The Distant Crown
The alarm screamed at 4:02 AM. It was a sound that did not care about sleep. It did not care about the cold tile under bare feet. It cut through the dark of the precinct like a jagged wire. Silas Vance was already moving. His knees clicked. He wore the click like a secret. Thirty years on the force. Thirty years of bad coffee and worse paperwork. Thirty years of bending a body that had never...
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