The Distant Affair
The gate of Ironwood Station groaned under Elias Thorne’s hands, a rusted shriek that cut through the thick, wet ash hanging in the air, as he stepped past the threshold into the decommissioned structure with his service revolver drawn and the sealed letter from Major Vance clutched in his sweating left hand. He was thirty-four years old, a man whose career had been defined by the rigid...
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