The Golden Oath
The rain had not stopped in three days, a persistent, gray sheet that blurred the edges of the world against the high windows of the safe house. Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the room, his back pressed against the cold stone, and stared at the heavy wool coat draped over the back of the wooden chair. It was a garment of profound mediocrity, a charcoal gray thing with a collar that had long...
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