The Price of Order
The town of Blackwood, Georgia, was a place where the humidity felt like a wet blanket and the history felt like a slow-acting poison. It was a town of white picket fences that hid rotting foundations, and a church that preached forgiveness while practicing exclusion. Silas Thorne, the presiding judge of the county, was a man who believed that the only thing standing between Blackwood and total...
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