I’m sitting in my trailer, counting pills and checking the clock. Seven years clean, seven years on parole, and I’ve kept my head down. Then the knock comes. It’s her—Lydia. My daughter. I haven’t seen her since she was twelve. Now she’s twenty, shaking, eyes wide with fear and meth. She doesn’t say ‘hi.’ Doesn’t hug me. Just says, ‘Dad, they’re going to kill me.’

I let her in. She smells like smoke and sweat. She tells me about Jonah—her boyfriend, a cartel-connected thug. She was there when they killed those people. She shot him. Now his gang wants her dead, and the cartel wants answers.

That night, bullets tear through my walls. Tires screech. I grab my rifle, return fire. Kirby, my sponsor, stands beside me, brave as hell. We hold them off, but I know—they’ll be back.

I look at Lydia, curled up on my couch, trembling. I can’t give her to the cops. They won’t protect her. So I make the only choice left.

We run.

Now we’re on a Harley, speeding down a desert highway, the sun bleeding into the horizon. My past is chasing us. My sins. My blood.

And I’ll kill every last one of them before they take her.