The Golden Master
Thorne, you look like a man who’s been dragged through a ditch and left there to cool, the voice came from the shadows of the porch, low and rough with the particular exhaustion of a man who has not slept in three days. Elias did not turn to face the speaker, nor did he acknowledge the rain that was falling in thick, cold sheets against the back of his neck, but he tightened his grip on the...
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