The Pale Verdict
The name came from the judge, sharp and clipped, cutting through the dry air of the courtroom. Elias Thorne. Elias stood in the center of the room, his hands bound at his wrists with leather straps that bit into the skin. He was thirty-four years old, a sergeant in the county constabulary, and he wanted only to clear his name before the verdict was read. The opposing force was not the judge,...
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