The Faded Attic
Imelda Domínguez stood in the rain-slicked courtyard of the crumbling hacienda, her sword arm aching from the hunger that had hollowed her out over the last six months. She was thirty-two, a former duelist now reduced to guarding the estate’s debts, and the weight of the blade felt less like a weapon and more like a piece of her own skeleton. Three men stood across from her, their boots caked...
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