The wind howled through the streets of San-Jamb City as Melin moved in the shadows. His heart pounded with every step. He had tracked down the exact location where his father Felin was being held—an abandoned warehouse near the old docks, now controlled by the Ballas Gang under the Red Cult.
Felin was trapped, beaten, and weakened. So was his wife—wounded and barely conscious. Melin had no choice. He had to act, even if it meant risking everything.
He slipped into the warehouse silently through a side door. A stolen handgun was tucked into his waistband. He moved quickly, dodging crates and guards until he saw them—his parents, tied up and guarded by armed men. And standing at the center of it all, watching like a king in his castle, was Fedrick—the same man who once pretended to welcome Melin like a friend.
Without thinking, Melin burst forward.
> "Let them go!" he shouted, aiming his gun.
Chaos erupted.
Bullets flew. Melin managed to shoot a guard in the leg before diving behind cover. He crawled to his parents, quickly cutting their ropes.
> "Get up, we have to go!" he said desperately.
But as they began to move, one final shot rang out—a direct hit to Melin's chest.
> "Melin!" Felin screamed.
The boy collapsed in his arms, blood spilling from his mouth.
Felin threw himself over his son, trying to protect him, but it was too late. Another gunshot echoed through the warehouse, and Felin fell too, collapsing beside his wife, who was hit seconds later while trying to protect them both.
The three of them—Melin, Felin, and his wife—died together in silence.
Fedrick watched coldly.
> "Fools," he muttered.
Celin's Mistake
Outside, Celin—the youngest brother—had followed Melin secretly. When he heard the gunshots, he rushed in and saw the horror: his entire family, dead.
His body shook with rage and heartbreak. He spotted Melin's gun on the floor. Without thinking, he picked it up and turned toward Fedrick.
> "You monster! I'll kill you!" he yelled.
Just as Celin raised the gun—
Police sirens blared.
Dozens of officers stormed the building, shouting commands.
> "DROP YOUR WEAPON! HANDS IN THE AIR!"
But they were too late. All they saw was a teenager standing over three bodies, a gun in his hand, and Fedrick pretending to be the victim.
> "He killed them!" Fedrick cried. "He snapped! His own family—he just opened fire!"
Celin screamed in protest.
> "No! I didn't! He killed them! He—!"
But the officers tackled him to the ground, ripping the gun from his hands. He was beaten, cuffed, and dragged away.
In court, Celin's words didn't matter. The judge had only one story—Fedrick's. There was no camera footage, no witness brave enough to speak the truth, and the murder weapon was in Celin's hand.
> "Celin Felin," the judge announced, "for the murder of your parents and brother, and for unlawful possession of a weapon, you are hereby sentenced to 15 years in San-Jamb Maximum Security Prison."
Celin didn't cry.
He didn't speak.
He just stared ahead with dead eyes, while inside, a storm was building.
> "They took my family… and framed me for it," he thought.
"But I will survive. And I will finish what Melin started."
To be continued.....