The Golden Maze
The iron gate of Thorne Hall groaned open with a shriek that seemed to tear the humid air of the Texas Panhandle, and Elias Thorne stood before it, his fingers locked so tightly around the brass handle that his knuckles had turned the color of old bone, the gold signet ring on his right hand pulsing with a wet, rhythmic heat that left a faint, coppery smear on his tactical vest. He was...
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