The Golden Compass
The engine of the lead truck groans, a low, metallic complaint that vibrates through the soles of your boots. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four, and you have been a state trooper for twelve years, long enough to know the taste of diesel and the weight of a badge that costs more than it pays. The convoy stretches out behind you, three heavy haulers carrying the seized assets of the Kessler...
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