The Golden Scar
The letter lay flat on the dashboard, its corners curling slightly in the heat of the engine, the ink smudged where Elias Thorne’s thumb had pressed against the paper while he drove the last forty miles of unpaved road into Oakhaven. The State’s seal, a golden lion rampant, stared back at him from the header, a rigid, bureaucratic eye that saw only data points and threat levels, not the man who...
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