The Pale Protocol
"You're late again, Lupita. The ledger doesn't wait for your feelings." The overseer, a man named Donato who smelled of damp wool and ink, did not look up from his desk. He was counting the day's output, his finger tracing a line of figures that seemed to bleed into the wood. Lupita Zamudio stood by the door, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her dress. She was twenty-four years old, and she...
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