda's voice rose with alarm.

Daniel scrambled. "We were just talking to a couple of guys who knew Robby."

Johnny shrugged like it was no big deal. "Yeah, they wouldn't talk so we had to smack them around a little bit."

"You did what?!" Amanda shouted.

"I didn't smack anyone around, honey," Daniel said quickly. "It was more of a good cop–bad cop situation."

Amanda didn't skip a beat. "Actually, it's more of a no cop situation. You do realize neither of you are cops, right?"

"Yeah, but we got the information we needed," Daniel said.

"The guy coughed it up like a chicken bone," Johnny added proudly. "He cried."

"Okay, I'm against this entire operation," Amanda said, her voice tight.

"We just need to find him before the police do," Daniel said. "I don't want this kid's life to get destroyed if I can help it."

There was a pause on the line.

"I know, Daniel," Amanda said softly. "Just... be careful."

"I will," Daniel said. The call ended with a click, and Daniel sighed, shaking his head. "You had to mention the prison, right? Of course you did."

Johnny shrugged. "I'm not lying to your wife for you."

Johnny tossed another corn nut upward. It hit the ceiling, bounced off, and disappeared somewhere on the floor. He immediately leaned over to look for it like it was the most important thing in the world.

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"Cashier hasn't seen him," Daniel said, handing Johnny the food he'd asked for. "Here, I got you what you wanted." He gestured down the block. "Tech Town's just around the corner—we should ask around there."

Johnny barely glanced up as he popped another piece of junk food into his mouth. "Yeah, maybe we can get them to give us the security cam footage."

Daniel shook his head in disbelief, watching Johnny chew. "I can't believe you eat that crap."

"What?" Johnny smirked. "You too good for gas station food?"

Daniel didn't hesitate. "Yeah. I am."

Johnny scoffed. "Yeah, of course you are."

Suddenly, Daniel's phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the screen. A message from Amanda. "Oh, thank God."

Johnny turned toward him, his body language shifting. "Is it Robby?"

"No. Miguel." Daniel turned the screen so Johnny could see the message. "Amanda says he woke up. That's great. Some good news for once, huh?"

Johnny's eyes softened, if only for a moment. "Yeah... it's really good."

A car pulled into the parking lot, catching Daniel's attention. His eyes narrowed. "Hey, wait a second. Isn't that a—"

"It's a Dodge Caravan!" Johnny exclaimed, already stepping forward.

"That's the car. Hey! Hey, you!" Daniel shouted at the driver, who caught their gaze, panicked, and immediately jumped back into his van—tires screeching as he sped off.

Daniel turned in disbelief. "What do you think you're doing?!" he snapped as Johnny slid into the driver's seat.

"Driving," Johnny replied, calm as ever.

"Like hell you are!" Daniel snapped.

"Fine, I'll go without you!" Johnny shot back

Daniel groaned and climbed into the passenger seat just as Johnny stomped on the gas.

"Just take it easy!" Daniel exlaimed, bracing himself as the car swerved onto the street.

Johnny weaved around traffic, determined. "Man, this thing can fly!"

"Easy, leadfoot. Just follow him," Daniel warned, eyeing the road nervously.

Johnny slammed the gas pedal. "He's not getting away from me."

"Red light! Red light! Red light!" Daniel shouted, heart in his throat as Johnny flew through the intersection. "Jesus, slow down! C'mon, take it easy!"

"Relax. I'm a great driver," Johnny said, just before clipping the side mirror of a parked car.

"Look out!" Daniel yelled.

Smack. The sound of impact was unmistakable.

"Oh, that's just perfect!" Daniel groaned

Johnny barely flinched. "Ah, you got insurance."

The chase led them to the outskirts of town, to a dilapidated industrial park surrounded by chain-link fences and rusted dumpsters. The van screeched to a halt outside an abandoned warehouse, and the driver bolted inside.

Johnny jumped out without hesitation. "Look alive. We gotta pursue on foot."

Daniel stared at him. "On foot? Wait—what? No. No foot! Hey Johnny, this has gone far enough!"

But Johnny was already gone. Daniel swore under his breath, then climbed out and ran after him. Minutes later, they stormed out of the building, voices raised and tempers flaring.

"You're the one that came to me, LaRusso!" Johnny yelled, pacing toward the car. "Don't do it again!"

"Yeah, don't worry, I won't!" Daniel shot back. "I can't believe you actually taught kids!"

Johnny turned, eyes sharp. "Yeah, you're some great teacher—look what happened to Robby!"

The words hit Daniel like a gut punch, but he stood his ground.

"I'm willing to admit when I fail, okay? And maybe I did. Maybe he just has a little too much of you in him."

Johnny didn't respond—just turned and walked toward the Caravan.

"Where you going?" Daniel called after him.

"I got somewhere to be!" Johnny shouted, slamming the door and peeling off.

Daniel stood alone in the lot, heart pounding. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration spilling over. He then got back in the audi.

"Hello? No, no, it's just me. Johnny's—okay, okay, slow down. All right. I'm on my way."

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Upon walking into the rehab center, Daniel saw Shannon, standing beside a worn picnic table where Robby sat, slouched and distracted, a half-eaten sandwich untouched in front of him.

"It's gonna be okay, Robby," Shannon said gently, her voice full of urgency masked with motherly calm. "We'll figure this out. I promise. I'll be right back, okay? Just keep eating."

She gave her son a quick glance, then turned and walked quickly toward Daniel, the weight of exhaustion heavy in her expression.

"Is he okay?" Daniel asked, brow furrowed.

"He's not right," Shannon said immediately, her voice low and shaky. She looked between Daniel and the boy behind her. "He's talking like he's gonna leave town or something. Please, you have to help him."

"I will, but you gotta trust me here, all right?" Daniel said, his tone reassuring but firm.

Shannon nodded, stepping aside as Daniel approached Robby slowly. The kid looked up, wary, distant—hardened by everything he'd been through in too short a time.

"Hey, nice cut," Daniel offered, trying for levity.

Robby didn't smile. "I'm sorry you've been stuck cleaning up my mess. I'll pay you back for the van."

"I didn't think that van was your style anyway." Daniel shrugged lightly, crouching beside the bench. "I know it must've been rough on your own out there."

Robby's eyes flicked down to his hands. "Is Sam okay?"

"She's...worried about you," Daniel said, softening. "We all are. Your dad too. Robby, I need to apologize to you."

But Robby shook his head. "But I caused all this. I kicked Miguel—"

"I know you blame yourself, but I let you down." Daniel interrupted, his voice tightening with regret. "What I said to you the last time we saw each other was terrible. I'm so sorry."

"But you were right," Robby said bitterly. "It was a mistake trying to help me. I can't change."

"We all make mistakes, Robby," Daniel said. "But our mistakes aren't who we are. You can learn from your mistakes. And I'll help you with that. I will."

There was a beat of quiet—one where time seemed to hold its breath—before Daniel continued, his voice low and steady.

"Listen... this next part is gonna be really, really hard, okay? But this is the best way forward. I spoke to a lawyer and he explained that it's—"

The sudden screech of car tires and the flashing red and blue lights brought the conversation to an abrupt halt.

Robby stood sharply as two police officers stepped onto the property.

"What did you do?" he asked, panic rising in his throat.

"I told them you would turn yourself in," Daniel said quickly. "Trust me, the sentence will be much lighter this way."

"No, no, no. I can't!" Robby's voice cracked, his body backing away instinctively.

"You can, and you have to, Robby." Daniel stepped forward carefully.

"You kept me talking so I wouldn't leave," Robby said, realization blooming in his eyes like betrayal.

"No, I was trying to help you," Daniel said, reaching out—but it was too late. Robby turned to bolt, but one of the officers caught him by the arms.

"Hey! Hey—easy with him!" Daniel shouted, moving forward, his protective instinct kicking in.

Robby struggled, but the cuffs clicked around his wrists. He looked back at Daniel, pain and fury etched into every line of his face.

"Robby, this is only temporary. I will get you through this, okay? I will visit you every day, I promise."

But Robby wouldn't look at him.

"Don't bother," he muttered coldly, just before the officers led him away.