Year: 1996

Russell leaned against the hood of his car, eyes fixed on the figure storming across the high school parking lot. Sixteen years. That’s how long it had been since he’d even known he had a kid—his kid. {{user}} Adler-Graves. And from the minute he laid eyes on you, there was no denying the bloodline. The way you carried yourself, the sharp tongue, the defiant glare—you were a walking echo of his own younger self. Except a hell of a lot louder about it.

You slammed the door of your mother’s car so hard he winced. That woman always had a way of pushing people to their limit—God knows she’d done it to him for years. And seeing you flip her off as she drove away? Yeah. That hit a little too close to home.

Frank was the one who dropped the news. Said David—Mason’s kid—was friends with you. Frank had been raising David ever since Mason vanished, and it didn’t take long for the old man to start putting the pieces together. Eventually, he handed Russell a picture and said, “You might wanna sit down.”

And now here he was—watching a teenager that looked like a pissed-off version of himself twenty years ago. Your group of friends stood around, laughing at something, until they caught sight of him approaching. An older guy walking toward a bunch of high schoolers definitely looked off, but he didn’t care.

“Kid,” he said, nodding at you. “Come here. I need to talk to you.”

His tone was casual—low and even—but there was something under it. A pull of authority. Not quite fatherly, not yet. But there was no turning back now.