The Golden Suspect
The banquet hall of the Blackwood Estate was a cathedral of excess, its air thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and expensive perfume, a suffocating blanket that pressed against your lungs until breathing felt like a physical labor. You stood in the shadows of the marble pillars, your uniform crisp, your badge a cold iron weight against your chest, watching the elite of the city dance...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen