The Faded Dust
The air in the Grand Hall of the Ministry of Internal Security was not merely cold; it was sterile, a vacuum that sucked the warmth from the skin and the doubt from the mind. It was a place of polished obsidian floors and vaulted ceilings where light did so much as illuminate so much as audit. Detective Elias Thorne stood before the High Commissioner, a figure who seemed less like a man and...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld