The Distant Threshold
The debt totaled four thousand, two hundred pounds. Elias Thorne counted the coins in the tin box on the desk, the metal cold and damp against his fingertips, while the clock on the mantel ticked with a heavy, wooden rhythm that seemed to swallow the sound of his own breathing. He was forty-two, a man built for the straight line of a duty belt and the flat logic of a warrant, but here, in the...
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