The Pale Protocol
The ledger was open to the page where the ink had dried into a crack, and I could see the dust settling on the numbers before I even looked down, a small, rhythmic delay that I had long since learned to ignore. "You have until the first of November, Elias," Mr. Halloway said, his voice flat and dry as the paper beneath his fingertips. "Or the property reverts to the bank." I looked at the...
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