The Pale Verdict
The mortar round did not explode so much as it arrived, a heavy, wet thud that seemed to displace the air itself, sending a shockwave through the concrete bones of the facility that vibrated up through the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots and settled, with the cold precision of a diagnostic tool, into the marrow of his shin. He stood in the center of the sterile white corridor of the Central...
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