The Wistful Silence
The rain fell in sheets against the iron gate, drumming a rhythm that made Elias Thorne’s teeth ache. He stood in the yard of Blackwood Penitentiary, his uniform dark with moisture, staring at Warden Halloway who waited behind the glass of the administrative office. "Let him go, Warden," Thorne said, his voice hoarse from the cold. "I have the proof." Halloway did not look up from his desk. He...
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