The Distant Blade
The radio handset was warm in Elias Thorne’s palm, the plastic casing worn smooth by twelve years of gripping it during chases, arrests, and the long, silent hours of watching the wire. He sat in the cab of his unmarked sedan, the engine idling with a low, rhythmic thrum that vibrated through the steering wheel and into his bones, the only sound in the vast, dark expanse of the borderlands. It...
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