FATHER-SON BOND
342 Words
The city blurred past as Adrian drove, the girl’s scent still lingering, but his thoughts already bracing for something colder.
Home.
Not the warm, sentimental kind — his father’s house was all marble and shadows, a place where the air felt heavy with unspoken wars.
He pulled into the driveway, the tall iron gates shutting behind him like prison bars. The mansion rose ahead, all sharp angles and glass, lit from within by a dim, golden glow that didn’t fool him for a second.
Inside, he found his father exactly where he expected — in the study, behind a desk cluttered with ledgers and a half-empty glass of scotch.
The man didn’t look up immediately. That was his way of reminding Adrian whose roof he was under.
“You’re late,” his father said finally, the words flat, stripped of any curiosity about why.
Adrian smirked faintly. “Didn’t know I was on a schedule.”
His father’s eyes lifted, dark and calculating. The resemblance between them was a curse — same jawline, same cold stare, but no warmth, no bridge between generations.
“You think running around the city at night makes you untouchable?” the older man asked, leaning back in his chair. “One day, you’re going to bring the wrong trouble to this house.”
“Maybe I already have,” Adrian replied, his tone almost lazy, but his gaze sharp. He wasn’t in the mood for his father’s lectures tonight. Not when he’d just tasted the kind of trouble that made him want to go looking for more.
The silence stretched.
They didn’t argue often — they just didn’t speak more than necessary.
Finally, Adrian turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. “Don’t wait up next time. I might not come back.”
His father didn’t answer, and that, more than anything, confirmed it — this house wasn’t a home. It was just the place Adrian kept his weapons, his money, and the man who had raised him into someone who trusted neither blood nor love.
- Writer
