The Pale Protocol
Thorne, get your hands off the ledger and come to the office, now. The voice of the Duke’s secretary cut through the silence of the archive, sharp and final, forcing Elias Thorne to release the spine of the book he had been holding with a grip that had turned his knuckles white. He smoothed the front of his waistcoat, a gesture of pure habit that did nothing to steady the tremor in his fingers,...
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