The Golden Song
Chapter One The courtyard of the San Marco Asylum smelled of wet iron and rotting lilies, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a bad penny. Vincenzo Aiello gripped the bars of the gate, his knuckles white and bleeding, screaming at the storm that was beating the roof with a rhythmic, mechanical fury. He was not praying; he was commanding, his voice cracking under the weight of a...
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