The Faded Road
The ballroom of the St. Jude’s Rehabilitation Center was not designed for joy, but on the night of the annual gala, it had been coerced into a semblance of one. Crystal chandeliers, dusty and heavy, hung low over tables draped in white linen that had seen better decades. The air smelled of floor wax, stale perfume, and the metallic tang of old fear. Captain Elias Thorne stood near the heavy oak...
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