The Pale Shadows
Elias. The name hit the back of the lobby desk with a finality that stopped the air conditioning. Marcus Thorne stood by the elevator, his suit unbuttoned, his face a mask of polite impatience. He did not look at the security guard. He looked at you. You were thirty-four years old, a senior structural engineer, and you had just spent the last six hours arguing about load-bearing tolerances in...
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