The Golden Oath
The gold dust fell from Barnaby’s gums like fine sand, catching the early morning light in the patrol car. Elias Thorne watched it settle on the dashboard, a shimmering powder that did not belong to the world of rusted trucks and border fences. He was forty years old, his back aching with the specific stiffness of a man who had spent two decades standing watch, and he needed this arrest. The...
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