The Golden Mirror
The banquet hall of the St. Jude’s Correctional Facility for Juvenile Detention smelled of stale sweat and industrial pine cleaner, a scent that had long since replaced the faint, cloying aroma of the synthetic apple juice served at breakfast. Elias Thorne sat at the head of the long steel table, his uniform pressed with a rigidity that seemed to defy the humidity of the room. He was a man who...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews