The Golden Echoes
The rain has been falling for three days, a cold, persistent sheet that turns the gravel road into a slurry of mud and rot. You drive the black sedan up the winding path, the tires slipping on the slick leaves, the wipers beating a frantic rhythm against the glass. You are Elias Thorne, forty years old, a border patrol agent with fifteen years of service and a pension that feels more like a...
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