The Faded Sutra
The fluorescent lights in the corridor hummed a low, electric note that drilled into Elias Thorne’s temples. He stood before Major Halloway’s office door, his hand hovering over the handle, fingers trembling not from cold but from the rigid, terrifying certainty of his own body’s failure. Elias was forty-five, a border patrol agent for twenty years, and he wanted only one thing: to retire next...
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