The Golden Master
The rusted Ford F-150 shudders under your weight as it climbs the scree of the high desert, the engine coughing like a man choking on blood, and you grip the wheel with hands that no longer obey the command you send them, a tremor that starts in the knuckles and radiates up the forearms, a physical betrayal that mirrors the slow, grinding decay of your authority. You are Elias Thorne, fifty-two...
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