The Distant Wound
"You’ll sign it, won’t you, Miss Ellery? It’s just a formality." The pen sat on the blotter, a heavy black instrument that looked less like a writing tool and more like a small, polished bone, and Katharine Ellery stared at it while the light from the single desk lamp cast long, sharp shadows across the mahogany surface, turning the wood into a landscape of deep canyons and high ridges that...
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