The Golden Scar
The air in the detention block of the Meridian State smelled of ozone and old copper, a sterile sharpness that Elias Thorne had grown to associate with the scent of erasure. He moved through the corridor with the heavy, deliberate steps of a man who had spent forty years listening to silence, his investigator’s badge clutched in a fist that trembled only slightly. His target was Julian, his...
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