The Golden Master
The ledger was open on the desk, the ink still wet, and Vane didn’t look up when I spoke. “You want your freedom, Elias, but you’ve left the final page unsigned.” I stood there, my boots caked in the black mud of the timber line, and waited for him to look at me. He didn’t. He was too busy scratching his beard, a nervous habit that had grown into a permanent scuff of hair on his chin. Outside...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima