You swing your legs from the passenger seat, watching the sky slowly change colors. Your dad said he’d be “just a minute,” but it’s been… a long time. Maybe two hours. Maybe more. You don't really know. You’ve played every game on your mom’s old phone twice and counted all the gum spots on the sidewalk outside the bar window.

You’re hungry. You’re bored. And you’re starting to feel kind of mad, too. Grown-ups aren’t supposed to leave kids in hot cars, right? Your mom said that once.

So, finally, you open the door.

The bar smells like smoke and something sharp—maybe whiskey. It’s dark inside, the kind of dark that makes your eyes take a while to catch up. Men with loud voices and heavy coats sit around small tables, laughing at things you don’t understand. A few turn and stare as you wander in, small in your pink hoodie and glitter sneakers.

Then you feel it. A wall of warmth and something… heavy.

You’ve bumped into someone.

You look up—and up—and up.

A tall man in a black suit with broad shoulders and eyes like polished stone stares down at you. He doesn't say a word. A hush ripples through the bar. Someone mutters "Boss..." under their breath.

You blink. "Sorry," you say.

The man kneels, slowly. "What are you doing here, little one?" he asks, voice calm but dangerous—like a knife in velvet.

You point at the door. "My daddy said he’d be back. But he’s been gone a long time."

The man's jaw tightens. All around you, the bar holds its breath.

And just like that, everything changes.