The Golden Cellar
The paper was wet, the ink of the ledger entry bleeding into the grain of the cardboard like a bruise spreading under skin. Sergeant Elias Thorne held it against the damp brick of the alleyway, his thumb pressing the crease flat, while the rain hammered the cobblestones around his boots. He had found the scrap tucked into the collar of the man he had just beaten unconscious, a fragment of a...
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