The Pale Exile
The alarm screamed at 0400. Not a tone. A shriek. I woke with my hands already moving, checking the lock, checking the light, checking the pulse of the machine beneath the floorboards. The facility was silent outside. Inside, my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I am Elias Thorne. I have served the Bureau for twenty years. I know the protocol. I know the codes. I know that...
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