Episode 1- Bloodlines ( KokoʻOhana)
The sun bled over Oahu, soft gold spilling across the runway as the plane touched down.
John sat rigid in his seat, one hand resting on the duffel bag by his feet, the other on the small shoulder pressed against his side. Tia leaned into him, half-asleep, clutching the necklace that had once belonged to her aunt. Rosa's necklace. A silver chain dulled with age, polished again and again by fingers that refused to let go.
He hadn't slept since the Amazon. His mind gnawed on the same question, over and over: How do you tell a man the truth that will break him? How do you tell your brother-in-arms he has a daughter he never knew, and that the world already knows?
The answer was simple. You don't tell him. You show him.
The arrivals gate swarmed with families and flowers, laughter and hugs. To John it felt foreign, fragile; a world of smiles that could shatter with a single bullet. He scanned every angle of the crowd exits, choke points, faces that lingered too long. Instinct, drilled into bone.
Then he saw him.
Commander Steve McGarrett.
Broad shoulders. Steady eyes. A face carved by wars fought abroad and wars fought at home. For a heartbeat, John saw him younger, caked in mud, rifle at the ready, Rosa waiting back home with that crooked grin that could disarm anyone. Then the memory dissolved, and all that was left was Steve walking toward him.
"John," Steve said, his voice tight, half disbelief, half anger. "You son of a bitch. I thought you were dead."
"Not dead," John answered, his tone flat, his eyes steady. "Just hiding."
Steve's gaze flicked down. "Who's the girl?"
The grenade inside John's chest shifted, its pin trembling. He crouched beside Tia, brushing her hair back from her face. She looked at Steve with wide, uncertain eyes.
"This is Tia," John said quietly. "Rosa's niece."
He hesitated. The truth burned in his throat. Then he forced it out.
"She's your daughter, Steve."
The air went still. Even the crowd noise faded, replaced by the pounding of Steve's heart in his ears.
"That's not..." Steve's voice cracked, something it never did. "That's not possible."
"It's possible," John said. His tone left no room for denial. "Rosa never told you. Maybe she thought she was protecting you. Maybe protecting herself. Doesn't matter now. What matters is this, men came for her in the Amazon. Professionals. And they weren't after me. They were after her. Because of you."
Tia shrank behind John, clutching the necklace until her knuckles whitened.
Steve's jaw tightened. His eyes burned. "Wo Fat."
John nodded once. "Yeah. Your shadow. He knows about her, Steve. He'll use her to cut you wide open."
Steve took a step closer. His voice was low, dangerous. "And you waited until now to tell me?"
Before John could answer, the terminal glass shattered.
Gunfire ripped through the airport, civilians dropping and screaming as bullets shredded signs and benches. John tackled Tia to the ground, covering her with his body as shards rained down. Steve was already moving, pistol drawn in one smooth motion.
Two men in tactical gear pushed through the chaos, rifles raised. Their movements were clean, professional, military trained.
John rolled, drawing his sidearm and firing twice. One attacker fell, clutching his chest. The other kept advancing, bullets sparking off metal poles.
Steve took him down with a headshot, fluid, controlled. John followed up with three more rounds into the corpse's skull. The body twitched once, then stilled.
The silence that followed was jagged, filled with sobs, alarms, and the panicked shuffle of running feet.
Steve turned on John, fury in his eyes. "Did you need to put three in him?"
John holstered his gun without flinching. "I needed to make sure."
Behind them, Tia trembled, clinging to John's arm, her eyes wet with terror. He bent low, whispering, "It's over, little one. I've got you."
Steve looked at them both, the truth crashing over him like surf against the rocks. The war he thought he'd left behind had just followed him home and this time, it wore the face of a child.
John rose, his expression grim. "This is only the beginning. He'll send more. He won't stop."
Steve holstered his weapon, his eyes hard, his jaw set.
"Then we won't stop either," he said.
But somewhere, on the island, a shadow watched and waited.
"Bring her to me. If McGarrett wants to protect her, then let him bleed for her."
And so, the war began.