The Pale Bonsai
The fluorescent lights in Director Vane’s office hummed with a frequency that made Elias’s teeth ache. He stood before the desk, his hands clenched at his sides, staring at the man who had built a career on the quiet erosion of due process. Vane did not look up from the paperwork in front of him, his eyes scanning the page with the detached precision of a machine. "Sergeant," Vane said, his...
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