The Golden Ritual
The bullet hits the shoulder of your tactical vest before you even see the muzzle flash, a heavy, dull thud that rattles the very bones of your chest, and the world tilts on a hinge that has never wobbled before in thirty years of service. You are on the floor of the living room, the Persian rug slick with the wet, copper taste of blood and the dust of plaster, and the air is thick with the...
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