The Wistful Witness
The pen snapped in Sergeant Elias Thorne’s fingers, the black ink spilling across the white paper of the disciplinary form in a jagged, ugly vein that looked less like a signature and more like a wound. He sat in the sterile white room of the federal disciplinary hearing, his hands trembling not from fear but from a primal, instinctual need to protect his wife, Mara, who was currently being...
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