The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-21 19:01:43 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It hammered against the roof of the safe house, a relentless drumming that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and into the bones of Thomas Bradshaw. He sat in the corner of the single room, a crate of ammunition at his feet, his hand resting on the grip of his sidearm. The room was small, windowless, and smelled of wet wool and stale coffee. It...

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