The Golden Master
The fluorescent light in the interrogation room buzzed with a frequency that seemed to vibrate directly in Elias Thorne’s molars, a low, persistent hum that had been drilling into his skull for the forty-five minutes since they had dragged the boy in. Elias sat across the metal table, his hands resting flat on the cold steel, trembling with a rigor that he could not command to stop, and he...
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