The Distant Blade
The rain against the window of the fourth-floor office was a rhythmic, grey assault, a sound that seemed to dampen the very air in the room, turning the sterile silence into something heavy and wet. Elias sat across from Director Thorne, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, the knuckles white, as if holding them apart would cost him more than they were worth. He was forty-two, a man who had...
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