The Distant Wound
The rain had been falling for three days, a thin, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the city into a smear of wet concrete and rust. It was the kind of weather that made the air feel heavy, pressing against the eardrums, and it was in the center of this damp, suffocating silence that Elias Thorne sat in his office, staring at the hand that trembled on the desk. It was not his hand. "Put it...
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