The Golden Crossing
The glass shattered before the scream finished. It did not fall. It hovered, a thousand jagged diamonds suspended in the heavy, coal-thick air of the High Court. Dust motes danced through the beams of light, illuminating the debris that should have struck the floor. Inspector Thomas Whitmore did not flinch. He stood in the center of the chamber, his tie loosened, his face a mask of polite...
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