The Faded Portrait
Thorne, keep it steady, you’re drifting into the drain cover. The voice crackled through the radio, sharp and impatient, cutting through the hiss of the wipers that scraped the rain from the windshield in jagged, ineffective strokes. Elias Thorne tightened his grip on the steering wheel, the leather worn smooth and slick with sweat, and corrected the armored vehicle’s path, the tires groaning...
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