🌺 Episode 3 – The Black Site (Ke Kahua ʻEleʻele)
The night came down hard and fast over Oahu.
Five-0's convoy carved through the darkness, engines low, lights off. Inside the lead truck, Steve studied the satellite feed glowing across his tablet. The coordinates traced a ridge above Kailua a mansion hidden behind acres of forest and a private dock.
"Wo Fat's primary residence," Chin said over comms. "Owned through four shell companies. Security grid went live two hours ago."
Steve's jaw tightened. "He knows we're coming."
Danny adjusted his vest. "He always knows, Steven. That's his whole thing. But tonight, maybe we change the ending."
John checked his weapon in silence. His face looked carved from stone.
The Assault
The team spread out through the trees, the humid air heavy with the scent of ironwood and ocean salt. A crescent moon hung above, silvering the waves that lapped against the cliffs below.
Grover's voice crackled in their ears. "Perimeter's set. SWAT's in position. We move on your go."
Steve raised his hand. "Go."
Silencers coughed in the dark. Two guards dropped without a sound. The team advanced, boots crunching over gravel. Through a glass wall they could see the mansion's interior: modern, sterile, expensive. The kind of place built by someone who could buy anything except peace.
Steve led the breach. Glass shattered inward as the team poured through. Flashbangs lit the hallways in blinding white.
"Clear left!" Danny shouted, sweeping a corridor.
"Right side clear!" Chin called back.
John moved like a ghost, precise and lethal. A guard lunged at him; John dropped the man with a strike so fast Danny almost missed it.
They reached the central atrium marble floors, a koi pond, a staircase curling upward. And there, standing at the top of the stairs, was Wo Fat.
"Commander McGarrett," he said smoothly, voice calm as silk. "And friends."
Steve levelled his rifle. "It's over."
Wo Fat smiled. "You've been saying that for years."
He dropped a smoke grenade. The world went white.
Gunfire erupted. Bullets tore through the haze. Steve dove behind a pillar, returning fire. John's shots tracked movement on instinct two guards down, another crippled.
Through the smoke, a shadow moved toward a side exit. Danny spotted it first.
"Steve, he's cutting for the dock!"
They gave chase. Outside, the jungle blazed with muzzle flashes. Wo Fat sprinted toward a waiting speedboat, firing behind him. One bullet grazed Steve's shoulder; another shattered a floodlight.
Danny took a knee, lined up his sights. "Not this time, you bastard."
He squeezed the trigger. The round caught Wo Fat in the side, spinning him against the rail. The speedboat's engine roared to life, but he stumbled aboard, clutching his wound.
Steve sprinted to the edge of the dock, weapon raised, but the boat was already pulling away.
"Steve!" Danny yelled. "He's hit bad! You can track the blood trail!"
Steve lowered the rifle, chest heaving. "He's still breathing. Not for long."
Behind them, flames licked the edges of the mansion. John stood amid the smoke, scanning for more hostiles. None remained.
"He'll run," John said. "He'll hide. But he won't stop."
Steve turned to him. "Then neither do we."
The Aftermath
By dawn, HPD had sealed the area. The compound smoldered, evidence teams combing through ashes. Danny sat on the bumper of an ambulance, sleeve rolled up where shrapnel had grazed him. Steve walked over, wincing from his own shoulder wound.
Danny looked up. "Well, partner, he's still out there. But at least I finally got a piece of him."
Steve smirked faintly. "Remind me never to question your aim again."
Danny pointed a finger. "You're damn right."
John approached, eyes distant. "We need to get Tia somewhere safe. Danny's place is a crime scene."
Steve nodded. "They can stay at my house tonight."
Danny raised a brow. "Sleepover at Casa McGarrett. Yeah, that's normal. I'll bring pizza."
Steve actually laughed short, rough, but real.
Grace and Tia
Later that evening, the McGarrett house was quiet except for the sound of the ocean crashing against the rocks below.
Grace and Tia sat on the living-room floor, wrapped in blankets, a movie playing softly on the TV. Grace was halfway through explaining the plot when she noticed Tia wasn't really watching.
"You okay?" she asked.
Tia shrugged. "I guess. I keep thinking about the guy who tried to take me."
Grace hesitated, then said, "You know, when I was little, bad guys came after my dad once. I was scared too. But it got better."
"How?"
Grace smiled. "Because I realized I wasn't alone." She nudged Tia's shoulder. "You're not either."
Tia managed a small smile. "Thanks."
They went back to the movie. Within minutes, both had drifted off, the glow from the TV washing over their faces.
From the porch, Steve watched through the window. John stood beside him, arms crossed.
"She looks a little like Rosa when she sleeps," John said quietly.
Steve nodded. "She looks like hope."
John's eyes stayed on the girls. "You think he'll come again?"
Steve's voice hardened. "Yeah. But next time, we'll be waiting."
The surf crashed below them, steady and relentless the heartbeat of the island.
And out beyond the horizon, somewhere in the dark, Wo Fat bled and planned, whispering to himself through the pain:
"Next time, McGarrett. Next time."