The Distant Temple
The rain hits the windshield in sheets, blurring the world into a grey smear. You are Elias Thorne. You are thirty-two years old. You are broke. The engine of the Land Rover idles, a low rumble that vibrates through your bones, a constant reminder that you are still here, still breathing, still owing. The figure in the rearview mirror is not a reflection. It is Halloway. He sits in the...
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