Nineteen years ago~

“Get over here, boy. Pick one.”

The office reeked of smoke and stale whiskey as if every old book on each regal shelf had taken those scents and infused them within their pages. The windows were covered with heavy drapes as the main source of light came from my father’s computer screen. He was putting on a show to the room full of men who worked the Sparrow outfit.

I didn’t like being around my father, much less the men who worked ...