The Quill and the Flame
The door splintered inward with a sound like a gun being fired. Elias Thornfield did not flinch. He stepped through the smoke already breathing through his dampened cuff, the heat pushing at his back like a living thing. Below him, on the third-floor landing, a woman sat coughing against the wall, a leather portfolio clutched to her chest like a child. Phoenix Fire Engine Brigade, private...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen