The Distant Blade
The crystal chandelier above the conference table caught the light of the retirement gala, fracturing it into a thousand sharp, dancing shards that danced across the polished floor. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the room, his posture rigid, his hands clasped behind his back to hide the violent, rhythmic spasm tearing through his left palm. He was forty-two, a veteran of the border patrol...
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