The Pale Tower
"Did you think I would let you walk away from this, Samira?" The voice came from the speaker in the signal box, distorted by the static of the vacuum welder humming in the adjacent bay, a low, electric thrum that vibrated in the fillings of Samira Jaber’s teeth. She stood on the platform of the Levant Express, the air heavy with ozone and wet cypress, the kind of damp that clung to the skin...
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